not so angry anymore

Sitting maybe three feet across from me is my best friend, the person who just gets me. He knows the intricacies. He knows my ins and outs. He requires me to offer no explanations. He just gets it. I can write an angry, massive Army venting blog and he'll go, "Okay. You got it out. Do you feel better now?" I am thankful for that. I am thankful for his ability to make me laugh. I am thankful for how much he loves me.

I know that he didn't settle. I know that he doesn't look at me and say to himself that I'm better than nothing. I was his top prize...first choice...intense desire. I was his superstar.

I have never met an individual that knew me as intimately as he did. I have never known someone that I have adored so quickly, especially with as much resistance as I dished out. I fought him. I fought him with all the might I had. But he would just smile, or call, or write, or anything and I would cave. I would crumble. I could not resist him.

Right now I am surrounded by chaos. My son is playing with an exercise ball, while my daughters are chasing each other around. The noise volume is intense. I love the sound of my children's laughter. My lobster is sitting on the couch with his torn at the knee jeans on, wearing a dad t shirt that I got him when we found out we were pregnant with our oldest.

While I sit here I think to myself that this is what contentment feels like. This is what love looks like. I wouldn't change a thing. Even if he goes away and never comes back, I wouldn't change a thing. I wouldn't give back of moment of my affection. Even if he cheats on me and decides I am no longer worth his time, I wouldn't regret a moment of my love for him. Even if he loses his mind and I have to walk down the valley of the shadow of death, I wouldn't wish him away.

I know that the very previous post was filled with my adult version of a temper tantrum, and you're probably thinking, huh!? but this is who I am. I am messy, and confusing, and complicated, and dramatic. I am intense and passionate. I am human.

I was wanting to write more...but my lobster has asked me to get off of here so that I can go help him. Off I go! Hope you're having a good night, where ever you all are! :)

here comes little angry me.

note: I am a human being and I do experience anger. I was venting emotions that I needed to vent. I will always honor, support, and encourage my soldier in whatever it is that he's doing. I admit I am impulsive and weak-willed. My soldier knows that there is no individual who supports him more than I. Last night was a difficult night with some things that came up. I will always support my soldier, the Army, and the unit he is serving with. I know, that all things have a reason and purpose behind them, even if I don't agree with them at the time. Our soldiers' Chains of Command work hard to protect, consider, support, develop, fight for, fight with, and train up our soldiers. However, they do make stupid decisions sometimes...that's all I'm saying.

I think I just might be done. I think I am almost to the point of quitting. I think I could very well end up being one of those ultimatum giving wives...I think I just might tell him it's over.

I'm just over this life. I'm sick of goodbyes. I'm tired of crying children. I am tired of more and more days and moments where my kids don't get to say goodnight to him. I am sick of a freaking job where they refuse to promote him with no explanations, no 'work on this' statements, nothing. Just...nope. You're not ready. When asked why, they fumble around with a bunch of stupid um...uh...er...you should know why answers. I'm over it.

Five freaking times. I have stood by, waited patiently, held down the homefront, supported, wrote letters, sent care packages, led FRG's, been BN funds custodian, Co led FRG's, won countless awards for 'supporting the FRG and my soldier' and on and on. I am just over it. I have prayed, I have fought, I have cried, I have surrendered, I have given more than I even know how to describe. I gave up dreams. I gave up hopes. I walked away...I. am. tired.

It's an agonizing conflict within myself. Because I feel this resentment developing. I am so angry. I am so angry that I went to bed angry and woke up angry. I can't stand that. I am so sick and tired of doing everything alone. I am sick of not being able to make plans, barely being able to prepare my children of whats ahead. I am tired of plans changing with a "oops...my bad" response. Yes cell phones, no cell phones, yes cell phones, no cell phones and on and on with the vicious cycle. You'd better buy phone cards if you want to talk to your family, but oh wait, we're going to take away about $400 of your pay too. It's all good, private, with a wife and a couple of kids. Don't worry.  The Army's  got your back. The Army will take care of you. Really!? They can barely pay their bills as it is...so what's the solution? Ask the Chaplains for food vouchers. Go get an AER loan...wow. Wow. What a wonderful solution. Or your other alternative is to not speak to your children for a freaking month. Especially when time is short and goodbye's are on the horizon. And lets be honest, for some people, it is possible those goodbyes will be permanent. We can't live in denial like it isn't possible that some people could die. Or get hurt and come home insane.

