Tag: military

Lent

Day 19: Stay close to people who feel like sunshine

Alexandra Diane

Stay close to people who feel like sunshine. It’s a saying that has popped up for the last few weeks. I made a cute little poster for my husband to print out for me so I can have it up in my classroom. But the saying warms my heart. It took so long for me to understand that meaning. To value those who value you, encourage you, and don’t do it to put others down, or do it in a passive aggressive way that is for their gain. Unfortunately, as you age, you will meet far too many fake people. People who will pry on your trust and try to manipulate situations. But that doesn’t mean hide from the world or change who you are. It just means to be a bit more skeptical. 

I’ve been burned plenty of times. By people who I thought were lifelong friends, by employers who took advantage of my work ethic or, well, other things. I’ve written about it before, so I don’t feel like rehashing that again. I should have a wall of ice surrounding my heart. And when I was younger, I did. But that’s exhausting. To some, forgiveness may sound weak, but just because I forgive them doesn’t mean I forget. I will let God judge these people when the time comes. But I will not allow them the power over my mind, body, and soul. If the pain lingers, I will use it to my advantage. I work old wounds into my writing. I transform living nightmares into stories where I control the narrative. Just because I lost my power to a situation once does not mean I must stay powerless to it forever. 

That goes the same with learning how to trust people because I am not a trusting person to begin with. So when someone talks to me, I am already listening with a grain of salt. Because of my distrust, I tell my students don’t ever lie to me because once you have lost my trust; it is gone forever. Several of the students I have been teaching for four years now understand that it is better to admit that they forgot or were overwhelmed with sports and other classes, instead of pretending that the computer erased their work. They have warned other classmates to be honest and I will work with them. Those who have lied to me have discovered how much of a stickler I can be. 

It’s not just with my students. If you are a friend or family member and lie to me, I may let you stay in my life, but I will never trust you again. This doesn’t mean the lie has to be over something big, it could be something small and it will put me off. Two incidents occurred last summer that made me develop a distrust for someone who had been interacting with my family. I had given the person a piece of paper and asked them to sign it. They said to give it to their wife, so I did. When I explained he needed to sign it, she laughed, signed the paper saying “he never signs anything, I always have to.” So I gave the paperwork to my husband and explained what happened. When he approached the person, the non-signer straight up looked at my husband and said, “No, no, I signed it.” I was so confused. I didn’t want to fight with that person in front of a bunch of kids, but from that moment on, I couldn’t trust a single word out of his mouth. A few weeks later, my family and a few other baseball families were at a baseball game. My husband stepped away with the baby to grab something, leaving me with the nonsigner and another dad. I watched my daughter run around with friends while listening to the nonsigner talk to the dad. He was telling a story about the 3rd dad that we usually spend time with. Only I had already heard this story from my husband. The nonsigner told the dad that the 3rd dad went to get an oil change but when he returned, he was hammered. Saying his shirt was untucked and his wife was yelling at him on the phone. The dad was highly concerned about the 3rd dad showing up drunk and driving home with his child. 

I still do not understand why the nonsigner had twisted the story. I interrupted him, saying he wasn’t drunk. His shirt was untucked because he had gotten off of work and hadn’t changed out of his office attire. I explained that the oil change place had taken longer than expected and that’s why his wife was annoyed with him because they had plans. 

The nonsigner was quickly changing his story and the dad sitting next to him looked confused on who to believe. When we were leaving, I told my husband what happened. We were both confused why nonsigner would try to destroy the 3rd dad’s reputation. However, we both agreed that we would longer believe whatever nonsigner says, and would go directly to his wife if we needed anything. Some people like to exaggerate and we thought that would be the worst from nonsigner. 

On Veterans’ Day, we were a part of a tournament and since I am in charge of social media, I wanted pictures from all the parents and coaches that are veterans. A few years ago, when Nonsigner met my husband, he said he served in the army as well. Throughout the years, we have asked questions, trying to understand nonsigners behavior. He didn’t act like enlisted personnel or an officer. For about two weeks I kept asking for pictures and received them from a handful of our veterans, however nothing from nonsigner. I thought it was odd, so did my husband. But we didn’t say anything to anyone. It wasn’t our business. Maybe he had a bad experience, maybe his ex wife had them, or they got lost in the fire. Who knew? But it was just strange. It was also strange that every time the veterans would talk about the stupid stuff they did in the branches, he would step away instead of joining in. 

