Marines – …on the B.L.

End of An Era

September 13, 2019September 13, 2019 RaeAnna

I never wanted a military relationship. On a technicality, I never had an official, romantic, military relationship. But I have been in a military relationship from start to finish.

Shortly after Alex and I started dating in the winter of 2011, he told me he wanted to go into the military after graduating from college that spring. I knew I didn’t want to be in college while my boyfriend was off being a soldier or whatever. If he wanted to be in the military, then we would be friends. I wouldn’t do it with him.

Alex was never supposed to be anything more than a fling. He was a senior. I was a freshman. Neither of us were looking for anything. But he was cute; I was awkward. I made a move; it worked. Instead of flinging it, we fell in love. The kind of profound love that can only come about when inexperience combines with true compatibility, honesty, and dedication. I was raw and broken emotion, and he didn’t turn away from my pain. I saw through his façade to the man I still see today. It was and is the kind of love which reaches deep within two souls. Alex is written on my DNA. There is not a part of me remaining he has not touched. I am the person I am because he took the time to see me. I used to think he made me the person I am, but that’s not true. He did not make me; I made me, but he pushed.

After five years, I finally have pictures of this sign.

Love is an extraordinary force. The love we found made him decide to put his military aspirations away so we could be together. A year and a half after he chose me over the military, we were laying in bed. He stared at the ceiling as he said, “I think, I still want to go into the military.” I loved him, and I knew this was something he needed to do or he would resent the what ifs. He met recruiters from every branch. As a couple, we met with the branches he was most impressed with. Together, we decided on the Marines. It took almost a year between interviewing recruiters to sending him to boot camp. OCS was the first choice, but the political climate and a paperwork fiasco made that process long and unreasonable. He didn’t want to wait any longer, so he enlisted in October 2013. By that time, we were no longer a couple, but we were still committed to each other, sharing a home, bills, and responsibilities. I watched him swear in before the bus took my Alex to become a Marine. I heard boot camp changed people, and I had no idea who I would hug at graduation in three months. I’m convinced nothing can change my Alex because he was exactly the same willful, messy, smart, inquisitive, sarcastic, quirky, goof of a person. He did have abs, though.

Six years.
Five birthdays.
Four ranks.
Three deployments.
Two quals.
One extension.
Sergeant LeFebvre.

It may not have been an official, romantic, military relationship. But I have been in a military relationship. I have been there for him in every way that I could. I have showed up for ceremonies and a homecoming. I have gone to balls and family days. I have written letters. I have made phone calls. I have planned and replanned trips. I have waited and wondered. I have sent care packages. I have attended weddings. I have made friends. I have bought plane tickets and driven over night. I have whisked him away and staycationed. I have been there.

The military has kept him away from me. He hasn’t been able to support me or show up for me. That’s not his fault. It’s not my fault. It’s military life. We signed up for it. We agreed to it. We knew what that contract meant. It never made his absence less painful. Agreeing to something and dealing with something are not the same. I graduated college, which was largely due to his existence in my life. I hoped he would be there to surprise me. He didn’t. I moved and got a job. I wanted him to celebrate with me. He didn’t. I ended up in the hospital and almost died. I prayed he could be there to hold my hand. He didn’t. I had surgery. I wished he could take care of me. He didn’t. I moved across the country. I wanted him to move me. He didn’t. I got sick and spent months trying to figure out what was wrong. I needed to hold his hand. He didn’t. I made friends, who I wish he could meet. He hasn’t.

Seriously. This is a great sign. Also, taking pictures without a tripod and only a phone… difficult.

I have been a part of Alex’s life for six years, but he has not been a physical part of mine. It’s not that Alex is a bad guy or doesn’t want to be a part of my life, but the military makes it difficult if not impossible. We have done what we can, but now, we’ll be able to do more. Alex missed so many things in my life, and we can’t get those back. The future holds possibility.

As of today, an era has ended. With DD 214, he’s on his way home. For good. He’ll always be a Marine, but he’s no longer active duty. A new journey is unfolding for him. One that will more easily allow him to be a part of my life. As happy as I am, it is bittersweet saying goodbye to our years in the military and being military adjacent. We both grew as people. He’s a better man, and I’m a more self-sufficient woman. I don’t know how our lives will look, but it will be different.

Dear Alex,

I am so fucking proud of you. I didn’t want this to be my life in 2011. By 2013, I had accepted this would be part of my life for an indeterminate amount of time. Six years is shorter than twenty, so thank you.

Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life before the military, during, and after. Being your partner has been one of the greatest pleasures of my life. I don’t know who I would be without your constant presence, pressure, and reassurance even if it was in an email from a boat in the middle of somewhere. You have been worth every tear and worry crinkle but mostly laugh lines.

There is so much I won’t miss about the military. I will miss the balls, obviously. I will miss getting breakfast at the cafe downtown. I will miss the Marina. I will miss dragging you to lighthouses. I will miss the barracks in a masochistic sort of way. I will miss the idiots doing idiot things. I will miss your friends who I adore to tease. I will miss buying t-shirts that say Marines. I will miss the hanger and hearing helicopters over head. I will miss the lotion in the base hotel. I will miss the Aviation Memorial. I will miss driving through base. I will miss hearing acronyms. I will miss listening to you talk about your zingers and all the ways you annoy your peons. I will miss seeing you in uniform. I will miss the Pardon Our Noise; It’s the Sound of Freedom sign.

