Writing

Kevlar and Camo 

Write about your first crush.

My first crush is the man that I still kiss goodnight. But our journey was not a simple path. The returns, twists and tricks of fate. They made us work for it. I spent years living in the what if. What if I had answered the question when I was 15? What if I would have reached out throughout college? But now my, what ifs are something different?

It’s something silly. But not silly haha. It’s a silly glimmer of hope. For one day, my husband would feel comfortable enough to share his stories with the world. Ones of sugar cookie soldiers and Pop-Tart attacks.

I should be grateful for everything that he has done. Being a survivor. Never becoming a statistic.

I say it’s by the grace of God he did not become one of those 22 a day. However, he argues I deserve credit for saving him from a potential bullet to the brain.

A large part of me believes that hearing from an E5 or an E6, someone who Hollywood hasn’t glorified. Their stories might help those who the media has jaded. Maybe a glimpse into the lives of those who were not officers. Those who lived through the war knocking on death’s front door.

My husband has demons he keeps inside. I think back, wondering how he survived.

The first picture that he sent me after a lifetime a part was something I was not prepared for haunted eyes. I missed the face that once held laughter and mischief. The man before me had lost his soul along the way. 

Next year, it’ll be a decade together. Now, in almost every picture, his eyes shine bright. I wish I could get my husband to write. To share what brought him through the darkness, but also what led him there.


His stories could bring more than laughter. They might let other soldiers know they are not alone.

Stories could open the eye of people who have become jaded. Everything that was served for the public to understand the wars of our brothers, who have become the wars of our sons, was drafted to cause fear. 

His stories could help those who fought know not everything was in vain. Our troops helped many and saved some who would only try to kill them later.

For those who remain, their stories should be told. But to get my soldier to put his pen to paper. He asks me would read stories of an everyday joe. The world craves glamour like the Seals, Green Beret, or Delta. He was just a soldier that lived day to day.

There have been days when he thinks he should tell his story. However, he dreads the notion that some will believe he seeks only glory. But the reality is he just aspires to be sure that his friends who didn’t come home have their story is heard.

Lent

Day 19: Stay close to people who feel like sunshine

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.