Deployment: A Tangent of Observation and Growth

For the most part, I try not to mention Brance’s deployment to strangers. However, my job focuses on authentic relationships with guests, making the previous statement quite difficult. On days when his absence weighs on me, my genuine reaction is to talk about it positively. But, I’m never ready for the sincere reactions of others. Immediately pity washes over the faces of acquaintances and I regret my transparent personality. The last thing I want is the furled eyebrow that questions “how do you do it?”. Before I can answer, the pity transforms to guilt as they realize all the moments they’ve taken for granted in their own lives. They offer condolences, and I want nothing more than to apologize for bringing down the mood. I did not mean to darken the day. I just wanted to be real. Instead, my truth seems to victimize me. I smile and water down the details, because I don’t feel I deserve their pity. 

Fact: it’s not fun when you’re loved one is gone. 

Fact: the reading on the suck-o-meter is equally awful, whether he’s away at a conference for a few days or driving tanks in a war zone for a year. 

This is the part of army culture I loathe so greatly. There seems to be an unwritten competition between women over the many woes of the military lifestyle. If I’m struggling with deployment, instead of getting support, a fellow army wife might dilute the experience- “How long is your husband gone? Only 9 months?! Well John was gone for a whole year.”  

That’s great and all. But now John is sitting next to you, nursing a beer and caressing your thigh. You got your husband back.

It’s not the distance that bothers me, we’ve already proven we can conquer distance. It’s the uncertainty of it all. I want confirmation that I’ll get to have him in my arms again- I could wait forever if God would promise me that. But He doesn’t. Still, there is a hope and peace that counters the uncertainty. I don’t understand it, but I’ll take it. I just wish the few women who relate to my situation would stop comparing battle scars and start practicing empathy. 

There must be a middle ground between the awestruck pity party and the emotionless narcissist. I’m not saying I’m innocent, but this lifestyle I’m entering into is hard enough without us women telling one another that the other’s feelings are unfounded. Especially when these people are supposed to be a support system during tough times.  Fortunately, like all walks of life, there are good eggs within the stereotype (and I’ve found quite a few). 

It’s so easy to magnify your own suffering and overlook the pain of others. I’ve played the victim on multiple occasions. It took a situation the world views as difficult for me to realize how selfish that mindset is. I am now focused on eliminating myself from the equation when dealing with others. I never want to make another individual feel unworthy of being heard. Instead of listening until I have something to say, I leave room for others to speak. I’ve never considered myself a good listener- I was always much better at the talking part. 

It wasn’t until today that I recognized my growth in the area. I grabbed tea with a friend and she complimented my ability to ask caring questions and create a safe space for response. Her observation caught me off guard, it seemed so far from the person I viewed myself as. But I’m not the girl I used to be. As my experiences change me, I need to allow my definition of myself to morph with them. 

I’ve held on to the image of myself from our last season of long distance. I was often inconsolable over the distance I couldn’t control. Now, we’re in the same position and I’m not sure what triggered the positive adjustment. I’ve been genuinely happy, despite my circumstances, and consequently I am a better support system for Brance. I’m the person I wanted to be 1 year ago when I lived in New York and he moved to Washington. I'm living proof that change can happen, even when it’s impossible to trace its origins. 

Generation YOLO

I hate waiting- a consequence of being a privileged American. Waiting symbolizes inefficiency, an unacceptable quality in our every changing culture. We are a society plagued with FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out), desperate to have the golden egg the second it is available. We all know what happened to Veruca, and still we ignore Willy Wonka and reach for the undeserved prize. This attitude towards waiting corrupts our ability to understand the benefits of the process.  

Mothers try to convince us that some things are worth waiting for. We roll our eyes and mouth YOLO, while Miley Cyrus’ latest hit pulses through our earbuds- “we can’t stop, and we won’t stop.” Sad. We reject wisdom and glorify foolery. We encourage friends to “do you” which rationalizes anything short of mass murder. As long as you’re not hurting anyone, it’s all good. But what if you’re hurting you? 

Instead of learning patience and growing while we prepare ourselves to receive something worthwhile, we label waiting as an idle act- completely static. In turn, we praise busyness, scheduling each second of the day, so there is no time to assess our personal situation. In yogi terms, we avoid checking in. We fail to acknowledge the areas in our life that need change and support. 