I know I have to surrender. I know I have to throw up my freaking hands and just say screw it. I know I have to roll with the punches and just deal. I know that. And I know I will. I am just so tired of stupidity. I am so sick of people not thinking things clearly. I know that if I voiced these perspectives what I'd be met with, "We are doing this to 'train'". Excuse me while I call that BS. That isn't 'training'. If it's really about training, then pay your families all of the extra bonuses we get while deployed, so that they can afford those ridiculous phone cards. Provide internet access, so that the soldiers can skype with their kids. Come on.

I am so sick of this nonsense. I am so sickened when I have wives already freaking out about not being able to pay their bills, or feed themselves. I fear not for myself. We can afford it (which has stemmed from a vast amount of planning, and preparation, in having dealt with the army for ten years). The alternative is no communication? Really? That's the alternative? You're about to say goodbye for a year, and four weeks, quite frankly, is a big deal.

I was so upset last night by a phone call that I literally couldn't talk. I got to church and I just had to pray and pray and pray. Cry and pray. Pray and cry. Life is always about control on some level. It's always about learning to surrender it and learning to let it go. I know that this is my lesson in the midst of this life. I know that God will never give up on teaching it to me until I have it down so jam packed that it's no longer an issue. I realize that.

I just don't feel like doing this today. I am so tired.

silence

I don't usually invite the lobster into my Army Wives program watching. It often times is filled with his criticisms his critiques and on and on.
"The uniform doesn't look like that!"
My response: "We have already established they can't legally wear the correct uniform."
"She wouldn't do that job." 
"She can't wear that combat patch."
This goes on and on and on and on. I usually get so annoyed that I either turn it off or miss half of the show. I have been slightly keeping up with what is going on in the current season of AW and I know someone dies. It might not be one of the main characters, I don't know. I have my own theories, but that's all they are...theories. Because I know a funeral is on the menu, I want to get through the current season I am watching, and the new season before the lobster deploys. Call it an emotional need.

Last night we watched an episode together. It was a sad one. The episode was about all of the ladies saying goodbye to their husbands as they deploy to Afghanistan. Since my family's deployment is so close on the horizon it was emotional. The night before is agonizing. The morning of is painful. The letting go hurts. Needless to say, I was heavily sobbing. We were not in the casual sniffle and tear mode folks. We were in the clothes are wet with tears, heavy sobbing place.

A couple of things struck me while in this frame of mind. First off, the lobster handed me a box of kleenex. To write this now, makes me laugh. He just gets certain things about me. I find it funny how a box of tissues can make someone paid attention to and loved. Secondly, he didn't nit pick the episode that much. He did a little in the beginning. As it got to the goodbye part, he was mostly quiet. I know he did this for me. I know he was still, in his mind, critiquing the uniforms and on and on. Thirdly, when the episode ended and I needed to just sit in silence and sort of ponder things, he didn't try to interrupt my thoughts with words. He just sat in silence with me.

I am not a panicky, freak out about deployments, kind of gal. I do grieve though. It does hurt. It has never been my norm to think fatalistic thoughts or to have dramatic thoughts. In all of our previous deployments, it has always been the goodbye part that has been hard. There is a process to this whole thing. The Army has labelled them the 7 steps. I suppose I don't feel the need to label them. It is what it is. You know? There is no way around the situation...it hurts.

My mindset this morning is strange. I know the heartache is heading my way. I know the goodbye is going to come. It doesn't really matter what I want at this point. It is what it is. Last night it felt good to just be silent and close. I am thankful for that.

For Indie :)

Have you heard that song called "Say Hey (I Love You) by Michael Franti? If you haven't then you have some serious youtube searching, or googling that needs to be done. It is the best song ever. Okay, maybe not best ever, but it's the song that for the past few weeks has been my go to.

Sometimes life just gets ugh. Seriously! Sometimes the weight of all things humanity descends on you and everything feels muffled or foggy or gray. The sky is gray, the sand is gray, the ocean is gray sort of thing. Sometimes our hearts are a muscle, and quite frankly, they're sore. Sometimes the darkness into which praying people pray feels like the only dominating experience of your life. Sometimes crap is winning, or at least it feels like it is.

When the haze started to clear for me, this song randomly popped up in my life. It really was destiny. I never listen to non Christian radio. Seriously. I'm not interested in depressing nonsense. One day in my car, I bumped the radio or something, and it flipped to a different radio station. That Franti song was playing. It instantly took my head and heart from a no fly zone, to a head bopping, heart thumping, smile stretching kind of place. It reminded me about the excellence of love and how it just make you want to groove. It also reminded me that the sun is always shining, even if there are some gray clouds hanging out in front of it.

