Lonely Sundays

Sundays were always a special day in my family. My mom, dad, brother, and I usually went to church first thing in the morning, and then came home to enjoy a homemade breakfast together. My dad always made breakfast on the weekends...on any given day we could choose from an egg scramble, waffles, pancakes, or French toast. They were all wonderfully good.

After breakfast, my mom usually read the newspaper and began the household to-do list, while my dad and brother ventured to the garage to work on their latest project, or just to tinker around. During the summer months, my dad spent hours working in the yard. I liked to help out by mowing the grass on the riding mower. In my twelve-year-old mind I imagined I was driving a real car on a real street and sang along to whatever song was stuck in my head that day. When I wasn’t mowing, I would spend time in the house with my mom with no real purpose…sometimes I’d help with chores and other times I’d simply find something to pass the time. There would be music on in the background and, whether they were the latest radio hits or Jim Brickman CDs, they were songs that slowly shaped my memories of those relaxing Sunday afternoons. And nearly every Sunday, I’d count the hours until it was time to go to grandma’s house for dinner.

Since becoming a military wife, Sundays have changed dramatically. When I first got married, it was difficult to accept that we would just be staying home on Sunday evenings. There was no one to visit for dinner and no one to entertain at our place. Slowly but surely, I got used to the new, much quieter Sundays and have come to enjoy the simple family time my husband and I have with our own kids.

But as military life goes, my husband is not always home on Sundays. In fact, in his current position he often leaves for trips on Sunday mornings. Over the course of three deployments, multiple training courses, and a billet that takes him on shorter but more frequent trips, Sundays often end up just me and the kids. I’ve tried to take them to church myself, but that doesn’t work out too well and I end up feeling frustrated rather than closer to God.  Many times I make a nice breakfast, but I usually can’t get anyone to sit down for longer than it takes to eat one bite and the idea of a family breakfast goes out the window. I try to think of fun things to do to enjoy the weekend, but those things usually only pass an hour or so. Sometimes I try to see if friends could come over for a visit, but they are usually busy with their own families. I get a creative itch to try a new recipe for dinner, but when I remember I am cooking for two kids as opposed to adults, I realize that the effort would probably cause more frustration than joy. And after a day’s worth of kid speak and mediating sibling rivalry, I wish I had someone with whom I could enjoy a glass of wine and some adult conversation.

It is on those days that I long for the old Sundays when I had somewhere to go and people to see. It is those days when I feel a loneliness inside that makes me wish we lived closer to family. It is those days when I realize that out of all the things I’ve adjusted to in military life, the lonely Sundays are one thing I will never get used to. 

Songs of the Seasons

It’s amazing to me how much music can evoke emotion within us.  There is something magical floating amidst the words and melodies that tugs on our heartstrings.  Sometimes the feelings are happy, sometimes they are sad, and sometimes they are simply reminiscent.  We come to form associations between certain songs and a particular person, place, or time in our lives.  Over time, these songs become part of us, part of the stories that shape our lives, and part of the memories we hold closest to our hearts.

I was very young when I realized the power of music on my emotions.  I still remember some of the songs I would hear on the radio as I sat in the back seat of the car looking out the window at the busy freeway on the way to grandma’s house.  That was in the mid-80s.  A few years later when our new house was being built, the popular songs of the time would be blasting from the workers’ radios while my family and I walked through the framework of what would soon be our home.  When I hear those songs today, I can feel the heat of that summer on my skin and almost smell the sawdust and freshly laid cement in our new basement.  I was only six years old.

The songs of the nineties represent many different seasons of my life. Some songs take me back to the early nineties when my brother and I would roller-skate in our basement with rock-songs playing on the radio.  Others remind me of school and summer vacations, friends and crushes.  Still others make me think about the Saturdays my mom and I would go shopping together or when my brother got his driver’s license and I’d ride with him learning the sounds of groups such as Boston, Pearl Jam, Live, Metallica, and weird heavy metal stuff for which I had no affinity.