At the end of February every lie nonsigner had told finally caught up with him. I will not go into the mess because it is not my story to tell. However, every single thing my gut told me about this human was correct. The worst part of this for me and my husband was discovering that nonsigner never served in the military. I left horrible. My husband has just as many trust issues as I do. We would never have met nonsigner if I had not pushed my husband into coaching baseball. I was worried that this would damage the relationship my husband was building with other members of the baseball team. But we weren’t totally side blasted by this lair. Numerous signs beforehand left us wondering what the reality was. We had already started to distance ourselves from him because of the red flags and manipulation tactics he used.

As I look around at everyone who has been affected by this person, one thing stands out – they all feel like sunshine. I am glad the damage caused by this person did not harm the hard work my husband has done in healing from his PTSD. I wish there was more we could do for the family of nonsigner because they are innocents caught in this horrible mess. However I hope they know that the sun is waiting for them when they are ready to feel the warmth again. 

Lent

Day 30: What the fuck Government

Alexandra Diane

I can’t word this correctly, so I’ll leave Angry Cop to explain it. 

Video that explains better than I can

But excellent job, government, for going after the men and women you sent to fight your battles. The people you sent to war to do your dirty work because you guys don’t risk anything for your end game. 

Yes, let’s cut our Veterans’ disability benefits to those who are productive members of society. 

Lent, Writing

Day 11: Not all those who wander are lost

Alexandra Diane

Do you believe in fate/destiny?

Writing prompt: Do you believe in fate/destiny?

I started writing this prompt a year ago during lent, and they revisited the prompt today. So I figured I would finish this. 

I’m not entirely sure if I believe in fate and destiny in the sense of predestination, but I think we have the option of different choices and paths to take, and those paths shape us. 

Sometimes when my husband smiles, I see glimpses of the past. He’ll get the same spark in his eyes that he had almost twenty years ago. Something that I thought he lost after the hard road he has traveled to get us to where we are now. 

My husband, Tyler and I met in high school. He was a senior, and I was a freshman. As fate would have it, the school district decided that his four years of JROTC would no longer count as an art elective. Now, in his last year of school, Tyler had to choose between band, art, or drama. He picked drama since he couldn’t draw or play an instrument. 

At the beginning of the year, my drama class was around 16 girls and one boy, Dan Mosley. I think he lasted a week before he had his schedule changed. For a short time, we were an unruly group of girls before a tall, dark stranger was sitting at the desk behind mine. 

Truth be told, I am naturally shy, so I do not know how I began talking to him. Especially so since I thought he was cute, and usually, when I think someone is attractive, my mouth does not work. However, with him, it was like word vomit. Maybe because I was in a room full of females and we outnumbered him. Or possibly the idea of him being so much older than I was; I saw no threat. Whatever the reason was, we became friends. Some days he sat at the desk to the right of me, and we would talk, and other days he would sit behind me and play with my hair that covered his desk. 

Looking back at our life, it reads like a Young Adult novel. Of course, my real-life crush just so happens to be the definition of a book boyfriend. I laugh because I’ve seen a meme, “Fictional men raised my standards.’ Girl, your only requirements are dark hair and trauma.'” However, when I first met my husband, he only had dark hair. It wasn’t until after two deployments did he gain the trauma. 

Tyler’s transfer to our class took place early in the year. I know this because our generation is marked by one life-changing event: 9/11. 

Before that tragic day, the weeks were blurred together. The only thing I vividly remember from the month of August is the tall, good-looking guy with a crooked smile invading our girls only drama class. 

On that morning, I can remember practically every detail. I was in my Spanish two class, where every moment was forgettable until someone rushed into the room. The person shouted at my teacher to put on the news. The entire class turned their attention to the tv. Students were talking amongst themselves as my teacher frantically tried to call her daughter. She lived in NYC. My classmates and I watched, and I began arguing with anyone that would listen. I grew up around planes my whole life. The anchors kept saying that a small Cessna flew into the first tower. I knew that was impossible to be true. The plane wouldn’t look the way it did if it was a Cessna.  As the anchors tried to make sense of the situation that was going on, a second plane flew into the tower’s twin. At that moment, I stopped talking. The world froze, and everyone had a single thought: we are under attack. As I digested what I had just witnessed, another thought filled my mind: The guy I had a crush on was going to war. 

