When War Comes Home

          The beginning of this week and end of the weekend has been long and somber in our house. Yesterday, another veteran was lost. Jason knew him.. Not well, but enough to be effected. When he first saw the news via Facebook, he was silent. After asking him if he was alright, he looked at me and said, "I wish I could have been there." I have a feeling this is what most veterans were thinking when they heard of this tragic loss.

          Our prayers and thoughts are with Artem Lazukin's family and close friends as they mourn his death and celebrate his heroic life. I cannot even begin to imagine what they must be going through. Although I did not know Artem, I do know that 22 veterans commit suicide every day. And that is just a number put out there by the VA who doesn't want to admit that only 40% of the nation is represented from that number. Only 21 of our 50 states of America are reported in that statistic. That number is so much more than a statistic.. It is the death of our nation's heroes who haven't been able to transition from the battlefield to home.

The man who makes me so proud and thankful every day!

          These brave men and women so often go to the worst parts of the world and fight our battles at young ages. For example, Jason joined the Marine Corps at 17, and was injured after just turning 19. They come home after however long with more experience than most of us have ever or will ever have in our lifetime. Then, they're expected to shove all of what they have seen, done, and been through to the back of their mind in order to become a civilian again. Civilians don't want to hear the reality of what freedom demands, and most veterans don't want to share it. Most active and former military members who have experienced combat are extremely secretive about their experiences in Iraq, Afghanistan, or wherever else they served. One of the worst things someone could do would be to ask them about some of the things they've been through.

          Jason has told me that part of the extreme importance of staying in touch with former battle buddies is that they don't need to talk about one another's experiences.. They automatically know who had what job, what that job entailed, and what it's like there and here. They know the buttons to steer clear of, and the right things to say. They know when to joke about something, and when to shut up and pay respect. In our 2 years together, Jason has shared MAYBE three stories from being in Afghanistan with me.. and I'm not sure if they would even count as stories. Each one was more like three sentences completely out of the blue.. I mean, like I would be putting on my makeup and he would be in the shower. The few times I've heard a glimpse of the heart-wrenching moments my husband remembers, I stop in my tracks, and I think about it for months. I think that's why these guys keep that stuff to themselves.. They know we may not be able to handle it in a healthy way. If I ask questions, there are never answers, and I can honestly say I'm thankful for that because I believe my husband is guarding my innocence. He and other veterans need wives who's hearts are still soft, and who are completely removed and different from the wars they fought in.

          Most days, it's my blessing and job to be there to cheer Jason up when he is feeling down. I like to think of myself as his personal cheerleader, and he definitely returns the favor by being my rock. Yet, there have been days/nights when I knew I couldn't come even close to reaching the level of understanding that he needed. There are instances when he faces what seems like endless mountains of thoughts about what was and what can no longer be.. There have been times when he has fallen so far down a dark pit that I know nothing of.. I don't know the path to come save him in those moments, and I don't know the words to say to speak to his brokenness. THAT is why veterans need veterans. Those moments are why veterans need each other. No matter who else is surrounding and loving them, nothing will ever compare to the understanding they rely on from each other. When Jason has received those scary calls from his brothers over the past few years, he always seems to know when to listen and let them spout out, and when to give advice or make them laugh. Once or twice, I have seen two of his closest 3/5 buddies do the same for him. When he goes to that place (which I'm blessed to say is rarely), I usually call one of the few buddies I know he can really count on and have them talk to him. After a minute or an hour, everything is happy as ever.

           I wish I could thank everyone who has been there, not only for Jason, but for their warrior brothers. I remember some of the scariest moments of my life when Jason and I had only been back together for awhile, and the memories came flooding back to him. At that point, there had been a lot of distance between him and many of his friends. A lot of hurtful, false rumors were spread about me while we began dating. People thought I had bad intentions, and I'm not sure who was more hurt.. me, because I knew I would never be given a chance to prove myself to them, or him, because he felt that they thought he was unworthy of a good woman loving him. Anyway, a lot of buddies he loved distanced themselves from him and instead of getting to know me, they gave up on getting to know him. I'll never fully understand that time of our lives, but I have learned to forgive and realize that they probably had good intentions. They probably felt protective of someone as incredible as Jason, who they were there for during the time I was unable to be. It took awhile for us to establish who was still there for him, who accepted me for who I am, and I watched in pain as I saw him lose touch of others.

Our first house decoration!

