Helping others

I really believe in the old adage that it is better to give than to receive. I give because I selfishly love the feeling I get from doing something for someone. Even when they don't know it was me. In fact I prefer to remain anonymous whenever possible. Sometimes I can't. It is easier to drop off meals without giving a name than inviting 'strangers' into your home and still remain nameless.

We do this often too. Invite people in. Not just for a meal but to give them a place to stay instead of a motel in between PCSing or whatever reason they got stuck in one. Sometimes it works out very well. Sometimes the people pitch in and help. We don't charge them rent. We simply ask for help with buying groceries and that they do their share of housework. (Which by the way, NEVER involves the kitchen...that's my baby.)

Sometimes the people go above and beyond. I never expect that. But what I hate is that time after time of helping people we get the raw end of the deal. They offer no help for food or around the house. They expect me to be their maid as if they were still paying the $900-1200 a month they were staying in some roach infested motel. I don't get it. I am becoming bitter. I am getting to a point where I no longer want to help people. I don't want to be that person.

I also don't feel that we are extending such a kindness that we are not asking too much from someone. How hard is it to pick up after yourself or grab a dust rag or take out the trash when it's full?

I want to scream 'either you help or go back to paying what you were at the motel.' Don't tell me you're broke on payday when you have NO bills. We are the ones paying for the house, the utilities AND the food. Oh wait, let's throw in chauffeur services too.

Do I need to have something written up to hand people that we are trying to give a hand up to? Should it be outlined? Isn't it common sense that if someone is letting you stay with them for free that you should help in some way so as not to make it hardship on them?

Sigh....

I wish everyone could be like the last family we helped. And they are the reason that I'm sure I will continue to help military families when they need a place to stay.

It makes me wonder if age has anything to do with it. They were older, like us. Seems all the younger ones we've helped have taken advantage of us and wore out their welcome very quickly. Surely that can't be it.

I should add it's not just people we let stay with us. People ask 'little' favors of us. We always help when we can. The last time we helped with a little favor it is costing us over $500 in damage to the house. It might be more, I'm still working on figuring it out.

With the holidays here I don't want to be bitter. I still want to be a giving, helping person. I just don't know how much more is in me.

Overcoming November 5, 2009 - The Fort Hood Shootings

First, I apologize for scattered, meandering thoughts. Poor grammar and general misuse of the English language.
  
In Remembrance: Capt John A Gaffaney, Lt. Col. Juanita L. Warman, Maj. Libardo Caraveo, Capt. Russell Seager, Staff Sgt. Justin Decrow, Sgt. Amy Krueger, Spc. Jason Hunt, Spc. Frederick Greene, Pfc. Aaron Nemelka, Pfc. Michael Pearson, Spc. Kham Xiong, Pvt. Francheska Velez and retired Chief Warrant Officer Michael Cahill and one unborn child.


November 5, 2009. I had just got offline with chatting with my husband. It was his bedtime and time for me to get busy with the day. The phone rang. It was my mother in law. I always look forward to her calls. I cheerfully answered. The first words out of her mouth were, "I just wanted to make sure you are okay." I said yes everything is fine, her son is fine. She said she just saw on the news about the shootings. Things got crazy at that point. My phones were ringing non-stop. The Fort Hood alert system was going off. A mile from the gate and I can hear it over and over again. (BLARING ALARM): ATTENTION: SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. Remain indoors. Lock your doors. Turn off heating/AC. Close your vents. ~ That isn't verbatim, but close. When you hear it and you don't know what is going on it is scary.

The news was reporting three or more gunmen shooting on Fort Hood. The base was under attack. In the beginning we did not know how widespread the attack was. The news was reporting rumors. A shooter at Commanche III, now a shooter at Kouma village (off base just up the road from me.) It was chaos. It was terror.

The news spread faster than fire ever thought of spreading and within minutes my husband was back online issuing orders to me to stay inside and pull the curtains and lock the doors. Cursing that we do not have our gun yet. Swearing that will be resolved. (And it was.)

There were new reports of a shooter being at the main PX, now somewhere else. I kept waiting for a bomb of some sort. Literally or metaphorically. There was such a looming sense of doom. The President is on TV. General Cone is on TV. He said a shooter had been shot and killed and two more were in custody. We still did not know how many there were.

I was fielding calls from a VERY panicked mother that lived in Commance III. There were police everywhere. I kept myself more calm by trying to calm her.

Base was locked down. There was no way in or out. Parents sat at the gates just blocks away from their children in school, not able to get to them.

The death toll kept rising. The background noise is sirens blaring nonstop with emergency personnel.

People were speculating, "Why didn't the soldiers just shoot him?" Soldiers don't carry weapons when they are at home. No more than the average person carries a weapon to their job. On that day our soldiers that protect a nation could offer no protection at home.

