Kids,
This was part of a writing assignment for my favorite class. It's a couple of months old, but I wanted to share it here so that when you finally get old enough to read this thing, you can read it to glimpse a bit into my head space with Daddy gone again. Here it is, unedited:
How am I doing? It’s the simplest
phrase yet filled with an overwhelming sense of complexity. In some ways, I’m
doing “fine.” I’m feeding myself and my children. I live in a home which is
slowly becoming what I hope it will be (we bought a fixer upper which is now
almost completely “fixed up!”). I have a vehicle, which works, and gasoline and
food in my refrigerator. My children will not go to sleep tonight wondering
when their next meal will be. I have zero question about my husband’s deep and
beautiful love for me. He offers me enormous grace, comfort, and support,
something I treasure deeply after 20 years of togetherness. These gifts, these
treasures, are not lost on me. I work hard to be grateful. I like to celebrate
the good.
Life
isn’t always “good,” though, is it? We’ve been living the Army life for
21 years. My husband has served in every single Iraq War campaign, a
distinction I have been told only 4 other active Army personnel have. I have
sat by our closest friend, as she buried my husband’s best friend. I have heard
so many 21-gun salutes, shed so many tears, I can’t even begin to quantify them
all. We were supposed to retire. He was supposed to stay home, and we
were supposed to be transitioning into life outside of the military telling us
when we get days off, when we can go on vacation, where we will live… I come
across as ungrateful. I realize this all too well. His military job has
afforded us many benefits. But when he came home and told me he was moving to a
new unit, and would be deploying in two weeks, because some stupid man has
stupid ideas about destroying countries that are doing nothing to him… As I
write this, tears fall. I am so.tired.of.war.
School,
all of a sudden, lost me. I am a passionate learner. I love reading and learning and diving in. I
realize that sounds so lame in our society today, but it’s who I am. I enjoy
hearing about people’s opinions and beliefs. I want to learn everything I
can for as long as I can. I love being challenged and questioned. I am a
perfectionist to the core, but I enjoy the journey of growth, genuinely. The
week my husband left, I had to do an Art History assignment which forced me to
look at the staged bodies of dead Civil War Soldiers. It was immensely
traumatic. I found my heart overwhelmed with rage. I wrote, and rewrote, and
rewrote the assignment for that activity a thousand times, editing out the
curse words and vitriol that kept escaping. Timing is everything. I don’t
believe in coincidences. That shit show happened, that week, for a reason. I
feel no animosity towards my professor. How could she possibly have known, and
I assume if I could have communicated the situation with her, she would have
been abundantly merciful. I wasn’t mad at her. I was mad that in days I would
be saying goodbye to my best friend because of fucking war.
At the same time, I am navigating
all of the emotions regarding my first family. I am unpacking the Mount
Everests I have built up in my spirit, and I’m trying to begin the process of
taking one foot and placing it in front of the other. In some ways, time feels
like it slows. I feel acutely aware of the earth, the seasons, and the
intensity. I simultaneously want to bury myself under a blanket and ignore it
all, especially now with my husband gone. But again, timing is everything and
all of this shit is rising up without him here, for a reason. At some point,
one must learn how to navigate grief, rage, sorrow, and even forgiveness, on
their own. But how do you forgive the monster that floods your dreams? How do
you accept the devastation that’s been done? The only answer I can give is to
write, talk, and share.
I am grieved about the state of
our country, our world, our planet. I am saddened by people feeling so angry
over being asked to wear a mask for others. I am sad that selfishness is the
language of the day. I feel sorrow that Native Americans have so much
disregard. I feel grief that my husband and children are reduced to Indigenous
imagery such as loving nature and being full of wisdom (side note: they do
love nature and my husband, even my kids, has a lot of wisdom. The point is
that they are not viewed as whole persons, rather as Indian characters). I feel
sad when my daughter’s Cherokee status is dismissed and rejected because she
has pale skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes. I feel sorrow that we still live in
a world that decides everything about you based on how you look, whether it’s
true or not.
I love to laugh. I
love sitting down with a good friend, pouring out our hearts, challenging each
other’s opinions, and laughing until my cheeks hurt. This is my idea of a
beautiful moment. Today, however, it’s as if laughter has lost me. I feel so
much sorrow. I have switched my focus to one hour at a time, and for some
moments, one minute. I ask myself What
can I do right now, this moment? What do I need to do for myself? The answer isn’t always the same. Self-care
looks vague when you have deadlines and responsibilities. But nothing is
permanent. This too shall pass…
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