This was written by my friend, Amy Brigham...a fellow army wife with a husband soon returning from a one year deployment. She says it better than anyone else could...I've tried to express myself in this way, but she always has the right words! ...
Not All Seperations Are The Same
Dear Well-Meaning Friend,
I understand you would like to empathize with me; to support, encourage, and lift me up, but comparing your husband's business trip or a long distance relationship to our experience of war is not going to do what you intended, for myself or any other military spouse. Separations of all kinds are hard, I will never deny this fact; however, this doesn't mean all separations are similiar or cause the same upheaval and adjustments in one's life.
When my husband walks away to board that bus or plane or ship, we are saying goodbye to more than just each other. We're saying goodbye to innocence, goodbye to normal, and, a very small chance, goodbye for good. The next time I see my husband, he will be a changed man; older and different than the man he was the day he left, on a warm sunny day, that now seems so far away. He will have seen things--terrible things--things we all hope we'll never have to see. The bodies of children lying dead in a field hospital. Blood running alongside the road, after an IED attack. The remains of human beings--men he knew--scattered all over the ground in the aftermath of a bombing. He may have out processed coffins, as they left the country, with the body of a young person his age, perhaps even somebody he knew from high school or basic training, contained within. Maybe a soldier he shared a meal with that very week.
My husband will have witnessed the lives of comrades destroyed, when a Dear John letter arrives in the mail or divorce papers are served over R&R leave. He might comfort one of his men, as he learns his wife has committed adultery and that the baby she's carrying may not be his. He'll watch all of this pain unfold all while miles away from me, hoping, praying, and trusting that none of this nightmare will come true in his life. Even with the utmost of trust, a long separation causes insecurity and questions in the minds of even the most emotionally strong men.
When he comes home, after a long time away, it will be a joyous time to be sure, but an anxiety ridden one as well. What happened while he was gone, he will wonder. Where is his place in this family anymore, if life went on without him for a year, while he was essentially replaced. Will his children know him? Will the littlest ones recognize his face? Will his teenagers still need him? Will his wife love him as much as she once did, knowing what he's seen, what he's touched, the experiences that have scarred his heart and psyche, just as the shrapnel once scarred his hand? Will she still love him? Will that something special have been lost during his absence? Much anxiety indeed.
He'll look around his world, needing to adjust to American culture again, needing to learn to navigate our roads, needing to re-learn how to be part of family life again. The dangers of war won't just lift off his mind, the moment he sets foot on safe ground. There will be boxes to avoid on the sides of the road. Abandoned backpacks in sporting goods stores, from which he'll need to protect his family. He'll jump at the crashes of plates falling at the restaurant, or the screech of the kettle, perhaps ducking under the table, and he'll avoid crowded public places possibly for years to come. For months, he'll feel unsafe without his body armor and weapon at his side and he'll call out all of the possible hazards on the side of the road as he drives.
There is the marriage contract to be re-negotiated, as you learn to live with each other again, to accept the numerous changes that came during the year's time, to adjust to the new people you have both become. Many changes of which cannot be fully appreciated until you have come together again, thanks to oftentimes questionable communication during the time he was gone. Roles have shifted and what once was can never be again. You're both older, wiser, different, and changed. There's no going back, just moving forward, together, hand in hand. Even the most intimate parts of the relationship will need to be entered into slowly, re-learned, and explored anew again. Everything doesn't necessarily fall into place right away but takes time. He's been gone for a year. That is a very long time.
My husband isn't coming back from a brief jaunt to a city across the country. I'm not seeing him after a few months spent apart, with adequate communication possibilities, including a phone that rings both ways, and his being in a safe location. No, my husband is coming back from a war or time spent floating around on a naval ship, a city at sea. From a year of frustration, emotional upheaval, a time when he couldn't adequately address hygiene needs or always have access to a flushing toilet and time spent living through the bodily abuse of twenty four hour shifts. The reality we have lived through, and the road that lie ahead, are mighty different than what you have experienced, my friend.
If you desire to help us, to extend your hand in love and friendship, this is a reality that you must appreciate. You don't have to have lived through the realities of war yourself, to be a blessing to those who have, but you do need to understand where we're coming from, to appreciate the differences between what was yours and what is ours. This isn't just a happy time but a frightening one as well. Everything doesn't fall into place again, easily picked up from where life left off, but must be worked on to find "normal" once again. This isn't going to be easy or going to happen overnight. My husband isn't fully "home" just because he's walked through our front door again. To best be there for me, my friend, all of this I need you to understand.
