milspouse – Messy Kitchen Ministry

The End of the Watch: Military Retirement

Featuredby messykitchenministry1 Comment

[Chapter One]

At the age of 17, I congratulated my boyfriend on his acceptance to the United States Naval Academy. “When do you leave?” I asked. And the clock began to tick, a figurative wristwatch attaching itself to me.

Years later, our wedded bliss begins with the cadence of time…

How many months until you report to flight school?

How many months before you get your aviator wings?

How long will we live here?

We constantly look at the calendar, the time, the projection of years.

When do you leave for deployment?

How long will you be gone?

When do you go on the next detachment?

When will your new orders come out?

But it doesn’t seem strange, this ever-present, incessant ticking, it’s just our life. In our military community, conversations often begin with “How long have you been stationed here? When will you move again?” Our lives model a revolving door, watching the hands of time go around and around as our spouses take turns leaving, deploying, “standing the watch”. And we spouses stand the watch, too, proudly waiting for them to come home.

As the years go by, the questions start to change…

How many more years does he owe?

Is this his last tour?

When can he retire?

And then I feel the lurch of the clock, the hiccup in the wheel of time. Thirty years have passed since that teenager asked the first question and the time begins to slow down. I still hear the ticking, but the scenes play in slow motion as our brains race to capture every moment and every event before the sand runs out.

Statements burst forth, paperwork starts to be processed and “How many days until retirement?” becomes the last marker of Navy time. Invitations fly through the mail, family and friends returning with them like boomerangs. One final time, my husband dons his flight gear and soars into the clouds, taxiing through a rainbow of water upon his return to earth. Champagne is poured and the ceremony planned.

The calendar flips and the day of his retirement dawns. Speeches resound, flags are lovingly handled, a friend harnesses his deep voice and bellows throughout the hangar:

“For twenty-six years

This sailor has stood the watch

While some of us were in our bunks at night

This sailor stood the watch

While some of us were in school learning our trade

This shipmate stood the watch

Yes.. even before some of us were born into this world

This shipmate stood the watch

In those years when the storm clouds of war were seen brewing on the horizon of history

This shipmate stood the watch

Many times he would cast an eye ashore and see his family standing there

Needing his guidance and help

Needing that hand to hold during those hard times

But he still stood the watch

He stood the watch for twenty-six years

He stood the watch so that we, our families and our fellow countrymen could sleep soundly in safety,

Each and every night

Knowing that a sailor stood the watch

Today we are here to say
‘Shipmate… the watch stands relieved’

Relieved by those You have trained, Guided, and Led

Shipmate, you stand relieved.. we have the watch.”

I look at my husband on stage standing proudly in his uniform, my forehead straining against the emotion inside me. Where did the time go?? Memories flood my mind.

But then I am walking towards the stage, taking his arm, listening for the bells and “departing the ship” for the last time. The jets roar overhead as the end of the red carpet draws near, the final steps of our Navy journey. We stop at the finish line and cross over it together as his watch stands relieved. And so does mine.

Our family huddles in the corner, a core memory made. But then we pull away, the world shifts and my body registers a change. I feel my wristband loosen and hear my own watch clamoring to the floor, the time frozen in place. My brain searches for the rhythm that has always drummed in the background of my thoughts, but it’s no longer there. The ticking has stopped.

And for the first time in my adult life…all I hear is a beautiful silence.

[Cue Chapter Two]

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Military

A Carrier Deployment is… so many things.

Featuredby messykitchenministry4 Comments

It’s spending six months counting down to Departure-Day.

It’s saying hello and goodbye over and over and “Please don’t send me photos of your steak dinner in Fallon.”

It’s the pit in your stomach as the green sea bags appear in your bedroom and the packing begins and “Why do they still smell like jet fuel??”

It’s the last-minute paperwork, house chores, oil changes and hard conversations.

It’s the Last Supper and “Anything you want to eat before you go?”

It’s going to bed that night with your head spinning, the inevitable happening tomorrow and wondering how on earth you will handle it.

It’s the next morning, the stomach hurting, the knees starting to shake as you drive to the base.

It’s pulling into the hangar parking lot and thinking “Holy crap, this is actually happening!!”

It’s a final hug, the tears coming, the heartbreak of watching the kids say goodbye.

It’s him walking into the hangar and you driving away, a silent prayer for safety on your lips.

It’s questioning all your life choices and “Why on earth are we still doing this???”

The next day…it’s the new normal as your family marches onward.

It’s doing a countdown paper chain but then taking it down because “This is waaaaay too long” and unhealthy for your mental state.

It’s having the hard conversations with your kids, trying to squelch their anxiety about Dad being gone, assuring them of his safety.

It’s also announcing “There’s a new sheriff in town so listen up…”

It’s the passing of weeks and months and new-found independence.

It’s learning how to use a lawn mower, cleaning out the rain gutters and “Let me quickly check the tire pressure.”

It’s paying all the bills, scheduling all the repairs and unclogging a sink.

It’s buying frivolous things on Amazon because mail is fun and you need endorphins.

It’s clean towels pushed over to his side of the bed and sleeping multiple nights next to your Laundry Husband.

It’s watching whatever you want on the television because the remote heeds only to your will and “So what if I want to watch Twilight??”

It’s the occasional phone call from the ship and broken phone conversations of “What-uh-ih-on-ei?”