My husband online via video cam in Iraq felt helpless and he was. There was nothing he could do to help the soldiers back home or comfort me. For now, just being able to see his face had to be enough. I was angry. Angry that he couldn't be here to comfort me. Angry that while he is overseas fighting terrorism it is happening in his back yard.

Nighttime came. Uncertainty filled the dark house. General Cone gave another press conference. This time bringing some relief and answers. There was one shooter. He was not dead. He had been shot and taken to the hospital.

With help from a friend called Ambien I was able to finally go to sleep that night. The family I had comforted via phone was finally able to leave base and came to spend the night.

The next few days as police raided the shooters apartment and evidence emerged did little to comfort me. He was a Major in the US Army. Trained in our military. A psychiatrist that is SUPPOSED to be there to comfort soldiers and help them. He was a terrorist. I was mad at hell!

I desperately needed to go to the commissary. I didn't feel safe but kept telling myself I cannot let fear win. If I did, the terrorist wins. Going through the gates two days after the shooting everything was so different. There were armed soldiers in full military gear everywhere. They were stationed at the ends of the commissary and at the entrance and exit. I should have found that comforting and in a way I did. I couldn't help but worry. The place I feel the safest (on base) was no longer safe. We had to have armed soldiers standing around protecting us.

No, I did not personally know anyone that lost their life or was injured that day. But then again, I do. There is a strong bond in the military. One I would never have known if my husband didn't choose to reenlist. One I will never forget. One I am thankful for him to be able to let me see. Do I hurt for those killed and injured? More than anyone can fully realize.

It is a year later and I still cringe when I see his picture. One year later I still shake when I go on base. There isn't a single time I don't look over my shoulder when I go in a building to make sure no one has a gun. But I go. Just as I forced myself to attend the memorial service on November 10th. To take a stand against terrorism. I don't make as many shopping trips now. Only out of pure necessity. I can only handle so much stress. I try to explain my fear to some. It's not really understood.

There were so many victims that day. Not just the people injured and killed by gunfire. Many of us have emotional scars that will never go away. We can only look past them and try to soothe them any way we can. I'm sure as years go by the scars will fade more and more but they will never miraculously disappear.

I had to write about it today. I have read so much and watched so many tributes, shedding tears from the time I woke up. No, since I went to bed last night knowing that today was the anniversary. Writing helps to heal as much as shedding tears.

I met a wonderful friend the day of the memorial service. She has been a rock for me. During this sad time we are going to find time to celebrate our friendship. That's what life is right? Overcoming and moving on.

The first is video that I took the day of the memorial service. There is really nothing to see, I wasn't aiming at anything. Close your eyes and listen.



A tribute I found.

Meet my husband.

I go on and on about how I feel. Woe is me, blah blah blah. We all know the feeling. It's time for a pity party and it's all about ME!

That however is not fair to my husband. It's not fair to who he really is and why we are really here.

We were taking a silly quiz the other day. One of the questions was your most admirable trait. For him I immediately knew it was LOYALTY. He has many many admirable traits, but that one stuck out the most.

We would all like to think we're loyal but minds can often be changed. A prospective employer offers us more money, less hours and better benefits. We're very likely to tell our employer of ten years 'see ya later.' I know I have. Not my husband.

My husband was self employed in the years he was out of the Army. He would always sacrifice his own well being to make sure he gives who he is working for his very best. Even if it meant getting paid less or not at all. The same goes for his Country.

He was in the infantry 20 some years ago. Watching the news after 9-11 got to both of us. I would cry and he would get more and more anxious to do something to help. He had 'brothers' there getting injured and killed. Sitting at home watching it was driving him crazy.

My husband feels guilt. I couldn't understand why he should feel guilty and we discussed it last night. He blames himself for putting me in this 'Going it alone' position. I don't know how to alleviate that guilt. Without him reenlisting I would not have known there was this abyss of women that are 'going it alone.' I have a desire to help people and he has given me that opportunity as well as gaining for himself the opportunity to help others.

I want to share with you what he wrote in a Facebook post: "When I decide to be loquacious I can usually find the words I need to express myself. My technique is to babble incessantly knowing that eventually the gist of what I'm trying to say will come across. However there are no words to describe ...the hurt I feel knowing what I've put my dear wife through. The guilt I feel knowing that Robin is suffering and sacrificing so much because of a decision I made is now a part of my daily life. I want to thank, from my heart, everyone helping to ease her burden. If I could give each one of you a hug and a kiss I most certainly would. Thank you. And Robin, I love you."