            Things have improved significantly for us. Jason has remained extremely close with most of his friends that he served with, and they talk almost daily, even while living all over the country. He's also established new friendships with guys who have lifestyles more similar to ours, and who have chosen to see me for the caring wife that I am. However, during the months of transition, I was terrified. I did not know who would be there for Jason if something were to go down, and I knew enough to know that my love can only go so far when it comes to times when war follows him home. One night, things got really bad. I was terrified for his life, and I was angry that he was alone. I wanted someone who would understand to call him, but I know that how could they know something was even wrong? He's not the kind of guy who would reach out like that on his own. Thankfully, now, he has conquered most of those awful thoughts and has found healthy ways to deal with them. He also has a great group of friends who he can count on and whom can count on him. I also know when it's time to pick up the phone and make the call for him that he doesn't want to make.

            I didn't want to write this blog to talk about Jason, because I know him well enough to know he is not currently in a dangerous place. I wrote this entry to bring awareness to the 22 American heroes who we lose every day. Are we doing everything we can to be there? I feel that the job of civilians in this aspect is to support veterans and ensure that their daily needs are being met, and to give them due respect. Accept them for who they are, instead of trying to mold them into something they lost long ago. Family members have many responsibilities in this as well. I don't feel a need to go into that, because I think most military family members know what needs to be done in their households very well. Lastly, and most importantly, I want to emphasize how much veterans need veterans. Again, no need to give them advice, because I've seen that they've got it down better than anyone. I hope I was able to shine some light into the battles that combat service members bring home, and why it is so important that we all do our part in remembering the 22... before the end of the day.

          I know that most of you do a wonderful job of that, so please know this is in no way me saying anyone isn't! If nothing else, this is just me processing.. thinking of how I can help. Trying to think of how we can get ahead of these tragic losses. Thinking of the millions affected.. trying to find God's will in all these sorrows...

          God bless each and every one of you. Have a blessed April!

To Be Alive

       

Skiing at Vail Veteran Program

          Today is my birthday, and I can't think of anything that I could possibly want or need. This has been a year full of dreams coming true, new adventures, and accomplishments. Every week my blessings list has grown substantially, and last week at Vail Veterans Program was no exception. Jason and I spent the week skiing (he kicked my a**), and connecting with veterans and caregivers. VVP is such a refreshing trip, and it is truly a blessing to have so many people gather around and help Jason, which enables me to be his WIFE instead of his caregiver. I could not be more grateful for everyone who helps put the program together! Jason and I are honored to be ambassadors and so excited to help the program!

Butterfly Kisses Dance with Dad (I was 8?)

          Today, I've decided to do something I've been afraid to do for a long time. I'm going to share my story of how I got to where I am today.. What better way to celebrate my birthday than to conquer a fear and appreciate life? I've been wanting to get brave enough to share for awhile now, but it's been a challenge because:

a) I don't know everyone who will read this 

b) Some people will think it's stupid 

3) It's hard to be vulnerable. 

          One of my wounded warrior wife friends wrote an empowering blog the other day that finally helped me build the courage to share my own story! 

You can check her's out here ----> http://turbulentsunshine.com/2015/03/08/123-go/ 

          I'm not sure where to start, so I'll start at the beginning. I was born in Colorado, to a family of 5 including me. I have two younger brothers (who are the best), and two loving parents. My childhood was full of fun.. I was homeschooled, and occasionally, my mom would let my brothers and I catch bugs and such for "science class." I spent half the time on dirt hills with the boys, and the other half dressed as a princess playing with my 18 dolls (each of which had names). 

8th grade: J+R=4evr

          Skip to middle school... 7th grade was my first year out of homeschool, and I went to a charter academy, complete with uniform. I had a rough time transitioning, mainly because I didn't fit in with the other kids. Academically, I was doing great, but I couldn't keep up with the other things the other kids had learned so much earlier. I was very naive, had no idea what weed was, and had never dated... I didn't even know about shaving until one time when all the girls were lined up during PE and I noticed my legs were the ONLY ones with hair!! *still dying inside* Anyway, I had friends, I tried to be nice to everyone, but it was pretty lonely until the next year. In 8th grade, I went to a classical academy, where I met Jason. I'll share our full story in detail another time, but we began as "best buddies" and eventually he ended up being my first boyfriend and love. I was still naive; I wouldn't even hold his hand or hug, but he meant the world to me. My parents were really strict, and they decided to homeschool me the next year. This was before Myspace or Facebook, so I was broken-hearted when I lost touch with Jason after that. 