So this one goes out to my lobster. The coolest dude on the planet. The perfect pairing to my psyche. The completion of my malleable palate. He is my counterpart. My partner in crime. My defender of justice. He is the stable to my chaos, the embracer of my dug in heels and criss crossed arms. To him, "I say hey I'll be gone today. But I'll be back around the way. It seems like everywhere I go, the more I see the less I know. But I know one thing, that I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you!" :)

The big brother I always wanted. This one's for you MEW.

I will never forget when I first met him, it was on the phone. It is kind of funny that the two men in my life that I have loved the most (not regarding my pops) have both come into my life via the phone. I actually never made that correlation until just now. Hm. Okay, anyways...my friend at the time was going to a dance with him and I, being the protective friend that I am, wanted to make sure he was legit and nice. I don't know how I was intending to handle things if he was a jerk, but...I guess I didn't really think about things like that back then. I remember talking to him the first time on the phone...I was a social butterfly. Seriously. I have always been pretty outgoing, and I was in this instance. But, EVERY SINGLE question that I asked him was met with a "I'm not going to tell you that!" Seriously!? They weren't personal questions either. It was like, "What's your favorite subject in school? What's your favorite song." Seriously. Stuff like that. He was the most secretive, self controlled human being I had ever met. I was challenged by this. I was bound and determined to understand him. I have no explanation for my almost instantaneous fondness for him. It was in no way romantic. Not even slightly. Not even the tiniest of hints in regards to romance. For some reason, I was connected. I remember the only thing I could ever get him to talk about was football. So our friendship bonded over that. He talked about football and I talked about....well, mostly everything else, while he listened. It was an equation that worked for us.

Why am I telling you this story now? Because MEW was the first person that ever made me feel loved. Seriously. He was the first person who wasn't obligated to love me, accept me, or be there for me. He had nothing to gain. He has never liked me romantically (trust me. I promise). I wasn't someone he could cheat off of at school (different schools). We didn't go to church together (he doesn't). There was literally no logical reason for the connection.

It is very difficult for me to communicate in words my affection for him. Quite simply put, he is my older brother. Seriously. He just is, though not biologically. Let me lay it out for you...he is the only person in my life, who isn't my bio sibling that I can fight with to the point that I literally want to rip his throat out (and vice versa), not talk to each other for a month or two because we're mad, and then pick up the conversations again with no issues. We might have a casual, quick chat, about what we were mad about but that's it. We fight hard, don't talk, then move on.

We have been together through countless relationships, broken hearts, challenging life experiences, depressions, elations, terrifying situations, and on and on. We have laughed, I have cried (come on...he is a dude!), fought like crazy, supported, pointed out flaws, and had each other's backs. I will never forget how badly I wanted to kick the you-know-what of an ex girlfriend of his who completely messed him over. To this day I'm slightly bitter and I might say something if I ever saw her. But that's what you do when you love someone, right? You have their back.

The first time I knew I mattered to him was as I was coming off a year of earthly hell. The person I was in a relationship with totally messed me up. I mean, the ugly kind. I was sort of traumatized by it. Okay, not sort of, I really was. I was a basket case. I remember MEW telling me if that guy ever showed his face he was going to beat him down. I remember how mad he was. It was in that moment, through that situation, that I knew that hard hearted, stubborn as all get out, "I'm-not-going-to-tell-you-that" individual's heart had softened to this insanely outgoing, ballsy, borderline cocky (he would completely tell you that I am insanely cocky and enter in a statement about me being the Queen right here), and deeply sensitive individual. It was then, that I began to know what it meant to have someone love me who didn't have to, wasn't obligated to, and had nothing to gain from it. That is beautiful.

To be honest, I have never seen a friendship like ours. Seriously. We are over ten years out from high school (and he's older than me so he left first) and we are still friends. He is still my big bro. He would still beat down probably any dude that messed with me, and vice versa. He still bosses me around, and vice versa. He still points out my flaws, and challenges my perspectives, and vice versa.

So this posting is dedicated to my big bro, who my only son is named after. You have gotten me through countless screwed up relationships, hard experiences, things I didn't think I'd be able to get through, cry fests, angry outbursts, screwed up statements I have made, and on and on. You were the only person who didn't laugh at me when I was 19 and told you I met the dude I was going to marry. You were the only person bold enough to tell me to ditch the interim dude and go back to my lobster. You were the one who, over starbucks coffee, told me that he is the only boy you have ever seen me be in love with. You helped me handle crazy-ville when I didn't think I could, without rejecting him. You accepted my dramatic antics, my black and white perspectives, my intense religiousness, my foot-in-mouth statements, my impulsiveness, and my hypocritical actions. You have always accepted me as is. I hope you always know what you mean to me. I am in awe of you. I am grateful for you.