I can feel the pain in those words he wrote. I want to reassure him I am fine. Even on the days when I complain and things don't go my way. I have never been so proud and so in love with anyone in my entire life. I want him to understand that without him reenlisting I wouldn't have these opportunities I've been presented with. 

I share some of my innermost feelings, not to lash out at him or others, but so that someone else that may be going through something similar doesn't need to feel alone. By reaching out to people I don't feel so alone. There are days, we all have them, when we want or need to feel sorry for ourselves. That's life. It just happens to be the time when I write to get out what I'm feeling inside. It is never meant to make my husband sound like an awful person. 


Thank you honey from the bottom of my heart for being my knight in digitized camo. You are my hero.



Yes, the loneliness is there on days. On the days I choose to let it exist. All I need to do is reach out. Going It Alone is growing slowly. It has helped me feel not so alone and I hope it will help others too.

Getting heard. Great news!

I sat in silence for so long, feeling sorry for myself and feeling so alone in this Army life. Out of frustration I sent off an email to the people at Her War Her Voice. My plea was heard and with it came the Facebook group Going It Alone.

The group is only up to 32 members. But compared to me, and others, feeling like we were the ONLY one I think that number is great. Her War Her Voice featured a blog post that I wrote. I just heard today that what I discussed in the blog will be taken to the Pentagon and talked about there. Here is what it said:

"My husband reenlisted at age 40 after 20 years of being out of the army. At the time we had been married 4 years. It was a very hard decision that he put in my hands and for the first three years of our marriage I flat out said ‘NO! I will not let the Army take you from me!’

 

We are members of our local VFW and one night I was discussing the problem with a former military spouse. She said that if I chose selfishly it could build resentment. That was a great deal to swallow. We were 40 years old!! We are just going to give up a life we have for a life that who knows what happens tomorrow? I knew less than nothing about Army life and also knew that it was all my husband could think about.
Later that night I said ‘OK.’ I think somewhere in my mind I felt they wouldn’t take him because of his age. I was wrong and ready to face my new life when they picked him up at the house to go to MEPS.

What I learned next is that I did not exist while he was in training. I was stuck in some limbo with no one to answer questions about Why? When? Where? Who? Two weeks into training he got a stress fracture. He was in Ft. Sill medical holdover for five months recovering. He would NOT chapter out under any circumstance. I stayed in limbo. I was stuck almost 1,000 miles away because I was not authorized to live with him. After two months I drove myself to Oklahoma, found us a cheap little house and was there with him while he recovered. The Dr’s finally released him and they sent him on to Warrior Transition Course in White Sands, NM. I packed up the few things we had accumulated in those few months and headed north to return to limbo.

Still, no matter where I looked for answers there was nothing for me. Six months into his being gone, I knew nothing and still did not exist because he is in ‘tradoc.’WTC at White Sands lasted only a month and he was on his way to Ft Sam Houston for his medic training. This was five more months of limbo. Daily we watched the ERB to see if we had any idea where we were going to end up. Two months before his training was over he got his orders to Ft. Hood. That’s a long way from home but I didn’t care as long as we were together. I did not exist for an entire year. 

I had tons of questions now about PCS, reimbursements, housing, you name it. There are thousands of questions and the best answer I could get from anyone is ‘you’ll know when it happens.’ And that is how I found everything out, as it happened. I searched online, blogs, websites about PCS, you name it. Everything was at best vague and didn’t answer my deepest questions. I learned that I probably just ask too many questions. My husband was a single soldier when he was in the Army 20 years earlier, he was just as clueless as I was. He also got the strange looks when asking for direction.

I am thrown into a world with a new language, a new way of doing things. A world where pain, suffering and loneliness is an everyday occurrence. There is no basic training for first time wives. There should be. A one week crash course on language, propriety, PCS, deployment, command structure and just what to expect next. Yes, I did take the online AFTB. It helped, but didn’t sink in the way face to face learning sinks in. It also was geared to very young spouses that have never managed a home and had no real life experience.

My first stop at Ft Hood was ACS. I asked them questions about everything from travel to housing. My answer, ‘I don’t know.’ Everything that they did refer to me was geared toward people with children. Guess I was in the wrong place. I also got so many strange looks when I said I know nothing. It was the ‘are you stupid’ looks. I felt like screaming, ‘Yes, I’m over 40 and have gray hair but I’ve NEVER been here before!!!’ I got so tired of people assuming my age meant I had been here for a long time or it was my son who was in the army. 

Housing was another horror we faced. We have had years to establish belongings. Yet we are allowed a two bedroom home. The one they picked for us was in one of the oldest housing areas on base and very small. We felt we deserved more than that and found a house four times larger for the same money off base. I felt discriminated against because we have no dependent children. I felt ashamed even that I couldn’t have a child to be able to get a larger house. Yes, I know on one level it’s based on rank, but sometimes our brains don’t acknowledge those things. Not when it’s something so personal.