          In 10th grade, I once again transitioned out of being homeschooled, and attended a public school for the first time. It was similar to my 7th grade experience, but worse. I had no friends, and spent a few lunches Mean Girls style... eating alone in the bathroom. The girls didn't talk to me, and the guys aimed spit-balls down my lack of cleavage. It was awful, so I transferred to a school closer to me. I ended up actually staying this time. Looking back, I can't say high school was the best either. I had a few friends, but again, never really fit in. I was in a pretty rich area, and I was definitely not one of the rich kids. The cool girls at my high school sported Juicy Couture and Pink, etc. on the reg, and the best I ever did was wear Hollister from Plato's Closet. Regardless of my lack of popularity, I always seemed to have a boyfriend. My first high school boyfriend was a "punk-rocker," who ended up being pretty much a 100% jerk. I began getting into drinking a lot with one of my boyfriends, who was older than me. He was Prom King two years in a row, and made me feel noticed and special. He is actually a great guy to this day, so I don't blame anything on him, but that's when I started getting more wild than I should have. We and his friends used to go get trashed at his house or by the lake every weekend, and I usually ended up blacking out and not remembering most of every night I partied. I would tell my parents I was at a girlfriends house for the night, and come home hungover and exhausted in the morning. 

          For a long time, my life was a never-ending string of heartbreaks and rebounds. The next guy I dated was the star football player of my high school. He was sweet, innocent, and I fell head over heels.. fast. We had a cute relationship during most of high school, and I think we both bonded a lot over not really fitting in with many of the other kids. By senior year, it was just he and I; I lost touch with the few friends I had, and spent almost every free minute with him. We'll call him "C."

The college clique :P

          Things were light-hearted and happy, and we got serious senior year. We planned out our future together: college, marriage, kids, yada-yada. C got recruited for football, and convinced me to go to the university he got a scholarship to with him. College was terrifying! I remember moving into the dorms and just knowing my whole life was about to get flipped up-side-down. I was right. The next month, before I had a chance to make any friends at college, C dumped me. My heart was broken, I was alone, and I went into a serious depression. My grades dropped, and I cried constantly. I made a few friends who would take me out to get drunk at least a few times a week, which was my only distraction from the sadness that seemed to completely surround me. 

          A month or two later, C came back into the picture. He wanted me back, I needed him back. From that point on, our relationship was a roller-coaster of instability and brokenness. We broke up at least once a week for almost two years; sometimes for five minutes, sometimes for five days. My grades continued to drop, and I continued to drink. A lot. My friends and I went out a few times a week. We would walk in heels and skimpy dresses to house parties, or the club a few miles away. I usually didn't remember walking home. It was my first time having an actual group I belonged to, and I finally felt like I really fit in. I was a mess, but I wasn't alone.. or at least not in public. 

          The downward spiral got worse when C told me about his experiences during our first big break up that I hadn't known about. We fought constantly, and our relationship became abusive in just about every way. We would swear at each other, give each other the silent treatment, and talk to other people on and off. It was a classic abusive, unhealthy relationship of codependency. We would get into blow-up arguments, and then he would pin me down to the bed, leaving bruises on my wrists. He never sexually abused me, but I was still broken by the pattern. One time he left me at a party while I was extremely intoxicated and I was taken advantage of. He would hold me up against walls, leaving bruises even on my neck, only to check them in the morning and make sure I covered it up with enough makeup before letting me leave to go to class. He would throw my stuff and break it, and even kick my 3 lb dog. One night when we were arguing about who-knows-what, he held me down and wouldn't let me leave his house. When I finally got free, he pushed me back and blocked the door. I yelled for him to let me out and called him names, then he filled up a gallon milk jug with water, grabbed my hair, and dumped it on my head. Crying and shaking, I locked myself in the bathroom, terrified. He was shouting at me from the other side of the door, telling me to unlock. I climbed out of the tiny window, and ran like hell through the city in the middle of the night, and ended up completely breaking down right behind a bowling alley. 

          I don't need to explain the rest for anyone to know what happened next, and how long it took for us to finally break up. To this day, I will always credit God with that break up, because I don't remember how it happened, and I know that it was his powerful hand pulling me out of the depths that I was too weak to pull myself out of. 

          I then moved to Kansas, where I hoped to find a fresh start. I lived with some relatives, who generously hosted me under their wings until I had enough money saved up to get my own place. You can imagine how things went after I got an apartment. I was working three part-time jobs, and trying to go to school still. I had a knack for finding trouble, and I thought I was pretty much invincible. There was plenty of booze and poor decisions. The partying started affecting not only my school AGAIN, but also my personal life and my job performance. I was hung-over at least half of the week, and exhausted during the other half. I got fired from one job after another, and started going broke. 