With Love,
Your Military Wife Friend
Not All Seperations Are The Same
Dear Well-Meaning Friend,
I understand you would like to empathize with me; to support, encourage, and lift me up, but comparing your husband's business trip or a long distance relationship to our experience of war is not going to do what you intended, for myself or any other military spouse. Separations of all kinds are hard, I will never deny this fact; however, this doesn't mean all separations are similiar or cause the same upheaval and adjustments in one's life.
When my husband walks away to board that bus or plane or ship, we are saying goodbye to more than just each other. We're saying goodbye to innocence, goodbye to normal, and, a very small chance, goodbye for good. The next time I see my husband, he will be a changed man; older and different than the man he was the day he left, on a warm sunny day, that now seems so far away. He will have seen things--terrible things--things we all hope we'll never have to see. The bodies of children lying dead in a field hospital. Blood running alongside the road, after an IED attack. The remains of human beings--men he knew--scattered all over the ground in the aftermath of a bombing. He may have out processed coffins, as they left the country, with the body of a young person his age, perhaps even somebody he knew from high school or basic training, contained within. Maybe a soldier he shared a meal with that very week.
My husband will have witnessed the lives of comrades destroyed, when a Dear John letter arrives in the mail or divorce papers are served over R&R leave. He might comfort one of his men, as he learns his wife has committed adultery and that the baby she's carrying may not be his. He'll watch all of this pain unfold all while miles away from me, hoping, praying, and trusting that none of this nightmare will come true in his life. Even with the utmost of trust, a long separation causes insecurity and questions in the minds of even the most emotionally strong men.
When he comes home, after a long time away, it will be a joyous time to be sure, but an anxiety ridden one as well. What happened while he was gone, he will wonder. Where is his place in this family anymore, if life went on without him for a year, while he was essentially replaced. Will his children know him? Will the littlest ones recognize his face? Will his teenagers still need him? Will his wife love him as much as she once did, knowing what he's seen, what he's touched, the experiences that have scarred his heart and psyche, just as the shrapnel once scarred his hand? Will she still love him? Will that something special have been lost during his absence? Much anxiety indeed.
He'll look around his world, needing to adjust to American culture again, needing to learn to navigate our roads, needing to re-learn how to be part of family life again. The dangers of war won't just lift off his mind, the moment he sets foot on safe ground. There will be boxes to avoid on the sides of the road. Abandoned backpacks in sporting goods stores, from which he'll need to protect his family. He'll jump at the crashes of plates falling at the restaurant, or the screech of the kettle, perhaps ducking under the table, and he'll avoid crowded public places possibly for years to come. For months, he'll feel unsafe without his body armor and weapon at his side and he'll call out all of the possible hazards on the side of the road as he drives.
There is the marriage contract to be re-negotiated, as you learn to live with each other again, to accept the numerous changes that came during the year's time, to adjust to the new people you have both become. Many changes of which cannot be fully appreciated until you have come together again, thanks to oftentimes questionable communication during the time he was gone. Roles have shifted and what once was can never be again. You're both older, wiser, different, and changed. There's no going back, just moving forward, together, hand in hand. Even the most intimate parts of the relationship will need to be entered into slowly, re-learned, and explored anew again. Everything doesn't necessarily fall into place right away but takes time. He's been gone for a year. That is a very long time.
My husband isn't coming back from a brief jaunt to a city across the country. I'm not seeing him after a few months spent apart, with adequate communication possibilities, including a phone that rings both ways, and his being in a safe location. No, my husband is coming back from a war or time spent floating around on a naval ship, a city at sea. From a year of frustration, emotional upheaval, a time when he couldn't adequately address hygiene needs or always have access to a flushing toilet and time spent living through the bodily abuse of twenty four hour shifts. The reality we have lived through, and the road that lie ahead, are mighty different than what you have experienced, my friend.
If you desire to help us, to extend your hand in love and friendship, this is a reality that you must appreciate. You don't have to have lived through the realities of war yourself, to be a blessing to those who have, but you do need to understand where we're coming from, to appreciate the differences between what was yours and what is ours. This isn't just a happy time but a frightening one as well. Everything doesn't fall into place again, easily picked up from where life left off, but must be worked on to find "normal" once again. This isn't going to be easy or going to happen overnight. My husband isn't fully "home" just because he's walked through our front door again. To best be there for me, my friend, all of this I need you to understand.
With Love,
Your Military Wife Friend
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