It’s sitting alone in church.

It’s an entire soccer season with just you on the sidelines.

It’s hard days solo-parenting, wondering how you can possibly give your kids all the care they need.

It’s balancing Fun-Mom with I’m-The-Only-One-Around-To-Discipline-You Mom

It’s Mary Poppins in the morning and Miss Hannigan at night.

It’s precious nights of snuggling on the couch, reading at bedtime and watching Disney movies.

It’s “What do you want for dinner- scrambled eggs or meatballs?”

It’s tears in your eyes as you proudly watch your resilient kids doing a HARD THING.

It’s Spring and Summer passing without him here.

It’s missing his presence and his joy and all the traits that made you want to be with him in the first place.

It’s watching the front lawn slowly die but “I’m trying to keep children alive so someone else can fix that later.”

It’s seeking out time with other military spouses because “You guys are the only ones who get this!!”

It’s hearing the national anthem and feeling more patriotic than usual.

It’s flipping the calendar and saying “Kids!! He’s home NEXT month!!”

It’s the Navy saying “Just kidding! We changed schedules! Add thirty more days!”

It’s asking and checking and finally putting up the paper chain for the final weeks.

It’s only two more weeks of putting out the trash bins.

It’s “Hurry, kids, take out your junk from Dad’s car before he gets home!!”

It’s buying new makeup because you feel a little nervous.

It’s shopping for groceries and re-buying the foods that he enjoys.

It’s putting flags in the front yard, hanging up a welcome sign and shouting to the world that “WE HAVE DONE SOMETHING BIG HERE!!”

It’s waking up that morning with a burst of adrenaline.

It’s driving to the base and thinking “It’s happening!!!”

It’s standing around the hangar, listening for timely updates, knowing you have only minutes left before the deployment is done.

It’s watching all the families around you, honored to be in the company of such strong people.

It’s someone announcing “10 minutes out!!” and everyone hurrying outside to intently watch the horizon.

It’s someone shouting “They are coming! They are coming! Do you see them??”

It’s a slow-moving flock of jets, silently growing closer and closer.

It’s the families jumping and cheering as the formation flies overhead and the deafening sound hits your ears.

It’s tears in your eyes and relief in your shoulders, thinking “WE. DID. IT.”

It’s waiting around while the jets circle and land, one by one.

It’s the little kids saying “Why does this part take sooooo long??”

It’s the canopies opening and all the men and women climbing down from the jets and taking off their gear.

It’s the families waiting with anticipation, excitement crackling in the air.

It’s the line of flight suits forming at the end of the tarmac, the palpable tension in the crowd as we are told to hold the line.

It’s them walking closer and closer and someone finally shouting “Run!!” and every kid racing like their lives depend on it, into the arms of their moms and dads.

It’s hugging him and thinking “He’s here. He’s real. We are all together. Thank you, Jesus.”

It’s feeling like the world is suddenly righted and everything is going to be okay.

It’s shoulders down and then shoulders back and the hint of pride that says “I handled that LIKE A BOSS.”

It’s knowing that our nation called and we answered and gave it everything we had… and now it’s time to go home. ❤️

…

[“Are you safe to drive? It’s been months since you were in a car…are you sure I shouldn’t drive home? Move over…”]

Military

Riding the Train of Resentment: a decision for military spouses

Featuredby messykitchenministryLeave a Comment

To the Resentful Navy Spouse-

I see you online, commenting to other spouses about your gripes with Big Navy. I sense the acidic tone in your voice as you lament the pain of moving again and “putting [your spouse’s] career first”. I cringe at your words and feel a bit heartbroken for your state because I remember feeling that way, too. It’s hard.

When I first married the Navy, oops, I mean my husband, we moved three times in those two years, effectively shredding my resume before the ink had a chance to dry. It hurt. Add in a junior naval aviator who mentioned to me at a dinner party that I shouldn’t complain about my career “because jet pilots spend their entire lives dreaming of their jobs and graphic designers do not” and I almost went to prison for first degree murder.

Years later, I remember being a young mother with baby vomit pooled in the center of my bra looking at photos of my deployed husband’s port call in the tropics. Or when I saw a photo of his steak dinner in Key West while I was eating my toddler’s cold, leftover macaroni and cheese from a plastic Little Mermaid plate. “Must be nice to be on vacation…” I grumbled as I changed another diaper. Bitterness found me ready and willing to jump aboard.

As many spouses of junior officers do, I rode that steam engine for a number of years until we decided together to stay in the Navy past my husband’s original commitment. We knew that we both had more to give our country so I disembarked from the Train of Resentment and proceeded on a new route with a new attitude. Travel photos ceased, my husband’s sea-pay was reclassified as “Babysitter Money” and prestigious Navy jobs were declined so our family could remain planted in the same soil for a while. Gratefulness found its way into my heart.

And I hope it can find its way to your heart, too.

Hear me out on this. I know that this Navy life is hard and sometimes you just need to call up a good friend and commiserate for a little while. I frequently do this, even after twenty-five years. But if you are bogged down in daily resentment or bitterness, can I offer you some advice?

