1 year back

A year ago, Scott came back from deployment #3 to Afghanistan, and deployment #4 out of 5 total over the last 8 years. I came across this quote ^ on Pinterest a few weeks ago and it is the truest group of words I've seen, as much quotes/words can relate to deployment. While deployments these days aren't always a year or more the way they once were, it's still a journey and at the beginning you always wonder HOW you will make it to the end. You know WHY, you know you will, you know the WHEN, but wondering HOW you will get there is daunting.

While I don't want to rehash all those months (he was gone for 9 months that time), the dates of departures and returns always stick in my mind. In fact, so much has happened since last November that I don't even want to think back that far. It was like I was another person. I think, honestly, with each year we've been in the military (because it IS a joint effort), I've transformed into someone new. I was different before Alaska, I was different after each deployment in Alaska, I was different after a year in Missouri, I was different after all three deployments that have occurred in Colorado...you get the idea. My point is: deployments are hard and life-changing, even if you think things pick right up where they left off.

This graphic up there is actually more poignant when you think about the beginning of a deployment versus the end of a deployment. However, you never know where you'll be a year later either. For example, for me and for us, the two biggest things were: Where would we be living and what fertility treatments would we pursue after that deployment was over? A year ago, I had no idea what the answers to those questions would be and it's pretty laughable and quite ironic to think about how we still don't have actual answers.
For all we knew, we could've PCSed to Ft. Bragg or Ft. Drum or Ft. something-or-other...we could've had a baby. We could've gone overseas or back to Alaska...we could've not done IVF. We could've gotten out of the army. We also had no idea he'd have to deploy back to Europe just a few months after this (linked above) deployment was over.

As the chips fell, we ended up taking an option for Scott to get another masters, but we still have these two houses we're back and forth between. We went for IVF and it didn't work. Nothing ever *quite* turns out the way you assume, right? Sometimes it's for the better and sometimes it's not. Regardless, you can never predict how things will go during a deployment and that time afterward can be just as odd and life-changing.

I'm sure there's more deployments in our future but, until then, I think I'll just remember how the past ones helped me grow as a person, and enjoy this non-deployable time for the next few years.

*For some 'fun' and slightly depressive reading, here's a bunch of my deployment posts.*

Revisiting "Through" (2016's Word)

Just talking about words of the year or commitment of any kind can be hard to follow through with.

Through. Get it? Because through was my word for 2016.

This choice was specific to deployment and....[pauses to go re-read post from last year]...it was unique to getting through an entire year of seasons on my own. I had some reflections on the "gift" of deployment that I posted in December, and now I'll share some ideas that I jotted down over the summer, which was the hardest part of this latest deployment for me. I mean, the last month always is the slowest and that was October/November, but summer was really difficult for me.

For me, through was about getting through one hassle and moving onto the next. I knew deployment would be that way. It always is. It was about getting through the seasons, the months, the weeks, the days, the hours. Through is HARD.

After almost two months of hunting, I killed a rattlesnake back in June. Initially, I assumed that if I could just kill this rattlesnake, life would be easier. A couple of weeks into carrying a shotgun around every day, I realized that this was, in fact, just one snake. Killing one rattlesnake was not going to solve my problem. There are thousands of rattlesnakes in southern Colorado and half of them probably live on or around my property. There will always be another one. There will always be something else. There will always another place for me to focus my worry and stress.

I had a revelation recently, as I waited outside the vet's office with Jett. They wouldn't let him inside the waiting room in case his cough was contagious.

This isn't brand new information, but it was comforting to realize as I was desperately waiting for things to even out: Life is just tackling one hurdle after another. That's all it can be because there will always be something else, waiting around the bend, to test you. If you're waiting for smooth sailing and perfection, it won't happen. There will never be a perfect time for anything. There will be perfect days, yes. There will not be a perfect timeline of events that make you feel like you have everything under absolute control. For example...

+ I took Jett to the vet. He started coughing and it went on for two days and was very odd. An appointment was made, $97 was spent, and we were back to giving a pill twice a day. It seems like one of these dogs is always on medication of some sort.

+The next day, I had to go to the doctor, but as I started the car, the low air pressure light came on: one of my tires was going flat.  So I went to the doctor, taking the long way, because there was no way I was taking the shorter route through the bad part of town with a problem tire. Then I went to Big O to have the tire repaired. Whilst there, they handed me a quote for new tires; I knew this was coming. I was told by Toyota a year ago that I needed new tires "soon". It's "soon". $612 later, I left Big O. When I lamented to Scott, he said, "Yes, things cost money", and I do realize that there are few better investments than good and safe tires. I knew if I put it off, it would loom over my to-do list and I was already sitting in the waiting room with a book, so another 30 minutes wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

+Then, I killed a baby rattlesnake.

+Then, on the Fourth of July, my phone stopped working. A problem with the SIM card, apparently? I took the card out and it didn't solve the problem. Since I tried everything I could find to do via Google, I went to the Apple Store in Briargate, which is like an hour away. They were very nice and all. They fixed it, but since it can be a reoccurring problem, I'm to take it back for diagnostic testing and a potential new phone if it happens again.

So anyway. 

I think I've been mismanaging my thoughts. I keep waiting for things to even out, and they'll never actually even out. While it's impossible to anticipate these things (aside from the tires), I (we) have to be ready and on guard, prepared to tackle whatever comes next. It can be exhausting during this season of deployment, but it's less stressful to be flexible than it is to freak out every other day about something. Because freaking out every other day is exhausting. While I'm not advocating pessimism, it's easy to go with the flow when you're not set on things being perfect.