          I took out an extra student loan, knowing that I was going to fail the semester, just to pay for my rent for a couple months, but it wasn't enough. Without a job, and only about $50 saved, I was screwed. I spent most of it on gas, but eventually, I had to make excuses to make my friends pick me up to go out. One of the most mortifying moments of my life is when I had to tell my friends not to come inside because my roommate was sleeping (I didn't have a roommate), when actually, my lights were out. 

          That's when K came into my life. He was even more of a mess than me and he was also great at hiding it. I was desperate, and he bailed me out by paying for the part of rent I needed. I didn't realize that meant he planned on moving in. Gradually, he moved in without me really even noticing. I found out he had three kids (he was only 19), and later, I found out he was not only a drug-dealer, but also a thief, a fighter, a vandalizer, a felon, and a fugitive hiding at my house. 

          I won't go through the details, because this is getting long, but I finally hit rock bottom. I was broke, so I didn't really have a choice but to move back to Colorado. Once home, I began to very slowly straighten up a bit. I stopped dating, and cut back a little on the drinking. I was so far behind in finances and even "sobriety" that I was in major debt, and couldn't seem to catch up. I felt like an absolute failure... I was ashamed of myself, but I no longer blamed anyone else, and that was the first step to improvement. 

          During that time, I had finally realized that I needed a break from school, and worked up to a manager position at Victoria's Secret that occupied a lot of time. It got me to focus, and have at least something I was proud of myself for. I still had a long way to go, but I prayed constantly for God to show me the way. I had always had a strong relationship with him, and he had saved me over and over, but this time, I wanted him to help me save myself. I didn't want to come up out of the water for a breath, only to plunge back down. 

          God answered my prayers, just as He always answers our prayers. I don't even remember what made me think of it, but I decided I wanted to join the Navy. The recruiters were awesome, and encouraging. I placed really high on my ASVAB, and they wanted me to become a linguist. The plan was for me to first learn Mandarin, then Russian. The next day, I was shocked when my back x-ray came back as too arched. The recruiters promised they would get someone else to x-ray it the next week. That bought me time, that I now know God wanted to use. 

          BOOM... Jason came into my life. I will never forget hanging up the phone after our first phone call in eight years, and just knowing my entire life was about to change. I didn't know we were going to get married, but my entire mentality changed in every day from that moment on. I truly give all the glory to God, because He completely worked everything out after sending me Jason as my angel. I was truly saved forever this time, and I know in my heart that I will never be lost the same way I used to be again. I know it's hard to believe, but the change came easy. I think Jason just motivated me on a whole new level to be a better person and I wanted to be someone he would be proud of, whether we ended up together or not.

Fishin' & kissin' (VVP, Summer 2013)

          Sure enough, as you know, we did end up together. There is not one day that I am alive and healthy that I don't thank God for sending Jason as my compass to help keep me on track. Jason never forced me to make any changes, but he never needed to. The way he lived his life to the fullest and pushed past his limitations completely washed away my excuses. I finally began to see myself as valuable; not just to him, but to myself and to God. I pressed into my relationship with the Lord more. I completely stopped drinking excessively. Jason is a finance guy, so he helped me make a financial plan that made it possible for me to pay off my debt, and start actually saving. I went back to college, and have been earning good grades. I began working out and enjoying activities, which still give me a natural high on life. 

My beautiful family! (minus baby Beau)

           I felt the need to write my crazy story, because today is important. It is the second year of my life that I have felt truly complete. That doesn't mean I don't have things I want to improve, but it means my heart is full, and it's in the right place. God has given me direction, and Jason has helped me find purpose. I'm finally someone that I am proud of when I look in the mirror. I'm a work-in-progress, and I'm still learning things that I missed out on like trusting people and not being afraid to be myself.. I think this blog is a huge step! Everything I have been through has been worth it. I guess the point is, I found my way, and you can find yours too if you lean on God, and choose to make a change. 

           The broken person I used to be has been replaced with the person I want to be. A couple years ago, sitting in the dark at my apartment, I never would have guessed that now I would be sitting on my couch, looking out at the lake, married to my hero, mommy to 2 giant fur babies, in a beautiful home, surrounded by people I deeply care about. Thank you to every one of you who have been there along the journey; I'm so glad it's nowhere near over!! :) 

Beautiful Vail Valley slopes

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, 

"plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Jeremiah 29:11