This military journey works much better if you consider yourself part of a team, rather than being a bystander blindly following the whims of your spouse’s career. Because the Navy is so all-encompassing, you need to find a way to make it your own, too. Find your silver lining, your own purpose in it. How can you set goals as a couple to make this work for BOTH of you?
Talk to your spouse and state explicitly what is gnawing at your peace. Is it the separation? The overwhelming task of single parenting? The shredding of your resume and lack of career advancements? The stupidly gorgeous photos blowing up your phone? Write it, share it, talk about it, over and over.
If those conversations leave you at an impasse and you can’t see eye to eye, I highly recommend Militaryonesource.com for free personal and/or marital counseling. It’s one simple phone call. This is your marriage here; do not wait to seek professional help.
MEANWHILE… I’ve said it before and I will say it again—–> do not blame your spouse when he/she is gone. YES, the schedule will make you insane but it isn’t your spouse’s fault. People in much higher pay grades control the movement of ships & aircrew and world events can alter the plan in a single day. Remember that this is the Navy, sailors deploy, and no amount of complaining or blaming will ever change that mission. (See A Letter to my Younger Self when my husband left for the ship when I had a toddler and the stomach flu. Fun times.)
Try, try, try to feel empathy for your spouse, rather than resentment. Can you put yourself in your spouse’s shoes and think about those stressful schedules and heartbreaking goodbyes? How would you react if you had to leave your children for six months? If you were locked in a giant metal container for months on end, with all your clothes and linens smelling of jet fuel, wouldn’t you enthusiastically jump at the chance for a gulp of fresh air on the beach? Give them some grace. If they decide to enjoy a pina colada on the beach, LET THEM. (Then go to Target and buy a pina colada mix for yourself.)
If the bitterness persists and peace cannot be found… I’m going to say it…perhaps your time in the military is done. Twenty years of service is not for everyone and not required. It works wonderfully for some families but not well for others, so don’t force it. Serving five years, eight years, ten years is a noble act and our country is grateful, but it’s okay to choose a less intense environment and ride off into the Maverick sunset. The Navy is temporary but your marriage should be for the rest of your life.

I truly believe that military service can offer your family the experience of a lifetime if your heart is open and your communication is strong. It can be a wonderfully rich journey if you choose an attitude of gratefulness…but only you can decide to do it.

Wherever you land, know that you are SEEN and you are HEARD by so many of us out here. We get it. We understand the struggle. And we love pina coladas, too, so don’t be afraid to reach out when you need a listening ear,

……………………………………………………………………………..

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Original photo by @felipepelaquim on Unsplash

Military

Glittering Kindness: the way of the military spouse

Featuredby messykitchenministry2 Comments

There is something about the military moving process that makes me want to take a blow torch to all of my personal possessions. When two hundred boxes are casually dumped onto the ground like hotcakes I am tempted to recreate Burning Man and provide free fire and heat to our new neighbors. The entire process is massively overwhelming, especially when you are eight months pregnant, your husband is working and your other kid is lost somewhere in your hoarder’s den from Hades.

It was at this precise moment of panic that my doorbell rang and my husband’s new boss’s wife greeted me on my front porch. Knowing the stress that accompanies a military move, she stopped by to say hello and give me a coffee cake! Say what?? GOD. BLESS. HER. I needed her smile and my baby needed that shot of sugar. (Thank you K.M!)

Weeks later she invited me to a Navy spouse group upon which the women surprised me with a baby shower. Women who had NEVER met me gave me a baby shower!! The gesture literally left me speechless and still makes me teary as I write this now. It was pure kindness on the part of these military spouses, going to the store and buying this “Kim” person some diapers for her baby. (Thank you, Argos!)

And yet, those were not the only times I benefited from the kindness of milspouses.

They came to my house at 3:00am to watch my kids when I went into labor and needed to rush to the hospital. (Thank you L.D!)

They raised money to support deployment activities and then turned around and donated it to cancer research in honor of my family member who had recently died. (Thank you, Tophatters!)

Right after moving to Europe, they knew me for a solid five minutes before inviting me to spend three hours at their house washing laundry. (Thank you, D.M!)

They heard my sad words about moving to a new town and not knowing any kids to invite to my daughter’s birthday party… so they grabbed their own kids and a handful of presents and came over to celebrate with us. (Thank you C.J!)

And when my husband was deployed last year, they accompanied me to the Emergency Room and claimed to be my “next of kin” so they could overrule the COVID policy and stay in the waiting room with me. (Thank you T.S!)

Like family, they have brought me home-cooked meals, jump-started my car, babysat my children, shared their homes, sent me encouraging texts, loaned me cars, left secret gifts on my doorsteps and offered sage advice to young Kim who was new to the Navy life.

In short, these women all showed up and sprinkled kindness on me like glitter. And ya’ll know the lingering effects of glitter… once it’s on you, it never comes off. Even years later, I still see the remnants sparkling in my life.

As time progressed and my husband promoted to new positions, I saw more opportunities for me to care for the spouses around me. “Pass the glitter!” I thought, and made the phone call to the spouse who was having a terrible day; I took the banana bread to the one who was moving houses; I texted, encouraged, gathered, and babysat because so many spouses had done the same for me. It wasn’t a hardship, it just felt right. Like a giant water pitcher, I found that the more kindness that poured into me, the more it overflowed. (And lest you think I am bragging about my exemplary moral character or fishing for compliments, know that I can easily name twenty other women who have done the exact same thing. And they are all probably nicer than me, too, hahahaha.)