Looking back on that, written in July, and re-reading the Through post from March, I still really like the word through. I like what it encouraged me to do. I like that it kept me going. I like that it still applies to my life because there's always, indeed, something to go through. There will always be a struggle of some sort because that is life as a human being. I don't want a tattoo, but if I had to pick one word to get as a tattoo, it'd be the word through.

And, just to show the symbolism of where through can get you, I swapped out my Robert Frost quote for a picture of the homecoming ceremony:

I need the visual, you know? It's a good reminder that we go through things for a reason. 

The Gift of Deployment

I know that title sounds funny, and I know that, generally, people feel bad for the spouses of deployed soldiers. And I fully admit that I've turned feeling sorry for myself into an art form during certain time periods from the last 7 years.

However, going through the redeployment process (the process of coming back from a deployment) is a special kind of gift. Deployment in itself is a life-changing process for both spouses and I've gotten a lot out out of it, whether I've wanted to or not.

People cock their head to the side and say Awww if I say that Scott is deployed. Fellow military spouses usually just nod and give a tight smile, because they know exactly everything that is running through my head. I generally don't tell people my story unless it really happens to come up. I've noticed that it comes up a lot less these days than it used to; I don't know if this is because I'm less inclined to go there or because people are more into talking about themselves and I'm more into listening (i.e. just letting them talk).

Anyway.

One of my very first army wife friends told me that deployment was a weird and strange gift. (I may or may not have talked about this before...I can't remember.) At the time, I was very young and assumed that God was playing games with me and trying to torture me. However, over the years, I've come to realize that what she was saying was more than true.

A homecoming ceremony is better than anything I can actually imagine. The giddiness and happiness and all-encompassing joy you feel to know your loved one is anticipated to be in that crowd of camouflage is like nothing else. It makes the months of deployment worth it. It's like a thousand Christmas mornings wrapped into one (and none of us will get to live a thousand Christmases, so that's what I imagine it to be like). I never reflect back on it as a big deal. I never remember that feeling until I'm in that last week or so of the throes of deployment and then I remember and it all comes rushing back. Every homecoming ceremony we've done (four now, and some more ceremonious than others) materializes in my mind and I remember.

And, in all honesty, I feel bad for people who never get to experience this. I've been taught appreciation and perseverance and independence in a tough way. I am so very grateful for this. Deployment is hard. It's all-consuming in so many ways. But it has literally shaped me into the person I am. It's taught me patience and trust and reliance on God. It's made me wish time away and lament my luck and complain. It's made me cry happy and sad tears at once. It's made me fearful and anxious. It's made me realize how life can be chunked into befores and afters. It's made me appreciate my spouse in a way that we don't always remember to do. Even the messy house, the incredibly messy house, that I'm left with when he does get home...I appreciate that.

It must be said that not all families get to experience a happy homecoming and, trust me when I say, military families' hearts break when they hear of tragedy. It becomes nearly impossible not to dwell on the idea of something bad happening almost all of the time. Compartmentalizing is key. This is where patience, trust, and reliance comes in; to not be fearful in the waiting, to trust that you will come through this one way or another, and to rely on God because you, dear military spouse, are definitely not in control. It took me a long time to give up my "control". I never really had any, of course. I just tried to control through my worry and fretting and that was not a productive way to live. Because the other part of deployment is that you have to go on living while they're gone; which is why this blog is so important to me. It's a record of my independent life that I've fought really hard for during these times of worry and stress.

I have tips for living the military spouse life and many thoughts on the subject. I do not consider myself an expert but I have experience and sometimes, in the military world, that's enough to qualify as someone who appears to know what they're doing.

Let's recap.

After being up very late on Tuesday night, I started to lose track of the days.

Sorting through 9 months of mail

Wednesday, Scott unpacked his bags and we went for lunch and ran some errands. 

It was 80 degrees so I wore shorts. 

Thursday, we went for breakfast and stopped at Lowe's for the second time in 24 hours. 

I had this breakfast quinoa at Over Easy and it was amazing.

 I've made this before but think I need to try again. 

Then I had an appointment on base because I managed to sprain my fingers a few weeks ago. It wasn't one big thing that did it; I jammed my hand on something and then just lots of little things added to it: picking up, lifting things, dragging things...

Scott is threatening to give me a manicure.

By Wednesday, my right hand was extremely swollen; twice the size of my left. I couldn't write or type.

So I got a splint and a regimen of Motrin and heating/icing regularly. It's getting better now that I've started taking care of it and stopped ignoring it (never a proven tactic).

This was just the beginning.

Then, Thursday night, it snowed a few inches which was welcome (who am I...) and I went back to work on Friday. 

The happiest dog in all the land.

I spent the weekend watching Hallmark Christmas movies and pulling out decorations. 

Hallelujah to no school. 

Hallelujah.

262 days

Finally!

It kind of kills me that he was on a plane for 36 hours and he looks more awake than I do. 

This welcome home ceremony was at 2:00am Wednesday morning.

262 days is a long time. 

This deployment was no joke for either of us.  

But, as it always somehow does (despite the crawl-along pace), 

the welcome home ceremony arrived and deployment #4 is OVER. 

(Deeper thoughts to follow.)