The beginning of the new millennium was a time when I was big into Country music.  The songs I listened to take me back to my line-dancing days and the hours I spent at the grungy, smoke-filled bar dancing away until the wee hours of the morning.  I am reminded of the first concert I ever attended, where Kenny Chesney opened for Tim McGraw.  A few years later in 2003, I met a man.  He liked me enough to go line dancing with me, and the rest is history.  We both loved country music, and created “our songs” from the Top-20 list that was continually playing on the radio.  I can still feel the rush of excitement from sitting next to this guy I was incredibly smitten with while we drove around singing along to Rascal Flatts or Chris Cagle or George Strait.  But country music wasn’t all we listened to, and it turned out that we both had similar taste in almost all music.  He even got me to branch out and start listening to R&B and rap.  We have had some fun times listening to the crazy things these artists sing about!

In the past few years, music has created more emotion within me than ever before.  When Randall is deployed I find that certain songs speak to me, helping me to get by just a little bit longer.  I have been inspired to keep pushing forward and to think about the things which are good rather than the negatives.  Every so often, Randall will tell me of a song that reminds him of me and every time I hear it, it comforts me to know how he feels.  Certain songs remind me of the good times we have made together as a family and how much we have grown over the years. 

Right now, as we are adjusting to our new home, I am struggling to feel settled.  Everything is new and it has been hard for me to feel like I belong.  After living in North Carolina for so long, I had become part of the community.  I was known not only among fellow military families but in the civilian community as well.  The cashiers at the stores knew my face, some even knew my name.  I was known as Keira and Clay’s mom at their school.  I had made friends all around my neighborhood and beyond.  As much as Randall was deployed, I learned how the people and places in the area worked, figured out where places were, and learned short cuts in getting there.  Now, I am starting all over again.  The music I play to calm my mind only teases me, reminding me of all of those things I am missing.  The memories make me smile, but the desire to return to those times, to return to the place where those memories were created, dampens my spirits.  I keep reminding myself to have patience, that it has only been a few weeks.  One thing I have learned being a military wife is that transitions take time.  Eventually, I hope, there will be songs that remind me of this place when I hear them.  I hope to be reminded of the fun times we have created here and to see this season of my life as yet another one filled with great memories. 

A Case of Identity Crisis

Has anyone ever felt like the person you once were, the person you knew yourself to be, has gotten off the train somewhere in the past and has been replaced by a stranger?  Or maybe your self wasn't replaced at all but left an empty space which yearns for the passion and sense of direction that once filled it.  I am not sure when exactly my person got off the train, but I do know that it was somewhere in the midst of motherhood and being a military wife.  Motherhood itself, I'm sure, would have been enough to send the self's bags packing.  But military life has made it exceptionally difficult to hold tight to that person, that self, who grew up with me, who created the inner workings of my soul, and who, I know, is waiting somewhere to get back on the train.

First, let me tell you a little bit about how I grew up.  Nearly my entire family lived in northeast Ohio, in the eastern suburbs of Cleveland.  We saw my mom's family just about every week, as we all gathered at my grandma and papa's house for dinneron Sundays.  No matter how many times I went to their house, I never got sick of it.  There was so much love pouring out of the doors that anyone would be sorry to pass up an opportunity to enter.  We also saw my dad's family every few months, so it is plain to see that spending time with family was something I grew to cherish.  Not only that, my beliefs and values developed as a result of such a strong family bond and also the wisdom that my grandparents shared from their own lives.  Every form of guidance they gave me, always in a loving, gentle manner, clinged to me like glue.  I listened to their stories, watched their actions, and became determined that I would follow in their footsteps.  I had aspirations for myself to have a successful career at some point, but I also knew that part of my purpose, my passion, was to be just like grandma.  She was a stay-home-mom who cooked, cleaned, canned the vegetables from the garden, raised the kids, and entertained her family and friends in her home, all with the grace of an angel.  I knew this was considered old-fashioned in a world where women were gaining more power in the workplace, but I didn't care. I wanted to be that wife who gladly provided home cooked meals for her family, kept a clean house, and raised her kids with joy. I wanted to share my home with family and friends as often as possible.  In fact, when Randall and I were engaged, I made all sorts of plans in my head about the parties we would host at our house. 