Here's to another fifteen years, and to you, hopefully, finding a girl and settling down soon. What? I can hope, right!? :)

Work it. :)

Last night the lobster was working on his dress uniform. I know...all of my ladies are collectively inhaling and exhaling, closing their eyes, imagining the hotness of the outfit...snap out of it! We need to focus! No more day dreaming. Even as I write this I'm still secretly day dreaming. :)

He was working on the uniform and getting it all lint rolled, and double checking all of the measurements, etc etc, and it got me thinking, how many things am I really meticulous about? I have several things that I pay close attention to, deep study of, and work hard to maintain and protect.

First, and foremost is my faith. Not that Jesus needs protecting, but I hold that deeply close to my chest, and am constantly evaluating and examining if I am in line with God's will for my life. I want to grow more like Him, always.

Second, is my marriage. Truth be told, apart from my faith, this takes the majority of my time and effort. In the majority of ways, my faith directly effects my marriage. There is no single, human activity that I hold with higher regard, significance, or level of importance in my life. My husband is the single most important person walking this planet. In him I am held accountable, encouraged, and challenged. It is my heart's highest goal (and I believe the most honorable position to ever hold) in order to work to be a helper suitable to him, and to offer him the respect that is commanded by God, and desired by my husband.

Third, my chicken nuggets. No, not the McDonalds kind, but the kid kind. :) What greater calling do we ever have, than to raise children to be responsible, kind, generous adults!? I have been blessed with four little people to guide and equip. I would give my life without even blinking an eye, to protect them.

Fourth, my extended family. It's weird how things change as we get older. When someone would say something about my family, I always thought of my parents and siblings. Now, it isn't that way. When I talk about my family, I mean my husband and children. My sisters and my parents are in a different category. I know this is all a part of the leaving and cleaving aspect of life, but it's still kind of funny how we change as we grow older. They are deeply important to me. It takes hard work to maintain relationships, communication, and laughter, especially as we all go through different experiences in life and live in different places.

Fifth, my friends. I am excessively cautious about my friends. One might argue, in an extreme way. My best friend Koria (I know I never put actual names, but since that's a nickname, you will never know who I am actually talking about....security maintained! Ha!) told me a long time ago that I needed to be more choosy about my friends. She was right. I have almost become militant in this regard. My private life is extremely personal to me, and I am deeply selective about who I will allow to be a part of that. I also am constantly evaluating whether or not someone is genuine, trustworthy, or going to be a benefit to my life. Lets be honest, some people are just life drainers. You know exactly what I'm talking about, because we all have encountered them: the negative nancy's. You know those people who are constantly self berating, self defeating, complaining, whining, or "hurting" (exception: some times good friends are really going through a horrible time...this is not what I am referring to. It is our duty to stand by our friends as they encounter hardships. I am talking about the people who are ALWAYS in crisis, and never willing to grow or change. It's always the rest of the world's fault for their misery). In my older age, I have decided to quickly nix people like that from my life. I have neither the time, nor the emotional fortitude to be someone's emotional punching bag. I honestly want to shout at them to grow up. Life is short. Vent your crap and move on.

Sixth, the world. Honestly, the world is important to me. I want to be a giver of love and compassion to others. I am not always perfect at this (I am a work in progress....deeply so), but it is a desire in my heart. We pray every morning that God will open our eyes to the needs of others, and give us the courage and the strength to act on those needs. Sometimes it means hugging a homeless man. Sometimes it's pulling over to help a stranded person. Sometimes it's listening while someone vents. Where ever the Holy Spirit moves.

So that's my story and I'm sicking to it...meticulously. :)

Question

Have you ever noticed that there really isn't a portion of the Bible about "a man's worth" or a "virtuous man"? I was thinking about this the other day...and sort of wondering why that is. Why does God take the time to lay out to human beings what a woman's value is, and does not do the same thing for women. Is it because men have no value, so there is really no need to articulate what a "good" man looks like? Is it that all men are considered to be inherently valuable, and so there is a distinction between them and women (women, not all valuable, but men, all are)? Is it that women already intrinsically know what a good man looks like, and so we don't need to have it spelled out for us? Is it that men are so blinded by physical appearance, or smoke and mirrors, that they fail to recognize a woman's worth? Is it that women work themselves to the bone, pushing themselves so hard, that God felt the need to remind us that it is for a purpose, for His glory, that it has meaning?

Just some thing I have been wondering the past few days. :) Feel free to share any insight you might have.