 

My husband deployed to Iraq shortly after we got settled in Texas. I try to seek out friends but I feel in limbo here too. The officer’s wives tend to be so busy being an officer’s wife that I don’t exist. The enlisted wives are all 15-20 years younger than me with children. The functions that exist are geared toward people with children. I can’t say there hasn’t been someone to step up and be my friend, and she is an awesome person. We live far enough apart that it puts a dent in having a coffee clutch. And she has something here I don’t. Family. I left my family 1,500 miles away.

 

I try to help as many as I can, to feel like I am doing something. I put on a smile and say, ‘I am doing well. Sorry to hear about you.’ Then there are days that I wait for someone, ANYONE, to pick up their phone and call me and say “just thinking about you.’ I feel forgotten because I am alone. I feel that because I don’t have children, people think that I don’t have problems, or everyday issues. When in fact not having a child to care for makes loneliness even greater, I have no where to refocus other than myself. I do not have a child’s social events to get a chance to meet other people. If I go to an event where there are children I would get asked, ‘which one is yours?’ And if I respond none, I’d get the look again.

 

There are days that can go by that I forget to eat because honestly, why do I want to cook for just myself? Laundry? Well, I guess when I run out of pajamas is when I will decide that it has to be done. Cleaning house? Really? It’s just me, when does it get dirty? (Who cares about the dust building up on everything…I don’t.) I head to the commissary once every payday to buy milk and coffee and a dozen cans of soup. Sometimes, if there is a family in need I’ll make another trip to whip up a meal for them but can’t even fathom the idea of doing that for myself. 

I sit and I wait. I could sew. I could walk on the treadmill. I could do Tai Chi. But if I do, I might miss a message. Besides, who cares if I do any of those things? Yes, I should care about myself, but that got lost when he left for Iraq. It is such a strange phenomenon. I cared the day before he left. What happened in those hours that turned my world around? This is where friends should come into play. But this is the Army.  Friendships are hard to come by and even harder when you have nothing in common with most of the people. At the end of the day most spouses have someone to tuck in at night and say ‘I love you’ to. I just go to bed, alone in an empty house.

 

This is a lonely world. I love my husband dearly and support him every second of the day. It is just my longing that someone, somewhere would create a group just for us older ones that don’t fit into the nice little niche the Army has for enlisted wives. A place that we can go for support and activities and have something more in common than a child."

 

 

What went wrong?

My wonderful husband arrived home from his tour in Iraq three months ago. His block leave was the entire next month. We didn't do anything spectacular. We rested together and enjoyed each other. That included not doing any PT or anything that was physically exerting. I couldn't blame him for just wanting to rest. I'm sure that is all I'd want to do were the roles reversed.

He reported back to his unit on a Monday and was told that same day he had a APFT test the next morning. That was the first he knew anything about it. Yes, it is the soldiers responsibility to maintain their level of fitness. I have to side with the laziness here. He JUST got back from Iraq. I knew the next morning was going to be a difficult one for him.

Within a mile of the run his leg gave way to another stress fracture. He heard it, felt it and had been there before. Determined and in pain he ran the remaining distance. Before he could proceed to see a Doctor he had to go to the office to get 'taped.' He is finally able to get to the TMC and was given a pair of crutches and sent to another clinic for x-rays. That clinic was booked up. We went to another TMC, their machine was broke. Finally the fourth TMC I took him to was able to do his x-rays. A couple of days go by and he returns for the results. Like with his prior stress fracture it doesn't show up on regular x-rays. Now he has to go to the hospital to schedule an MRI. The soonest appointment is a month away.

We are now a week into his leg being hurt and he has yet to see a Doctor. A month passes with him on crutches and in pain. He has the MRI and is told to check with his Doctor in 3-4 days. After the allotted amount of time he goes to his TMC and is then told his provider is no longer there and he would need to make an appointment which is three more weeks away. That time passes and still not being seen by a doctor is sent on for a bone scan and referred to an Orthopedic doctor for surgery on his knee. A month away.

You can bet I am steaming mad at this point. His bone scan is in the morning, at least that isn't another month's wait. He is still on crutches, he is still in pain. When I look at his leg it looks like a 'Z.' His muscles in that leg have atrophied. He will recover in time. He is facing knee surgery from the damage done.

I am sad and disappointed that this has gone on so long. Why on Earth should a soldier be treated with such disregard?

His next deployment is only a couple months away. Yes, that's less than six months home. I don't know what will happen at this point. He has a great deal of recovering to do in two months time. He would be so unhappy getting stuck in Rear D.