Because military spouses have treated me like family (see above!), I think differently about some topics circulating around the water cooler these days. “Why are spouses ‘pressured’ to fill FRG boards and Ombudsman positions when they are busy with their private careers and families?” “Why are spouses not compensated for holding leadership positions amongst Navy families?” It seems that “unpaid labor” is the new, political key-word…but I think the discussion is short-sighted.

The conversation itself is valid. Spouses’ careers are much different than twenty or thirty years ago, therefore social dynamics and pressures ought to shift, too. However…the military community is not unique in asking for volunteers. All of our communities rely on a certain amount of “unpaid labor” to keep the wheels turning- public schools, parent teacher clubs, youth sports leagues, girl scouts, band boosters, church nurseries and local charities. We are all working together for the good of our families and communities, inside and outside of the military, aren’t we? Must we always be compensated for our time?

When I have the chance to talk to Navy spouses in leadership classes, I always say “Caring for military families is NOT a requirement in any way, shape or form. It is simply an opportunity.” There is no prescribed formula and no amount of hours specified. There should be no pressure to return to 1950. In my mind, it boils down to the simple spirit of kindness, the gratefulness in giving back, and the propensity of paying it forward. It’s the sprinkling of glitter… so why not cover people in it? Recipients will sparkle for years and you will know that you added something beautiful to the world… or at least made a deployment a little less painful for another person.

With this idea in mind, I think we are asking the wrong questions. (Do I need to quote John F. Kennedy here or can you recite it in your head?)

What if this is an opportunity to turn around and lift up other spouses behind us?

What if this is a time when we can model resilience to the twenty two year-old spouse who has never before lived alone?

What if this is a chance to offer kind words to someone struggling through the difficulties of moving, deploying or changing jobs?

THESE ARE OPPORTUNITIES. We can take them or leave them, no one will be arrested by the police if he/she goes his/her own way and devotes time to other people and communities. (And we NEED people devoted to all corners of society.) But if military spouses have sprinkled you with care, if they have filled a void somewhere that should have been filled by your family who lived one thousand miles away… maybe it’s time to shower someone else with glittering kindness. Maybe it’s time to send a quick text that says “I know. I’ve been there. And it’s difficult.” Maybe it’s time to bring them a smile and a coffee cake to let them know they are not alone! Because on that particular day, it might make all the difference.

….

I would love to hear which acts of kindness and #milspouseglitter are still sparkling in your life! Please share!

Original Photo by Mink Mingle on Unsplash

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Military

USS Deployment and my lessons learned

Featuredby messykitchenministry4 Comments

We knew the deployment was coming. We hauled our boat, USS Deployment, from the back of the garage where it had rested for a few years. Day after day we prepared, traded and packaged our responsibilities so we could be properly organized for the hour of departure.

“Do you remember how to row?” my husband asked, lowering the skiff into the ocean. “I know it’s been a while.”

“Of course!” I replied. “I’ve done this six times already; I know the route. Besides, the kids are more self-sufficient than last time so I expect the ride to be much easier.”

One by one, my husband transferred his responsibilities to me, all neatly labeled in boxes- CO- PARENTING, HOUSE MAINTENANCE, DOG TRAINING, FINANCES, LEADERSHIP. Panic rose within me as I watched the boat sink lower with the weight, my mind frantically confronting the reality of this situation. No good worrying now, I thought. Reality is here and there’s no turning back!

After an endless array of last-minute business transfers and a series of emotional farewells, I finally loaded the kids into the boat, positioned the oars and pushed off from the shoreline. Aiming the bow towards the direction of the finish line, my mind snapped to attention- I think I can, I think I can, I am woman hear me roar!! With a confident air, I glided through the water with my kids, each pull of the oars taking us further away from the beach. We cried a little, laughed a little, and felt hopeful that time would pass quickly. This will be a great experience for us, I thought. No problemo.

But sooner than I expected, my arms began to ache, my body felt stiff and the plain truth revealed itself: I had clearly lost some muscle strength in the years since our last deployment. Having relied on my husband to do half the rowing since then, I found that suddenly pulling the full load was more difficult than I expected. About one thousand pounds more difficult than I expected. The kids were older and no longer trying to drown themselves every minute, but they were bigger and heavier than last time. Their backpacks were filled with different activities and stresses- sports, screens, drivers ed, geometry. I felt their added weight as I continued to flex my weak muscles.

As more time passed, I started losing speed and felt frustrated by my inability to man the rowboat efficiently. While I had distanced myself from the shore, our final destination didn’t seem any closer. How on Earth am I going to do this? Why is this so much harder than I thought? I recalled all the bumper stickers and Facebook memes with “Deployment Strong” in bold letters, all the times I told spouses “Refuse to Sink”, and yet here I was, feeling weak and undeniably sinkable. What was I doing wrong??

Glancing towards the sky in frustration, I noticed a little bird flying closer and closer, eventually landing on my shoulder. “You know,” it said, “your neighbor cooked a leg of lamb with mint sauce last week while you couldn’t muster enough energy for spaghetti.” Scowling at the bird, I yelled “GO AWAY!” but the squawking continued. “And your other neighbor is somehow managing to row her boat, work forty-hours per week and oversee the construction of a new orphanage in Uganda. So why are YOU so exhausted?” My shoulders visually slumped as my emotions got the best of me. Clearly, I was failing at this task. (Or was I? Why was I comparing myself to other people? And why did I feel so much pressure to effortlessly glide through this deployment without feeling any of the waves? Was that a realistic goal?)

