When I got engaged, I was 18 years old. I lived with my parents and I was in my first year of college. My fiance and I already shared a bank account and the tiny wage he received as a new recruit in the Canadian Forces was deposited there. I used it to pay my parents for the outrageous phone bill we racked up with collect calls in a world before cell phones. A year later I was married and I went from being my parent’s dependent to being my husband’s. The internet is full of articles that tell me why I should be more than a ‘dependent’. Why being a dependent is bad, disenfranchising and demeaning. I am told that I should be more, that I AM more. And I am. I’m a wife. I’m a parent, and a special needs parent. A friend. An advocate. I’m a writer. An employee. A student. But I’m also a soldier’s dependent. This week, that soldier marks 16 years in the military. Back when the phrase “if the army wanted you to have a wife, they would have issued you one” was far more common, and our community was much quieter. Now we have a voice, but the sentiment is the same. ‘Dependent’ is a bad word, used as an insult or a joke. But I feel maybe that’s because we don’t consider what being a dependent means. Being his ‘dependent’ has taught me more about independence than I could have possibly learned on my own. Being a dependent has meant that I moved away from my family and friends as soon as I got…
The following is a loose transcript of the 2nd half of my key note speech at this year’s Military Family Services conference. I’m so grateful for the opportunity I had to share at the conference and hope that it was even a little successful in what I set out to do, which was only share a story in the hopes it would get people thinking. I’m just one family and have only my own voice. Thanks so much for letting it be heard. After sharing my story, I think it’s important that we first understand that I am coming from just one family. We are not special; there are thousands just like us out there. But we all come from slightly different perspectives. The Canadian Forces has many different trades, jobs and postings that will all lend itself to very different experiences. Each military unit has its own unique culture. And each family within it, their own story. Blended families. Dual services families. Same sex partnerships, families with or without children. We can run the gamut of religious, political and social diversity. Looking at us all, what then is our goal? Are we looking for temporary fixes or long term resiliency? Are we giving tools or band aids? If we are, in fact, trying to teach families resiliency, how do we do that? Well, I can say that in our story, I know what didn’t work. There were times that I received more services than others. One deployment, I even received help from the Regiment by the way of a driver to take me to appointments that I was unable to drive to for medical reasons. Which was amazing, and needed at the time as we were new and I…
This week, Dh gets a new medal. It’s one every soldier gets, just for showing up for 12 years. Dh has 15.5 years in, but I just assumed it was like high school, it just takes some people a little longer to get there. Okay, no it’s actually just the army who occasionally forgets about things. Especially if no one reminds them…. but it’s more fun to explain it the other way. Now, if I was to give you a detailed list of the people who care about Dh’s medals, it would look like this: 1. Me. …. I know. It’s extensive. The truth is, Dh doesn’t much concern himself with what medals he has. It doesn’t bother him that with 4 deployments, he has a total of 2 medals on his chest. It doesn’t bother him that he’s less than 2 weeks from that 2nd bar on his Afghanistan medal, so he will forever look like he’s done less time there than he has. Or that he’s been home months from his 4th deployment and isn’t holding his breath that he’ll see that medal anytime soon. And when he stands on Remembrance Day next to a soldier who commands all the civilian attention due to a rack of medals that actually points to much less experience than Dh has, instead of bitter he’s mostly just happy he’s deflected any attention. In fact, he completely laughed it off when on his 3rd deployment to Afghanistan they gave him a camera to take pictures of the medals ceremony, because he already had the medal and they had…