Fast forward to now.  I am a stay-home-mom. I cook healthfully, clean, and take care of the kids most of the day.  This is the dream I had always envisioned but I never expected it to be so difficult.  I have always loved kids but despite my years of babysitting, I never knew that kids are just plain bad around their parents!  The lack of listening, the fighting amongst each other, and the whining and crying makes my blood boil!  I still like to clean, but find it increasingly difficult to complete all the chores that need to be done and get stressed when the house starts to get messy.  The few times that we have entertained a party over the years have made me realize that it can be more stressful than relaxing so we rarely do it.  Not that I don't want to spend time with friends, but I have developed into a perfectionist and find it hard to have a get-together on a whim, while planning ahead is difficult with kids.  In addition, military life has moved us away from any family so I miss out on the shared time and occasions I so loved growing up. I still love to socialize, but with the stresses of motherhood and military life bogging me down, my personality has reverted to an almost shy-like state around new people.  Sometimes I find myself thinking, "Why is this so hard?  I always wanted to be a stay-home-mom, so why am I so challenged by this lifestyle?  Where is the drive I used to have for creating a home in which people knew they were welcome?"  I have always prided myself on being a positive person in a world of pessimists, but the past few years have created a real challenge for keeping a positive frame of mind.  And that grace that my grandmother had?  That is nowhere in sight in this girl!

Don't get me wrong, I do not regret staying home with my children for one second.  Nor do I regret becoming a military wife.  Both have strengthened me in more ways than I ever fathomed and it brings me so much joy to watch my kids grow.  But I would be lying if I said I didn't wonder what else is out there for me.  What if this is all I ever do?  Whatever if noone else ever gets to know the real me?  I still have dreams for a career, and I have the education to get me there, but now days it is not necessarily education but experience that lands you the jobs.  I want to put myself out there and be somebody other than just mommy, or Randall's wife.  It doesn't help that we must move every few years and that most big Marine bases are not prime areas for careers in my field.  When I worked before kids, I received recognition and praise for my work, whereas now the things I do in the home aren't reviewed by anyone other than my family and there are no raises or promotions.  Furthermore, it is difficult to make myself known as somebody outside the home when I am struggling to keep up with the pace of home life. Unable to see what lies in the future, I find myself fearing that I will never be able to find my niche, the place where everything in my life fits perfectly in place with the dreams I desire.

Perhaps this is my purpose for now and I just need to learn to accept it and grasp it.  Despite my frustrations and struggles, I realize that I am extremely blessed and couldn't be more thankful for what has been provided for me.  I keep reminding myself that although it can feel uneasy and challenging, God has a plan for me and it may not be what I have planned.  For now, I am trying my best to stick to my roots, hold true to my values and beliefs, and maintain a positive attitude as much as possible.  If I can stay on track, hopefully the Me I have always known will jump back on the train and people will begin to know the real me.  As Helen Keller puts it, "Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood." 

How have you struggled with a loss of identy?  What have you done/are you doing to cope?  I want to hear your stories!     

Is this a Dream?

Does anyone else ever feel like you are living in a dream?  Have you ever felt like your life is a blur and you aren’t really sure how you got from one point to the next?  This is how the last few months have been for me.  It all started after Randall got home from deployment.  I felt as though the past eight months hadn’t happened at all, but were just a figment of my imagination.  I was in disbelief that we had actually made it through what I had once thought would never end.  As the weeks passed with Randall home again, the feeling that I was dreaming didn’t go away.  Everything seemed real and normal throughout the day, but each night I would lie awake feeling like everything that happened during the day was surreal.  We planned fun family activities during post-deployment leave, but they passed so quickly that I didn’t have a chance to realize they were happening.  Thank goodness I had proof from the pictures!  Needless to say, this dream-like state has continued to linger for nearly four months.

Is this possibly one of the stages of post-deployment?  Is it a result of the business of life with kids?  Or is it, perhaps, a natural feeling that occurs from the ever increasing pace of time as each year passes? Most importantly, how can I prevent the feeling that I am just living in a dream and at any moment I will wake up and see that none of this has really happened at all?