At that point I noticed our boat sinking so low in the ocean that water was pooling in the bottom. Emotions aside, I knew that if we didn’t start unloading some of the weight, we would all go under. “Jesus take the oars” I whispered and decidedly muted the negative bird and made some solid, practical decisions. The key to our survival (and success) was throwing extraneous boxes overboard in order to stabilize our life. Goodbye PERFECT HOUSEKEEPING, goodbye HOUR-LONG HOME-COOKED MEALS (or leg of lamb), goodbye VOLUNTEER OF THE YEAR, WORKING OVERTIME and NEW KID ACTIVITIES WHICH REQUIRE MORE DRIVING. Farewell DOG TRAINING and can we please throw the canine overboard altogether?? (There was mutiny after that suggestion.) With or without the dog, drastic times called for drastic measures and I felt the difference almost immediately.

With expectations lower and our boat steadying over the waves, we finally sailed into our daily routines. Some weeks, the sun shone brightly, we put our best feet forward, stopped in new harbors and made new memories together, despite Dad’s absence. Other weeks, storm clouds came about, emotions ran high, we ate unreasonable amounts of frozen meatballs and spent too much time on screens. Yet, we survived. Despite the weather, my muscles grew accustomed to the pull and the boat glided forward. So many lessons learned in those first few months…

The kids continually grew in height and in spirit and learned that they were capable of doing difficult things. Emotions could be strong and missing Dad could be overwhelming, but life required them to take a deep breath, get out of bed every day and conquer their responsibilities. (And in a world of over-coddled children, this wasn’t a bad challenge.) They shifted many of their boxes onto their own laps and maturely flexed their own rowing muscles when needed.

My lessons came in droves. My well of perseverance was far deeper than I realized; every time I thought my arms couldn’t row another stroke, I did. When I sailed into an emotional whirlpool and couldn’t get out, I admitted my struggle to friends and then sought a professional counselor to help me stop spinning. Most importantly, I learned that sometimes my expectations are unrealistic and the goals I set for myself must be altered. That is not a failure on my part, but a simple change in navigation.

So with this insight, in sun and in shadow, our weeks and months passed. We took care of each day as it came, forgetting the calendar and wrapping ourselves in the busy-ness of life. Then one morning we groggily scanned the horizon and noticed a blurred shape forming in the distant mist. Wait, is that the shoreline?? Could this be possible?? Then, around us we noticed other skiffs gliding in the same direction- a regatta of families and friends heading towards the same finish line. I heard the sound of newborn babies, waiting to meet their deployed fathers. I saw professional men and women, anticipating their spouses’ return, glowing with confidence from all they had accomplished at work and at home. Parents stood in the bows of their boats, enormous pride on their faces as they awaited the return of their sons and daughters. A new energy crackled through the air as we made eye contact because WE ALL KNEW.

Heads looked up in unison as the sky exploded into a million sounds and aircraft shot towards the heavens, free from the bounds of the carrier and off to the airfields to find solid ground and loving families. Rays of sunlight reflected off the majestic ship lurking in the distance, small white figures lining the deck of the vessel.

My kids looked over at me with joyful tears in their eyes and adrenaline shot through my muscles as I accelerated my speed. Over and over and over I pulled on those oars, inching closer and closer to the sand. Every hard day, every exhausted night, every decision, every virus, every lonely moment in the middle of the ocean propelled us forward towards that final destination that lingered within reach. WE COULD SEE THE END.

My kids jumped up, waving their arms yelling “Daddyyyyyyyyyy!!!!” and my tears came swiftly. My sweet, brave kids had done it. They had battled stress and anxiety and uncertainty to make it here. And so had I. God helped us, WE DID IT.

Our USS Deployment hit the sand, lurching us momentarily forward. We scrambled out, dumped the oars on the shoreline and shaded our eyes from the blaring sun. And then we saw him, back on land and walking towards us, the walk that we would have recognized anywhere. No one had to tell us what to do next——– > WE RAN. ❤️

EPILOGUE

Our boat rests for now, hidden in the back of our garage, out of sight but not out of mind, for another deployment looms ahead, a milestone waiting in life’s queue. Whatever comes our way, we know there will be ups and downs and rights and lefts. Some gains and some losses. We know for certain that our next journey will not be perfect… but does it need to be? Nope. LESSON LEARNED.

To my fellow milspouses: do not be afraid to ask for help. Call Military OneSource at 800-342-9647 or visit them online at www.militaryonesource.mil. And no matter what…just keep rowing, one stroke at a time.

Original photo by Daniel Ian, Unsplash

Military

Respecting Military Families on Social Media

Featuredby messykitchenministryLeave a Comment

TO MY NON-MILITARY FRIENDS:

Do you know what a CACO is? [Kay-co] My guess is no. It stands for Casualty Assistance Calls Officer. You know them from films as the impeccably dressed men in uniforms who arrive on the doorsteps of WWII widows to announce the news of the deceased (think “Saving Private Ryan”). We, in the military community, know them as every day service members, sometimes our good friends, always the people who walk beside families during an injury or grieving process (for months or years) as paperwork is processed and affairs are put in order.