A few weeks, maybe days after Dh left I found these bowls. My kitchenware is eclectic. I don’t have a set, instead I have bowls and plates and mugs that I chose separately. For Dh’s sake I chose all the same bowls, all the same plates… but the mugs don’t match the dinner plates, and nothing matches the desert bowls. So I’m always on the hunt for ones that I like. And back in October, I found these ones. Dark colored with a big red flower on each, they match the colors of my great room and so I added them to the collection. That was 6 months ago. They are now part of my routine, they hold my breakfast oatmeal and soup for dinner. They have a place in the cupboard. They fit in here now. It’s down to days/weeks now before Dh will return. It occurs to me this morning he’s never seen these bowls. And I have never told him about them. Why would I? Occasional rushed phone calls and emails that share the more important information over 6 months, it’s just one of those things that doesn’t come up. And yet how strange it must be to return home and see them there, in a space they weren’t before, part of a routine that is no longer familiar. The media often paints reintegration as a terrifying balance of happiness and rage, shows like Homeland reach to the extreme and other movies with returning soldiers often focus on panic attacks,anger, fear. There’s huge issues that certainly happen, confronting infidelity, financial misuse, PTSD, traumatic physical injury. Dramatic scenes play out on the soldier’s…
April is the month of the Military Child. I mean, there’s a month for everything, right? So why not one for them? Let me start off by saying that kids in any circumstance, are special. Farmer’s kids are amazingly resilient at sleeping in combine’s come harvest time. First Responder’s kids spend nights worrying about dad every time they hear a siren. Pastor’s kids get dragged to every single church potluck and hugged by strangers. And kids who’s parent’s work in banks, in fertilizer plants, in prisons and in offices, they have all learned very special ways to adapt to their own life. But I have Military Kids. So that’s what this is about. When April comes around, I see quite a few posts going around the social media world, and they start like this: ‘Your average military brat…..’. And I think… Is there an average military child? Some kids, like my husband, will move 5 or 10 times in their life. Across the country and across the world, they will watch the trucks pack up their life and they will make new friends and learn what TV shows are cool in which crowds. They will adapt to different playgrounds and different teachers. Sometimes they will even adapt to a different language. And other military kids, they will only move once. Or not at all. Some military kids will say ‘See You Later’ and watch dad’s ship sail out of sight. Some will say goodbye in a cramped room and watch the bus pull away. Some will say goodbye while dad heads to war. Some will say goodbye when mom heads on training exercise. Some will…
Usually when I’m asked to speak somewhere or write something, it’s to give insight into the lives of Canadian Forces families to a culture that doesn’t know a whole lot about them. Or what they do know, they see on the news or on Lifetime, a jaded, spun and less than realistic portrayal of a life. Many many days, the military plays very little role in my day to day activities. I get up, I go to a gym in my (civilian) community. I get my kids off to (a civilian run) school. I go to work. I happen to work on the base part time, so that part is a little skewed. But then I come home. I take my kids to Jiu Jitsu at another off base gym. I clean up and watch Netflix. I start over. So while the undertones of my life have been set by my spouse’s employment (I live where we were told, not where we choose. I sleep alone though I’ve been married 14 years), for those mundane daily activities we’re not any different. We’re average. My spouse, though in a combat trade and on his 4th deployment, has never been wounded, emotionally or physically. We walk through life like everyone else. Except we don’t. Not always. And there are times of year where the military stops being one of those quiet sideline participants and starts screaming for center stage like a tantrum throwing toddler. That’s the season of life we are in now. And I could yell from the rooftops that the military is ‘just a…
So, your spouse is in the Canadian military? Maybe you are a new couple, or maybe your spouse just enlisted. Either way, I get a LOT of messages from you wondering about practical advice on where to start. I have virtually none. I dont know who gave you the impression I know what I’m doing, but they were sadly mistaken. I’m winging it like everyone else. However, I will give you what I’ve got. It’s been 15 years, 3 kids 3 houses and 4 deployments, and I’ve learned far less than I should have by now, but maybe enough to get you started in the right-ish direction. Here we go. 1. It’s all in the name. And your name needs to be on EVERYTHING. Bank accounts. Cable bill. Cell phone. SunLife. Everything. Look at a monthly bank statement and all those bills that are paid? Make sure your name is on the account. Because if your spouse is away, he or she may be impossible to contact and those companies will NOT talk to you if there’s a problem. Being unable to communicate with his Visa company could mean a damaged credit rating on his return, and if you can’t speak to SunLife regarding her account, you may not be able to seek any reimbursements for the extent of their absence. 2. Power of Attorney If you are in a committed relationship (marriage, common law, etc), that piece of paper is vital. It’s the difference between you being able to relocate, make bank changes, etc or being stuck without a means to change mortgage or sell the house. I have used Power of Attorney to list and sell a house, secure…
