Some hero's are under 5'2"

Today I received a disgruntled call from a close friend. Her name is Chaunte, and beside the fact that her awesome factor is off the charts, she is also a female veteran and works super hard to improve the quality of life for female veterans, spouses, and military children. If THAT fact doesn’t convince you of her coolness, consider the fact that she is a crossfit bad ass and is probably the only chic I know to whom I could call and say, “Want to run 10 miles, share a protein shake, and buy some shoes?” and she would drop everything to meet me at the closest park (credit cards in hand). Yes Chaunte is exceedingly fit. Yep, she has over forty pairs of jeans in her closet AND is in a high functioning committed relationship. And most amazingly, she has dedicated her life to working towards a cause that is way bigger than just her immediate life. What can I say…. Chaunte is pretty damn special.

Anyway—back to the story-- Chaunte sent me a text today that very bluntly read, “Need to talk.”, and after my first thought that the boyfriend FINALLY put his foot down about the jeans I replied, “Will call in 15”. You see, I was in the middle of writing a paper for grad school, waiting on a call from work, and had exactly ten minutes to tame the wild curls that were circling my head (I opted not to blowdry today) because I still needed to run to Old Navy to pick up a pair of “mandatory or I am going to fail orchestra” black pants before my daughter’s cello concert (which is tomorrow night…) sometime before her 2:45 orthodontist appointment. So like every good female, I doused my hair in a gallon of curl enhancer, and headed to the car to drive to the store. Chaunte’s call had exactly a ten minute window to go down.

What I didn’t expect though was the exhausted voice on the other end of the phone line mirroring my thoughts so precisely and emphatically, “Aim, there are not enough service to help females. Since when are drugs the best solution for everything” Where is the support? Where do the kids fit in? Why doesn’t anyone else see the problem like we do?”

I listened to her, put my car in park, and kicked off my heels under the steering wheel—this call was suddenly upgraded to a twenty minute slot.

You see, this knowledge is nothing new to Chaunte and I. The military is overwhelmed with war casualties-- the physical and emotional-- and has little time to devote to its female and military family populations. Sure support groups exist within units—BUT you had better act according to your rank, or you will be gossiped, labeled, and thrown under the bus every time you step out of line. And once the spouse returns home, problems should just disappear, right? A second honeymoon! Time to get to know each other again! Hot sex with a virtual stranger! Sure. Right. A second honeymoon with a man that pops Ambien in order to get four hours of sleep, is so strung out from being in a war zone that guns shot sounds from the downstairs TV throw him into a hyper-vigilant panic, and is so completely baffled as to why the hell you are so pissed off at him when he was the one who was away fighting for the past twelve months. Sound familiar? Sound like a second honeymoon to you?

Military families all over this nation are in crisis. Issues such as depression, anxiety, obesity, failed marriages, suicide, and alcohol abuse are on the rise. Female veterans, spouses, and children are crying out saying:
“I have had enough.”
“ I am different then the male soldier.”,
“I need help now.”
“Someone please hear me.”

Thank God people like Chaunte are listening. Thank God people like Chaunte care. There ARE solutions out there. There IS so much more that can be done for military families and female veterans, but someone has to be brave enough to speak up. Stop pretending that deployments are just one happy homecoming. Life is not like the lifetime show Army Wives. It is real. And difficult. And painful. And beautiful. Happiness should never have to be the battle.

(Some military supporters wear camo bootie shorts...)