Every unit in the Navy has someone trained as a CACO, should a service member be seriously injured or killed during his/her service. We military spouses understand the role of this person and hope we never interact intimately with him/her, but if we linger long enough, we hear of it happening. We hear of the CACOs visiting and informing every person designated by the service member in the official paperwork. And our entire community grieves.

Years ago, upon an injury or death, the CACO would receive the official list, coordinate with CACOs in other cities and states (if necessary) and attempt to notify the next of kin in-person as soon as possible. But they wouldn’t come between the hours of midnight and 4:00am. Now, in 2022, it’s a minute-by-minute race against the internet, television and social media. It’s a race against smart phones and photos and tweets that can be sent across the world in five minutes or less. And in a world of sensational news stories, military mishaps are just that.

People race to share articles and details- SHOCK THE WORLD, BE THE FIRST TO ANNOUNCE THE NEWS, or maybe even just express patriotism and gratitude for those who sacrifice it all- but have they thought about who might see it? Aren’t we all connected by six degrees? Think of the spouse who is innocently scrolling through Facebook and sees someone share a news story about a military accident or possible death. What if their spouse is in that area or deployed on that ship? SHEER PANIC. What about the mother/father/brother/aunt/best friend or cousin who stumbles upon the news while posting their Wordle score on Facebook? TERROR.

As military spouses we know that when we hear of anything in this category, we aren’t supposed to call anyone or become private investigators. We know that our job is to stay quiet, sometimes stay home and simply wait, because we understand the role of the CACO and we know that the official processes have begun and we are not to interfere, or worse, cause emotional harm to someone who hears through inappropriate channels. We know the Navy will release the names twenty-four hours after the next of kin are notified and we are not to interrupt the flow of information.

Believe me, waiting is easier said than done. I sat in my house once, weeping alone by my front window when my neighbor’s aviation squadron had a death and the name hadn’t yet been announced. Was it him?? What about his family?? Should I go over there?? I wanted to run across the lawn and bang on the door and know for myself what was happening!! But as another wise military spouse once told me: “This is not about you.”

Many of us in the aviation community remember the tragic story of the spouse waiting to hear about the fate of her husband whose aircraft had crashed into the sea. “Search and Rescue Called Off” was shared by a Facebook “friend” before her CACO had made contact with her again. SHE LEARNED OF HER HUSBAND’S OFFICIAL DEATH ON FACEBOOK. Please pause and ruminate on that horrible tragedy.
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Unfortunately that is not the only example of gross social media failures amongst the military community. They are still happening. The only way to stop them is to be ever mindful of the speed of news and the online spaces that connect us all.

As I was thinking about this subject, I was hoping that my younger military spouse friends understood the gravity of these situations. And then it made me wonder if the public did. ? So maybe this is my non-official Public Service Announcement, to share the details of tragic circumstances to help people to understand that while knowledge is power, it is also tremendously tragic if used and propagated at the wrong time.

Please think soundly when you want to share an article about a service member’s recent death. If the Department of Defense has not yet officially released the names and the photos of the deceased, it is not appropriate to share ANYTHING. If you know the identity before that press release, please don’t post on a family’s timeline or newsfeed because, again, who is going to see that prematurely? Even a simple “I am so sorry for your loss”, written publicly at the wrong time, is vastly inappropriate.

REMEMBER: it’s not about you.

And it’s not about me.

It’s about caring for and respecting military families in the midst of crisis.

Please join me in protecting our service members and being good stewards of information.

**If you are interested in further supporting Navy & Marine Corps families in the midst of crisis’, consider donating to The Wingman Foundation at wingmanfoundation.org**

Military

Military Spouses and the Invisible Backpack: a conversation about stress

Featuredby messykitchenministry4 Comments

“Congratulations on your wedding and welcome to the military!” he said. “Here is your dependent ID card, your application for DEERS and your invisible backpack. Slip it over your shoulders, tighten the straps and you will be good to go.”

“Wait, what?” I said in confusion, turning around, trying to view my back. “You just put a backpack on me? Where? Why? I don’t see it!”

“Oh, you won’t ever see it, but it’s part of the package for every dependent.” he explained. “Don’t worry, every military spouse has one. Try not to let it get too heavy. Next in line please!”

“What are you talking about??” I tried to ask. Feeling confused, I shuffled out of the room and quietly began my military spouse journey, never fully understanding the baggage I was acquiring along the way. It would take me two decades to fully comprehend the invisible backpack.

****

Moving past that imaginary scenario, the beginning of my Navy life was a little rough, I’m not gonna lie. But through the years I learned to love it and by the time my husband reached twenty years I was 100% in. Sure, I had some strange rashes and unexplained health issues but never you mind that. All was well!

One day during our COVID quarantine, I was discussing mental health with a friend (six feet apart) and our conversation turned to that of military spouses. This friend so aptly described this life like wearing an invisible backpack that gets heavier and heavier as the years pass and I thought her analogy was PERFECT. (Thanks Rebecca!!)

Like frogs in a pot of water that gets warmer and warmer, military spouses often do not realize the stress they are carrying because of the incremental changes. Obviously, we know on the surface that we have challenges before us, but what choice do we have but to go about our business, get the jobs done, get the kids fed and do what we must? We channel Rosie the Riveter, pull up our positive pants, support our spouses and find dear friends to walk with us along the rocky path. But I’ve realized that in spite of our awesomeness, we are not taking enough time to consider the weight on our shoulders and the rock collections we gather. We simply cannot ignore this revelation. It goes like this…

We uproot ourselves and move to a new place. In goes a rock.