So with Dh coming up on his HLTA in the next month or so, we are reflecting on past leave experiences and I thought I’d share a bit on how to make your very on HLTA a disaster. Because here at She Is Fierce I like to be encouraging… or at least be a shining example of what not to do. This is Dh’s 4th deployment but his first did not have a home leave, so this is our 3rd HLTA. (By the way, that ridiculous acronym is brought to you by Home Leave Travel Allowance, and is just an armyese way of saying his mid – deployment vacation.) I can’t speak for Air Force or Navy but most (not all) Army deployment have a 16 day HLTA anywhere from 6 weeks in to 6 week before the end, depending on which rotation they get. You would think it would be all sunshine and rainbows. I mean, you haven’t seen them in a long time and your being given approximately 2 weeks to spend ‘relaxing’ right? Everything will look like a thousand YouTube videos of cammo hugs and rainbow unicorn kittens…. Ya. You COULD keep assuming that. Or learn from our mistakes: 1. Raise Your Expectations He’s going to get off that plane and you’ll jump in his arms. You’ll instantly love being around him 24/7. Your children will be on their best possible behavior, everyone will get along and he will immediately and completely readjust to life at home. Maybe. Or maybe the first hug will be awkward. The kids will be scared or angry with him for being away. One of you wants to jump into bed and the…
The last several months have been seeped with attempts to win fear. First there was the incident in Quebec where military members were run down in their own country and one lost his life. Scary and heartbreaking, but seemed like a one-off incident. It was a little easier to breath after that one because maybe, maybe that coward behind his car was the only one. Then there was the shooting in Ottawa. Another soldier, this time gunned down by a madman who rushed into our Parliament. The country took notice. It was on everyone’s mind, everyone lips. It was around that time I was sending Dh on his 4th deployment. Everything was standing still. The memories of sending him to Afghanistan after 9/11 started to creep back in, reminding me of the time when the reasons seemed more obvious than they have become. After the years where deployments have started to blend together (“wait, was that during your 2nd tour or your 3rd?“), years where the quiet complacency that can only be found in countries like ours where war and terror are far removed from our normal, clouded the resolve that had once been clear. When I see the news and hear the coffee shop/break room chatter, I want it to feel like it used to. Removed. That while devastating to some, not life altering to me. Selfishly, so selfishly, I want to be one of those people in line at Starbucks who analyze every political talking point of these events with the ease of those who have never watched a bus pull away. I want to be one of those college students on the train who theorize conspiracies and…
Here in my house, pity parties are not allowed to last the night. Sure, it’s okay sometimes to sit with your glass of wine and your bag ‘o chocolate and moan because you’re doing it on your own again, or because you’re little family won’t be complete at Christmas, or because not one child will have dad home for their birthday this year….. but then you pick your bloated, wine filled ass off that couch and you pull yourself together. Life moves on. And sometimes pulling yourself together just involves enough energy for yoga pants and wiping the grime from the toilet before someone thinks there’s a frat house using your bathroom. But it’s still progress. In my house, we move forward because experience has taught me nothing gets better if you’re waiting for the ideal moment to try. So last fall when Dh left I decided we wouldn’t be sitting on our butt waiting for community to magically appear and make this 4th deployment easier. We were going to make community. Inspired by Sarah Smiley and her book, we started our Invitations Deployment Project. Each Sunday, we invite someone new for dinner. Each Sunday, we have a new chance to expand our community. You can see how our first month went here. The first week in December, I already had Christmas decorations up. I love to decorate for Christmas, and without Dh to pull back the reigns a little, I can get going pretty early. So by the time General Dean Milner and his beautiful wife Katrin came to our door I had already strung the lights, hung the garland and decorated the tree. They brought wine. I was going to…
