It has been so long, I don’t even know where to start anymore. I really need to get on here more often and write. It is so therapeutic, and it helps me process so much. Somehow life keeps getting in the way. I used to blog almost daily. In fact, I met some of my best friends that way. Before that, I journaled every sing day. Somehow I just don’t anymore. Don’t find the time. Don’t write. Don’t make it a priority. And I really should.
I’m moving again. I guess it is to be expected since my husband is a soldier, but sadly, once again, he isn’t coming.
What started out as a fight, with me wanting to
escape run away again, lead to a two-month journey of self-discovery. Somehow, in my journey of life, I keep losing myself along the way. My husband and I do not have a great marriage. We get along like spaghetti and peanut butter cats and squirrels. But we are committed to each other, and to making it work. Marriage isn’t easy and takes a lot of work. Work that is difficult in any circumstances. But throw in the military, and only seeing each other once in a two year period, that would be difficult for the best of marriages.
Back to the fight, I decided I was leaving. I didn’t know what I wanted with my life. So I packed my girls and I up in the truck, along with our three cats, and we hit the road. No destination in mind, I just knew I had to go. I needed to get lost in order to find myself. As was to be expected, everyone thought I was crazy, and worried for my safety. But I assured them I would be fine. I know how to survive in the middle of nowhere, and not having the internet, or even cell phone reception doesn’t bother me in the least bit. Heck, the girls and I spent 3 months with no internet in the back woods of Oregon this last winter. And reception only came out with the sun. It was marvelous.
Anyways, I assured everyone I was fine. I know how to keep camp to not encourage animal friends to visit, but being that I was in their territory, and
I’m not as in control as I like to convince myself life is unpredictable, I also packed my Winchester 30-30.
We went, and eventually, the miles on the road lead me back home. Actually, it is not my home at all. I have no family there. It is my husband’s home. The home that he has rejected, like he does with anything that ever gets too close. He casts it aside. I, on the other hand, found my heart attached to this mountainless, oceanless, barren, God-forsaken state. Somehow, against all odds, I found social and spiritual stability. And I didn’t realize it.
I left last November to resume my nomadic pattern. I loved Oregon and the solitude that God’s creation had to offer. I meditated and reveled in it. Then I joined my husband when he returned stateside. Only to realize that something was
missing not quite right. I had my husband. I had my home. But he wasn’t digging the 290 square foot residence on wheels. He had a hard time adjusting, and things only got worse for us. Then I hit the road. I didn’t even take my house with me, I just packed a bag and sleeping mat, and we hit the road.
When I found myself home, it was the first time I ever realized that it had become home. Leaving wasn’t enough to make me realize what I had, I had to return. And while it is depressing that corn fields and soybeans had become “home,” it was a relieving feeling. I’ve never had a home before. I have wandered all my life, looking for the next adventure. Boredom setting in as quickly as the changing of the seasons. No roots to keep me tied down, or grounded.
So what started as a fight, that made me want to run away again, opened up the opportunity for real conversation with Hubby about what I need. For so long it has been about supporting him, or what the girls need. But I have needs too. Needs that go unmet by a husband that is always being called away to
bullshit and chaos duty and honor.
For three years my youngest begged me to return to this state. Every night she would beg me to go back. And now, the army moves us just an hour from where we were, and she wants to go back “home.” It is become home for my girls too. They have best friends, and a religious network, and their grandparents. All things that I never had growing up in the military, bouncing from one adventure to the next. I have friends too. My best friend from college just happens to live an hour north. And I realized, that what I thought were passing acquaintances, had become true and deep friendships. And I almost missed it. I almost missed it all.
So Jordan and I talked, and all this, combined with the fact that I did not fare well at the high altitude and extreme and prolonged winter last year; I am moving home. I think the only way Hubby is wrapping his head around it, is because he watched my health deteriorate last winter. He had been gone for 3 years, only seeing me a handful of times, and he didn’t realize how fragile my health had become. This last winter the cold set off the beginning of partial seizures. Along with mobility issues due to Lyme complications that he had never seen before. It is hard, and though our issues are nothing we can’t work through, I need to go home. Being apart again is going to be hard, but knowing I have stability at the other end of the move makes my confidence that everything will be okay skyrocket.
He hasn’t decided to stay or leave the army. We keep waffling. On the one hand, he is having a hard time finding a job that would maintain our current standard of living. We would be able to survive no problem. But I have grown quite comfortable putting money away for my kids’ college education and such. But if he stays in the army, he misses his kids growing up. It seems like that would be a no brainer, but honestly, walking away from a stable job right now is the dumbest thing I can think of anyone doing. In the current economy, I know too many people who are poor or even homeless. Heck, my brother and his wife, and kids are currently homeless. How do you justify making a choice to live in poverty willingly? On the other hand; kids and their dad, how do you let that relationship go stale. We seem
to be at an impasse have a lose-lose choice to make. Choice one: leave kids without their father, who loves them dearly. Or, choice two: They get their dad, but he gets to watch them grow up in a life with less than he wants to give them. It is a hard call to make. He doesn’t want them to grow up without a father. He doesn’t want to miss their life. But he also wants to give them the world, or at the very least, a college education.
Either way, the girls and I go home, and he will visit as often as possible. Last time we were in a similar situation, it averaged out to about every 3 months. It is rough, but either way, I know we will face whatever challenge we chose to make.
And those of you east, Watch Out! because we are coming home!