We kiss our spouses goodbye and go long stretches of time without seeing them. In goes a rock.

We live with a schedule which is always written in pencil. In goes a rock.

We solo-parent for days, weekends and months. In goes a large, heavy boulder.

We feel depressed and anxious but we don’t want to tell anyone because we are supposed to be “deployment strong”. In goes a rock. And then another.

We live within a constant countdown- when they are leaving, when they are returning, when we are moving- rock after rock go into our collections.

We manage the kids, the job, the pets, the household, the cars, the yard, the next move and all the small but significant details of life which make our backpacks heavier and heavier. But the truth is that we often don’t notice the weight because it disguises itself in the form of subtle, low, chronic stress that feels “normal”. Everyone around us is doing the same thing so this is just life, right? No big deal. (Notice that I am not talking about dealing with the stress of a spouse in war or combat. That stress is real and palpable and impossible to ignore.)

The reality is, these subtle pressures don’t seem like a big deal until our bodies and souls decide enough is enough. My “enough” moment came a few years ago when I was sitting in a dermatologist’s office, waiting for a diagnosis on a wicked rash on my scalp. The doctor took one look at me and said “On a scale of 1-10, this is a 20! Honey, you need to lower your stress, what have you been doing??” I thought about how my husband had been gone over five hundred nights in the last three years and how I had recently moved my family three thousand miles to a place where I knew almost zero people. My shoulders slumped and I began awkwardly crying in her office as I finally acknowledged that I had carried the world on my shoulders and I was exhausted. (So was the doctor after my strange, unexpected outburst!!)

But the truth is, until that doctor’s appointment, I wouldn’t have told you that I was bearing years of stress. As I said, I genuinely loved the Navy, our base was stellar and I was terribly sad to leave our community, even though it deployed again and again. I would have told you that there were times and periods of stress but far more positive days. So therein lays the problem: because I didn’t “feel” physically stressed all the time, I never did anything to actually relieve it. Because I didn’t “feel” the rocks in my invisible backpack, the stress accompanied me unnoticed and invisible.

I finished that week of doctor appointments with a couple auto-immune diseases on my plate and concluded that ignorance was definitely NOT bliss. While I had a genetic component to ultimately blame for these conditions, I was forced to finally understand that stress was real and active and definitely destructive, if not given proper attention. Armed with new awareness, I needed to remove that invisible backpack and quickly empty as many rocks as possible. NOW.

Do you? Have you ever considered the burdens on your shoulders and acknowledged the weight? Have you sat down and talked with your spouse and family about how you might lessen the load? Because IT IS OK TO NOT BE OK. It’s ok to admit that your shoulders are sore. It’s ok for us to take a time-out, evaluate our habits and start considering ways to help ourselves!

We can take stress and self-care seriously. This isn’t about going to the beach every weekend or planning a vacation for next summer. It’s about taking care of yourself in small, daily increments. Whatever lowers your stress for a brief moment- DO IT. Not later, but TODAY. Not when a deployment ends, but NOW. Every day. Here and there, make it happen.

We can be conscious of our schedules and current responsibilities and say NO more often. When your spouse is gone and you are juggling the world and someone asks you to volunteer for something, the answer might need to be NO. When all your kids want to join ten activities at once, the answer might also need to be NO. After my doctor’s lecture, I said NO to everything for a few months in my new city… but felt guilty and uncomfortable. What will people think?? I wondered. Short answer: WHY DID I CARE?? It was my life, my call and my health. I desperately needed that slow time and you might, too. But beware, you might start a blog in the middle of the stillness. 😉

We can hire babysitters or form a co-op to give our busy hands a break. Solo-parenting day after day after day is a weight on your shoulders, even if you adore your young children. Don’t feel guilty. Being YOUR best self is going to make you a better parent. Hear this: there is no golden trophy for the parent who never asks for help or goes through an entire deployment without a minute’s reprieve. The only reward is severe exhaustion. 😦

We can focus on finding community to help and support us– an FRG, an OSG, a neighborhood group, a club or a church. We were created to bear each other’s burdens and live in communion with one another. You don’t need to be a superhero in your own cave- come out and find a tribe!

We can tap into the resources offered to us by the military– Fleet & Family, Navy Chaplains, Military OneSource, and Child Development Centers all have resources to help you. Be brutally honest with yourself and the areas in which you need relief. And if you don’t know where to find it, ask your local spouses. If you don’t know anyone, message me and I will help you!

I have loved our twenty plus years in the military and wouldn’t trade them for the world (my reflections are here). But the subject of stress and mental health must be part of our broad conversation as we go forward. So let’s continue to talk about it, improve it and lighten our backpacks. IT’S TIME.

Wishing you all the very, VERY best!!

[Original unmodified photo by Joseph Young on Unsplash]

Life

Crying Over Spilled Champagne: the guilt and struggle of 2020

August 28, 2020October 2, 2024by messykitchenministry1 Comment

Years ago, when my husband was on a long deployment and my kids were little, I recall a civilian friend comparing our seven month deployment to her husband’s short business trip. “I know how you feel”, she said. I politely smiled but in my head I said “Umm…my situation is MUCH WORSE.”