The lack of attention paid to ourselves hinders us from learning personal grace. When we are finally forced to face a crumbling corner of our soul, it’s a permanent blow. We don’t have time to let the wound or shortcoming heal. Instead we label it broken, a irreversible fracture in our structure, and readjust our standards for ourselves. We live in mediocrity, because we don’t have the patience for greatness.

But there is time to heal. If we’re strong enough to slow down and embrace a season of waiting, we can mend our broken pieces and even grow. We can be great if we understand that it takes more effort to hold off on something you really want, than hurdle over prerequisites for rapid results. The former reaps long term benefits, the later delivers momentary bliss. Impatience breeds one night stands, not intimacy- eating disorders, not healthy habits- fast food, not free range. 

We omit the long term to feel in the moment, then we fill the empty space left over with whatever we can to avoid analyzing yesterday. In reality, analyzing yesterday, spontaneous or premeditated (idiotic or awesome), is our way of knowing ourselves. If we are apathetic to our experiences, we are lost. Unfortunately, intimacy, even with ourselves, takes time and patience. We must commit to holding ourselves accountable and stop rationalizing our stupidity. We must decide who we are and who we aren't, and act accordingly. A mistake is not a permanent blemish, but an opportunity to learn and hopefully not repeat. Taking care of ourselves will teach us grace and forgiveness toward our faults, and also help us forgive others. The road is long and involves a lot of waiting before any breakthrough.  But 10 years from now, we’ll be happy to recognize and respect the face staring back at us in the mirror.

What makes me an expert on patience? I'm not. However, circumstance forced me, with little choice, into the world of waiting. I fell in love with an army officer. I moved to Seattle. We got engaged. He deployed. I’m not just waiting on our wedding. I’m waiting for my other half to come home safely from Afghanistan. I refuse to accept that this season adds up to Netflix movies and late night worrying. There has to be more. I needed to find meaning and movement in this time of uncertainty. Slowly, as I explore myself and this city, I am growing and learning beyond my expectations. I am finding the the space between busyness and stillness. It is good. 

Strides for Change: Run, Read, React

I’ve been a runner for the majority of my life. Some twisted soul decided cross-country and track should be the only sports available to students at my elementary school. So while most children participated in modified soccer, basketball, or softball- I was running hills (for fun?). I still don’t understand how my coaches coaxed a bunch of 4th-8th graders to run repeats and long distances. But I am eternally grateful to Mr. Robinson and Mrs. Rogers for introducing me to my favorite pastime. I only wish I had realized my love earlier and thanked them properly.

Unfortunately, I was under appreciative and decided not to run my 8th grade year (my coaches were not very happy). But like the young brokenhearted always say, “If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it’s your forever.” Well, I can’t exactly say I let running “go”. I suppose in the scenario, running let me go. And I came back years later, on my own, and the rest is history.

Running and I have been living happily ever after for a while now. In college I started tackling races again. At first it was satisfying, but eventually I started to feel a void. Running offered me so much- an outlet for my stress, a decent pair a legs, and a healthy appetite. In a loving relationship (if you can call it that) there reaches a point when the two participants fill each other so much that they overflow and offer something to the rest of the world. I realized running and I were reaching that point and I didn’t know where to channel the overflow. That’s when I encountered Team in Training.

Team in Training is a team (no really?) that trains (what?) to run some amazing races across the nation. What makes this team so unique? They don’t just run, they are responsible for fundraising over $1.4 billion. The money they raise goes to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (LLS)- a group dedicated to ending blood cancers today. They are responsible for radical research that saves lives. Just last weekend, I heard Darren, a survivor of stage IV Hodgkin Lymphoma, tell his story. Darren was diagnosed during his engagement and he and his then fiance postponed their wedding for treatment. When chemo was unsuccessful, the two lovebirds got married and enjoyed their honeymoon before turning to LLS. The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society offered him a stem cell transplant that provide him and his now wife 10 years... and their story isn’t over.

