Common Thread Comfort

When I think of those people I choose to surround myself with on a regular basis, I find that there is usually an invisible thread that ties us together. It is not the places we live, or the schools our kids attend, or even the personal interests and hobbies we have. It is the circumstances we face and the journey we have endured that are the true ties that bind. It is the common roads we have traveled.

When I share my story or listen to another's I am most comfortable when I can relate. This is no doubt why most of my close friends are military spouses. Even more specific, ones who have dealt with hardships brought on by the last 10 years of surviving deployments and the aftermath of their soldier returning home. Don't get me wrong, deployments themselves are hard. We all know that. The extensive separation, the worry and the "having to do it alone" are tough and will test even the strongest of women.  However, it's when your soldier returns home, and the rest of the world celebrates, that some of our hardest challenges surface.

I don't know a single woman that will tell you war did not change their husband. I know no soldier that has deployed and not come home more jaded, hardened, and even damaged. The damage may not be physical, but it is almost surely their soul and spirit that suffer.  We live in a movie age where homecomings are celebrations and life is full of happy picnics and reading bedtime stories as a family. The reality is that even with our soldier home, this is not an automatic transition.

I remember after my Hubster's first combat deployment telling our family NOT to plan on being here upon his return. I told them we needed, well HE needed, time to transition back into family life. I was met with the statement, "Transition from what???"  At that point I had to walk away from the conversation before I blew a fuse and popped off at the mouth saying something I may later regret. I realized that even through all the cards and care packages they had sent, our family was clueless to what he had just lived through.

It's when in the company of others who understand what this life entails that I feel my strongest. It is when we can share a morning conversation and openly discuss tempers, reclusive behaviors, rigidness, intimate distance, and other realities that plague our fairy tale homecoming that I know I am not alone and my experience is valid. When I am building walls around me to avoid dealing with the ignorance of others it is these women that are there with me passing me the stones and mortar.

I am grateful for outside support. I appreciate family and "back home" friends' kind words. However, when it comes down to the nitty gritty and I am worn down to the bone that I will call on those on the same side of the wall. I know they will not only listen, but truly understand. They have lived it all too and that is a bond that can never be broken.

Celebrating Our Children's Milestones

During a conversation today about the milestones our children reach, my friend pointed out something I had never though of.  Everyone goes through the emotions of their "baby's" first step, first day of school, first day at camp, first date, first graduation, etc. As mothers we are expected to cry, feel a sense of loss, and even mourn our child's youth as it flies by faster than we can keep up with.

The point my friend made was that by allowing our children to see us sob our eyes out as we enroll them into school or as they walk toward the group they have been assigned at camp, we are making our child feel guilty for growing up and "leaving us."  No child likes to disappoint their mother.  Even at almost 33 years old, the sight of my own mother in tears is something that crushes my soul. Why do we do this? Why are we not celebrating these milestones rather than making our child feel like this is something that is traumatic for their parent?

I remember Mini Me's first day of school. I was so thrilled for her to be able to meet new friends, gain some independence from me, and learn so many new things! I tried very hard to convey how proud I was of her for being brave and getting on that bus without Mommy. She was 3. Now granted, once that bus turned the corner and was out of sight I did feel a pain of emptiness. Mini me, however, was none the wiser.Even this week as I drove away from dropping her off at her first day of gymnastics camp, I had that split second panic of, "oh, God, I hope she'll be alright."

It's during those times when we want to sob and cry we have to remember that we are not raising babies, or even children, we are raising adults. Empowering them to someday graduate not only from school, but also from the dependence of us parents. By giving them the sense of adventure, and bravery, and excitement they will be more confident when faced with new things. They will know we are always there cheering them on, and they can boldly go forward without having to worry about Mom's emotional state. The last thing I want Mini Me to think about before leaving the house this new school year, is "My big day is making my mommy sad."

Afterall, I can always cry after she's gone.

He's Not Your Best Friend!

It's been a while since I've posted and with Summer in full swing the days are flying by faster than I can keep up with. Between vacation and visitors my writing and inspiration for so have taken a hiatus. However, I became aware of something that has been weighing on my heart that I just can't seem to comprehend. So in true Me fashion, I'm doling out some tough live.

Girls, and when I say girls I am talking primarily about the 18-23 year olds, you seriously need to take a step back and learn the definition of friendship. If you are allowing some guy to text you things like "let's fuck" and have so little respect for yourself that you are running over to his house, dropping your panties, and letting him treat you like his personal whore...something is wrong. You are creating a generation of men who think they are entitled to sex without ever having to commit in any way to you.  If you do this enough times with enough different guys you are no more than a party favor being passed around. I'm sure you've heard the old saying "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?"

Mark my words, someday when you are in your mid twenties to early thirties you are going to start seeing these men get married. You're going to wonder why it is you are always in charge of the guest book or gift table rather than getting to be the bride. After all, in your twisted mind you were his  "best friend." Let me clue you in. By that point in time, if you keep doing what/who you are doing, to them you will be no more than a used up old rag that has let too many men wipe their d*ck on. No body marries that girl.

So do yourself, and the rest of the women of your generation a favor. Close your legs. Remember you are worth MORE than being anyone's booty call. Your body is a gift from God, don't treat it as any less than that. If some guy is using you for sex and not committed to YOU alone, do yourself a favor and get rid of his ass!