Later, when my husband changed jobs and never left town I grew accustomed to his presence and almost panicked when he told me he had to travel for seven days. IN A ROW. I remember eating my words a bit and realizing that both situations presented some anxiety for mothers of young children, even if one scenario was more intense. Noted.

Fast forward to 2020. Admittedly, my life during this pandemic has been pretty easy. Since March, my family has not worried about unemployment or paying the bills. We have not worried about groceries or healthcare or a safe place to quarantine. My husband’s job continued as always, I had time to help my kids with online school and our stay-at-home orders found us watching movies and completing puzzles within the safety of our house.

On paper I have zero reason to complain. I have a large backyard in which my children can play, I have a community of friends around me who offer support. Plus, I am an introverted person who prefers to be at home above all else. Isn’t this what I always wished for? More time with my kids, more time at home and less time in the carpool lane? Haven’t I always valued the slow life? Haven’t I wanted time to stop so I can savor this stage of parenthood? YES!! EXACTLY!! So… what is the problem? Why am I feeling… down? (Is that something I can even admit without sounding like a complete jerk?)

Things could be so much worse, I tell myself. People’s businesses are going under, people’s loved ones are dying, people’s homes are being foreclosed and you are feeling down? Your husband isn’t deployed, your family isn’t sick…pull up your positive pants and make the best of this year! STOP CRYING OVER SPILLED CHAMPAGNE!!

But…I can’t. And I am consumed with guilt over it. I feel sad and… (dare I say it out loud?)…a little depressed. I’ve spent the past few weeks trying to snap out of it and distract myself and focus on the positive… but I am still struggling to maintain status quo. And I haven’t wanted to tell anyone because it makes me sound shallow and ungrateful for the ease of my life.

But might this be similar to the example above? If another person has a more intense experience than me, does it void my own? Someone could say “I have it worse than you” and I would agree 100%. No argument. But does that make my struggle unworthy of addressing? (This is my own self-talk here.) What if I stopped ignoring my feelings and actually dealt with them?

See, I haven’t been sleeping or eating or feeling well. My stomach hurts. I have found myself uninterested in doing much besides eating chocolate cake. (Maybe this is why my stomach hurts.) My best analogy is that I am living in a never ending holding pattern with no landing strip in sight. We circle around and around every day, on the same route, watching the same scene below, hoping somehow we will return to Earth.

We will invite friends to our house when COVID ends.

We will return to school when COVID ends.

We will attend church again when COVID ends.

We will travel to see our families when COVID ends.

I won’t be teaching third grade math when COVID ends.

But when is the END?? We don’t know! And that in itself is mentally exhausting. As a military spouse I can say that anything is possible if you have an end date. The unknown is what wrecks the mental game. So here I sit, admitting that my mental game is a bit haggard and disheveled. (Is yours?) Our short term survival-mode has turned into weeks, months and seasons, taxing our adrenals with its nebulous timeline and making us mentally tired. (And I haven’t even mentioned the stress of racial justice, wildfires or our nation’s upcoming elections. God help us.)

For the very first time in my life, this vague timeline feels more like an absence of a timeline. Every year I have progressed from one step to another, into another phase, another journey, another season. But in 2020, I am doing the exact same thing today that I was doing six months ago (just in a different state) and I am unsure when my movement will again begin. My kids are still schooling at home, public venues are still closed, activities are still cancelled, we are social distancing with all of our friends, and still not seeing our families. Our mental states are not only weary, but perplexed. And therein lays the root of my “problem”.

So how do I continue managing my mental health in an era of time that doesn’t seem to move? In my rational moments I do know that our world will eventually get past COVID-19, just like we moved forward from the Spanish flu and other pathogens. (And if not, Jesus is coming back y’all, so start investing in His heart and yours!) But the question remains- what do we do in the meantime, the “down” time, the never ending home quarantine? I’ve been thinking about it.

— We need to honestly acknowledge our feelings and talk with a trusted person about them. Maybe even a counselor. Are you aware of the common signs of depression?

Hopelessness

Lack of interest

Anxiety

Sleep problems

Changes in appetite

Irritability

Fatigue

*BE HONEST WITH YOURSELF.*

—We need to try to focus on the here and now, rather than three months down the road. We only know what life is like this week. Or this day. Or this hour. (And hasn’t 2020 taught us that the future is unpredictable?) Make today count!

—We need to try to find small ways to boost joy and keep the time moving forward. Maybe it’s a new soda every Thursday night (true story), decorating your Christmas tree three months early (considering it), Zooming with your best friend every week, leaving your house/ isolation unit for a day in nature or finding ways to volunteer and help your community. Make it happen!

— We can continue to give ourselves the same Grace in Quarantine Land that we offered to our souls in March. Have we forgotten this already? Admittedly, I needed a refresher.

Although I have days where I feel stuck in a never ending spin cycle of kids yelling at me over Google Classroom, I am trying to continue moving forward. One foot in front of the other, one more breakfast prepared in the kitchen, one more morning logging into our computers, one more afternoon reading with my sweet kids, one more evening kissing those precious faces goodnight. I have successfully passed much, much harder challenges than this. Truly, I am grateful for all that I have been given.

But if I feel a little downcast some mornings, I’m learning to be okay with that, too. 2020 is an entirely new sport and the former rules don’t always apply here. Some days I may win and some days I may lose, but I will try my best to make my plays count. And if not…well…there’s always more chocolate cake, right?

Good luck to us all,