Today I cleaned the kitchen. This isn’t *that* shocking, I keep a relatively clean house, only because when my house is cluttered my head feels cluttered. But this morning, I had no intention of cleaning. When you live apart for half a year, or, say, more than half of the past 3 years, or huge chunks of an entire 14 year marriage, sometimes big things happen. Sometimes a couple grows apart, someone is unfaithful, someone wants to leave, can’t wait anymore or is just plain done. But other times, other times none of those things happen. You are still very much in love. You’ve never had the time, energy or even the smallest interest in an affair. You’re in this for life Instead something else creeps up when you don’t expect it. Turns out I got really comfortable alone. I made my own choices, my own decisions. If I wanted to leave at 8pm and go shopping, or skip the gym in the morning, or make grilled cheese for dinner all week, no one was there to say anything. Then he is home and I resent it. He is in my space. He has a voice in my decisions. He speaks up and sometimes he says things I don’t want to know or make judgements I am not interested in hearing. So things are tense. Adjusting is hard. I’m not fun to live with, and sometimes that means neither is he. Fuses are short. Sometimes one of us pushes it too far. This morning it was Dh, but that doesn’t mean it’s never me. It just wasn’t me this time. When both of us went to work this morning neither…
This week, the bloggers in the military community are sharing posts on the bullying that happens within ourselves. I’ve written something on the subject that also focuses on my mistake tattoo and postage stamp dress, over here You know the type. Sometimes it’s overt, when someone treats another military spouse badly because of rank, branch, job. How many kids they have, how they wear their hair, how they dress or where they choose to live. They use words like “dependa” and they talk down to people they think are beneath them. They are hurtful, judgemental, calling names, excluding from groups, popping up on social media to tear down another spouse. Sometimes, it’s obvious. And sometimes, it’s less so. Sometimes it’s saying things like “I just don’t *need* that kind of support, but if you do….” or “I’m not the *kind of person* that fits in with the ‘military wives’…“ That subtle tone that lets you know that your choices are fine, but they are better than that. In fact, they are better than the whole community. I admit, when I hear “I know what *those wives* are like, I just don’t want to meet any.” it stings. As though somehow we are all the same and none of us are worth knowing. But as I wrote my article for this event, I found the same thing happening any time I try to write about how I think other people should change. I was instead only made painfully aware of the ways *I* need to. Because sometimes we hurt each other by our actions. By the way we treat people differently, by respect…
