Everyone is always asking me, “What is the secret for surviving a deployment?”, and I swear my response changes every time I answer. Some days it is the official, “A strong support network and plenty of me-time”. Other days it is the more honest answer of, “Coffee, chocolate, and wine.” And of course, there are those days—I am talking about those mornings when you really don’t care if you wear your slippers to work – when I hear myself responding, “Don’t know… but I will let you know when (and if) I make it.”
Now, I’ll be honest, I am a pretty confident woman. Give me a challenge, and I will do everything in my power to conquer it. Marathon? Sounds like fun. Grad school? Who needs sleep. Take 3 kids to an indoor water park for Christmas break? Well…let’s just say that I will never attempt THAT kind of trip again solo! I try to the view the world as one amazing adventure—a finite journey where none of us are guaranteed another day. It is up to each of us to seize the moment and make it count-- even when our heart is broken and held loosely together with priority mail tape. I have learned a lot of life lessons during the past eight months of the deployment, but one of the most important is that life waits for no one-- the clock ticks at the same speed regardless if it is hanging in San Antonio or Baghdad. And that is precisely why I promised myself that I would continue to live—not just exist—during the 12 month deployment. I plum refuse to turn into one of the walking un-dead who simply goes through the motions of life without ever feeling pain or joy. There is absolutely no way that I plan to morph into a Stepford version of an Army-Wife-Zombie who flashes the thousand watt smile to all the rookie spouses and proclaims, “Chin up! It could always be worse!” Deployments sucks and separation can hurt so intensely that you forget to breathe. But I know, that at the end of the 12 months, I will still be standing strong. A battered, weary, and emotionally drained woman—but one who has the fortitude to hold her ground.
Thankfully, I have managed to safely evade the zombie transformation— and I finally got some reassurance that my kiddos hadn’t morphed into one of the ‘going-through-motions-undead’ yet either. Just the other night I had posted a photo on facebook showing my youngest daughter, Anna, reaching up to pet a horse (who had to be at least 18 hands high). Anna is a lot like me—bouncy, sarcastic, and probably more fearless then any 5 yr old rightly should be—and when the photo was snapped, she was begging me to let her ride him. I have to admit, I was a little taken back because in the stall next door there was a beautiful tiny pony—it’s mane braided and it’s coat all glossy and clean—but for some reason this real-life-version of My Little Pony didn’t even register on her radar. She saw the giant animal, with the legs longer then her entire body, and her eyes lit up with the possibilities of adventure. I could see it in her eyes, Anna was craving the journey; she wanted to climb on the back of that ridiculously overgrown animal and ride like the wind. For the first time in a long while, I felt at peace. My little angel was still the same free-spirited, curious, daring adventurer as eight pre-deployment months ago.
After I came home that evening (and showered the ten pounds of horse and human sweat off my body), I sat down on my bed and made a bucket list of some ‘realistic goals’—things that I could accomplish and reach—even as an Army mom and wife. I promised myself that I would run the Paris Marathon, and go on a cattle roundup in Montana. I want to take my kids swimming with dolphins, and hold their hands through an AIDS hospice when the time came to teach them about the consequences and fragility of life. I want my daughters to realize that beauty on the inside is infinitely more important then what’s on the outside—but confidence and good looks sometimes open the door to opportunities first. And I want my son to learn that true strength of character has nothing to do with biceps.
So, I promised myself that THIS summer—my second consecutive summer away from my husband—will be one of amazing journeys. Summer camps, weekends at the beach with the kids, a marathon in Seattle with friends, and an all girls weekend to Miami for the ‘pretend wedding’ of the century. I promised myself that THIS summer would be a season of growing—with more laughter then tears and more sunshine then rain. I will walk with my chin up, smile from my soul, and learn to answer, ‘Hell Yeah!’ a whole lot more frequently then plain old ‘No.’ I promised myself that THIS summer I would live a life of passion and purpose, and slaughter any attempt of ever becoming an Army-wife-zombie. After all, I now know the ultimate secret : How do you kill a zombie? The answer is unbelievably simple: By teaching it to live again.
No comments:
Post a Comment