I joined the team without a personal connection to blood cancer. At first, I felt like I didn’t have the right to ask people for money, because I didn’t have a moving story. I also felt I didn’t need to go to practices, because I was already in half marathon shape. Oh the things I have learned. I went to my second practice this weekend and was overwhelmed by the support and stories of others. Everyone was so invested in helping each other reach their goal- their support overflowed and poured into one another. One second I was a stranger, the next a teammate. Everyone was amazing- they are the kind of people I want to be surrounded by daily. Needless to say, I will be attending a lot more practices from now on. I was inspired and left the practice feeling like a vital asset to the mission. 

My quest to run for more than myself has proven more transformative than I thought. I  am not only challenged to raise more money than ever before, but I am recognizing a need for companionship during this time in my life- I am a new resident of Seattle missing her deployed running partner. Most importantly, I  am learning to care deeply about the mission and its ability to bring hope. I carry every story I hear with me and it encourages me to keep pounding the pavement- through ran, wind, and hail. Someone’s story can change for the better.

Please click HERE and donate on my website. Cancer ends with us!

Thank you for reading and reacting.

Go Team!!

Don't Judge A Person By Their Polaroid

I moved out to Seattle in May and, despite my constant exposure to change, I am not immune to the transition associated with it. We all adapt differently to change and I am beginning to recognize my own challenges in making a new place feel like home.

Recently, Richard, the head pastor at Bethany Community Church, stated that “intimacy is not microwaveable.” We cannot expedite our way into deep meaningful relationships by popping it in the microwave for two and a half minutes. It takes time, patience, and a lot of effort to create genuine lasting friendships. That was very hard for me to accept, as a woman who craves constant change. But as I let the idea marinate, I recognized the truth behind his words and found, in my own life, where I struggle to form intimate bonds.

When I first meet people, I see them as 2 dimensional. The facts I associate with them- their name (if I can remember it), occupation, home state, hobbies etc., become the only truths about them. Unfortunately, more times than not, these surface details leave a flat and relatively uninteresting impression. I forget to leave room for their character to reveal itself. As a writer and a people person, this revelation is nothing short of horrifying. Also, it confirms the origin of my least favorite habit.

I have an irrational need to spill my own soul to strangers and mere acquaintances. I want them to see my depth immediately for fear of dismissal or disinterest. I don’t want them to do to me, what I often do to others. In the process, I share too much, leaving myself vulnerable and exposed to those who didn’t earn my trust. Basically, I try very hard to microwave my own intimacy... always unsuccessfully. 

Fortunately, my 2D view is never permanent and always develops into something positive. Slowly (the way intimacy is meant to happen) I start to peel away the surface and delve into good stuff. My initial paper-thin perception starts to expand and gain width. This newfound girth creates understanding and compassion- revealed complexities leave little room for annoyance or judgement and make space for unconditional love. The 2D often captures an unflattering snapshot of a person, while the 3D allows us to dismiss the initial negative and reveal the infinite intricacies of human beings. Despite my awareness of this, I still find myself extremely surprised every time I encounter contradictions to my first impression. It’s like getting exactly what I wanted on Christmas morning without even asking. I love it. However, I do not approve of the instantaneous judgement that precedes it. So this week, I have turned my critical eye on myself in hopes of breaking my habit. Instead, I found I already harbored a superficial version of myself.  

To the inceptive eye, I am a talkative, friendly, confident army brat that feeds into the military stereotype of getting married young and hurriedly. I’m that girl that moved across country for the man she loved, who makes feminist cringe because she hasn’t figured out her career yet.  

All along, I’ve carried this 2D perception of myself in my sub conscience. Although a part of me knows I am more than that, I have given weight to the potential (not actual) misperceptions others might make of me. This need to be liked and understood breeds a damaging insecurity that can be paralyzing. Not to mention, it hinders intimacy. Despite the truth that I am a strong, independent woman (I moved out to Seattle to start a life knowing that my fiance would be deployed), my story is overshadowed by my insecurity that people will overlook my character and see this untrue shadow of myself as the whole package. 

To overcome this detrimental habit, I must let go of my 2D image of myself. I need to have grace for myself, so I can regain confidence and abolish insecurity. That way, I can look at other people with the same grace and stop the unflattering proofs from ever becoming photographs. Intimacy is not microwavable, but it is achievable if we are wiling to put in the time and overlook that initial snapshot.