One thing that attracted me to my future husband was his enlistment in the army. Growing up with my family serving in all branches except for the navy, I found his dedication to our country attractive. And discovering that he enlisted the summer before he was eighteen just made it that much better. But when he enlisted, we were at peace. 

An announcement came across the loudspeaker, and we were told that they would dismiss us from our last-period class. I am sure I was a part of the few people who were eager to move. My last period was drama, which meant I would see Tyler and talk to him about everything that happened. The entire class sat on the floor in front of the tv. I remember leaning against him and asking him what he thought was going to happen. He may have looked at me, but I was too focused on the news coverage. I just heard him say, “I guess I’m going to war.” 

Two weeks passed, and so did his eighteenth birthday. I don’t know why these memories have stuck with me, but they have. He went skydiving with his mom and got the Sky Dive America’s Uncle Sam tattoo on his shoulder. 

So now the guy I had a crush on had a tattoo, jumped from a plane, and was going to war. All he needed was a motorcycle to complete the bad boy package. But Tyler was anything but that. We’ve talked about high school, and he said he never really was one of those people who hung out with one group. He was friends with everyone. He played sports, was a part of JROTC, and didn’t care who you were as long as you weren’t a dick. 

At the beginning of December, I chopped off all my hair. It was a rebellious move because my mom loved my long hair, and I was mad that I didn’t get to go to the Buzz Bake Sale. The Bake Sale was a local rock concert festival. I know it was a ridiculous fifteen-year-old move, but that was all I could control. 

When I went to school that Monday, I wasn’t comfortable with my decision anymore. My hair was like a comfort blanket. The longest point reached my butt, and I had chopped it up to my ears. When I sat down in my seat, I felt a pencil swatting at my hair. “I like the hair, little one,” 

Suddenly, I didn’t hate my hair anymore. 

As the school year progressed, Tyler started taking another classmate and me home from school. That meant I no longer had to take the bus home every other day and since he drove a ford ranger with a bench seat in the front, I sat in the middle. At first, he would simply drop me off at my place, but as we got closer, we spent time together, discussing stupid things. It didn’t matter if it was about class that day, and how life was going, or music we liked. Our conversations were how I learned he only didn’t just enjoy country music. He liked the same pop-punk nonsense as I did. 

One day, he came into class and plopped down in his seat. He didn’t have the same positive attitude as usual, and I asked him what was wrong. He said he got in trouble with his mom for going over his text message limit again. I turned bright red and asked, “well, who are you texting?” he just laughed and said, “Gee, I wonder who’s been texting me every day.” I might have been part of the reason he had to get unlimited text messages. 

We would play twenty questions, however, those twenty questions would somehow last well into the night. It was fun getting to know someone this way. It felt more like we were sending letters as opposed to text messages, and it took the pressure off taking him face-to-face when I saw him the next day. 

The closer we came to the end of the school year, the sadder I got. He was going to graduate and go off to the army, and I was going to continue on with my life as if he had never walked into it. I didn’t have any right to be sad about him leaving. We weren’t dating. We were just friends. I knew he was dating someone at the beginning of the year, and eventually, they broke up around February. I had to ask him when it happened because I wasn’t sure. That part of his life wasn’t important to me. We were just friends, and I didn’t even entertain the delusion that we would turn into something more. 

At some point in the spring semester, I learned that Green Day, Blink 182, and Jimmy Eat world were on tour together. I was beyond excited and begged my mom to let me go to the concert. None of my normal concert going friends were going, and she said I had to have an adult accompany me. I ended up asking a family friend if she would take me, and she said yes. 

I was so thrilled that I was going to see my favorite bands I overloaded him with information. At some point, he told me he had never been to a concert before. This shocked me. I had been to a BackStreet Boys Concert, seen Melissa Etheridge at Sunfest while in middle school, and just saw No Doubt play at Sunfest a few weeks prior. I guess all my excitement must have given me the courage to invite him to join us. Because at that point in my life, I was never that brave. 

I am pretty sure I died a little inside when Tyler said he would go. Though we were just friends and I had a crush on someone else who I thought I had more of a chance with, I couldn’t believe Tyler said he would go. I think he said something about his mom not wanting him to go at first. But he told his mom he was eighteen and had already signed up for the army. He was going to go to the concert. 

Mental break in writing because looking back and experiencing these emotions as a thirty-six-year-old is almost as unnerving as it was when I was fifteen. I am nervous about how my husband is going to react to reading my post because he reads everything I write.