Most of all, I will miss walking next to you on Onslow Beach on Camp Lejeune. We have walked up and down that beach so many times over the last five years. We’ve walked it in July’s scorching sun and in December wrapped in sweaters. It was one of the first things we did on my first trip to Jacksonville and one of the last. I have collected the memories along with the rocks and shells you’ve given me on that beach. You never loved it as much as I did, but you always walked with me, no matter what.

Drive home safe, and I’ll see you soon.

Love Always,
RaeAnna

Experiences, Style, Travel

So Long, Jacksonville

August 28, 2019September 20, 2019 RaeAnna

At Bush International Airport bright and early to fly to Jacksonville. I DID pair a Spider-Man tee with a Pink Satin Pleated Midi Skirt! I’m so avant garde! | Shoes | Suitcase | Sweater | Purse | Belt | Earrings | Watch |

I love traveling. Obviously. I do it all the time. I last left Jacksonville a month and four days ago, so why am I back so soon?

Jacksonville, North Carolina is an interesting place. I was not immediately smitten. The process took a few years. Situated in swamplandia, it’s not much to look at. Their main claim to fame is the Marine Base: Camp LeJeune. Like most military towns, there is an abundance of strip clubs, pawn shops, used car dealerships, tattoo parlors, and barbershops because what else could a young military man want (and I do mean man, well maybe guy). The average age of the town can’t be more than 25 because the military is notoriously young. The natives are ambivalent towards the transient military community, but they manage to coexist in the dysfunctionally-functional way people trend toward. When a civilian finds out I’m in town visiting a guy in the military, their eyes glaze over and I receive a cursory nod and “Oh…” before they move on to more interesting clichés of life. Wealth is not evident, and the town feels like it would immediately implode if the military ever forsook them. There are pieces of history and beauty scattered throughout. A river runs through downtown on its way to the ocean, where you can find a wooden boardwalk sloping from age and water. A cobblestone block runs in front of a cute café. Historic buildings, Victorian homes with wrap around porches, and a white-steepled church make the area quintessentially small town cute. It did take me four and a half years to find this spot in town devoid of strip malls and other less than tasteful establishments.

All of that said, I have a warm spot in my heart for this hiccup of place. What the town lacks, nature makes up for. People are genuinely kind, whether I’m military adjacent or not. Many are far from home, hailing from every nook and cranny of the country. Where the city stops, the ocean and forest immediately begin. You don’t have to drive more than fifteen minutes to find a beach. If you’re willing to go a little farther, you can find lighthouses and islands and the North Carolina of postcards.

The small town cute in downtown Jacksonville.

I have no desire to live in Jacksonville. There is a HUGE chance, I’ll never be within city limits after this trip is done.

I’ve been a frequent and enthusiastic visitor to Jacksonville, Camp LeJeune, and MCAS New River because it has been home to my best friend for five and a half years. After finishing boot camp and his MOS training, he was stationed as a helicopter mechanic at MCAS New River. I visited him for the first time in Jacksonville exactly five years ago to the day for Labor Day weekend. We went to beaches and reconnected after eight months apart. My life has changed immensely in those five years. I quit my jobs in downtown Chicago’s corporate America, which allowed me to see him more often and for longer. I started freelancing – aka bartending to pay the bills. I moved to Houston and freelanced – for realsies, no bartending necessary. I began a blog. I started traveling even more. I adopted a dog. I rediscovered the fuel of my spirit. Alex and I fell apart and reconnected. It’s been a journey.

Throughout it all, I’ve been a regular visitor to Jacksonville, North Carolina. But this is my last trip. I’m not ditching Alex for a sparkly new best friend forever and always. He is leaving the Marines behind him. In a few days, he will be discharged after six years honorable years of service, three deployments, and a lot of sleepless nights to start his life a civilian somewhere in the world. I’ll have a new place to frequently and enthusiastically visit.

So this is a last minute farewell tour of a town I would have never gotten to know or grown to love if it weren’t for the Marines.

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna

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I’m looking very confused as to what to do with this sweater, while trying not to over heat in the 6:00 am heat of Houston, Texas.

In My Own Words, Lifestyle

Homecoming

July 21, 2019July 20, 2019 RaeAnna

Welcoming Alex home with my sign. | Dress | Shoes | Watch | Sunglasses | Earrings |

Happy hugs in front of his helicopter du jour. | Dress |

Marines lining up ready to see their families.

No, I’m not in high school or college. I did celebrate Homecoming a week ago. By this point in your life, you’ve probably seen a movie or a YouTube video showing a military person (probably man because patriarchy) come home from deployment or war – technically deployment just less cushy and more PTSD inducing. There are lots of flags, running, hugs, kisses, and happy tears. It’s all very realistic.

This deployment was never actually supposed to happen because he was supposed to get out of the military last October. Oh the military. You never know what’s going to happen until it’s already happened. Alex extended another year to go on this one. His two previous were to Japan and a bit of time on a boat floating around Asian countries. This one took him on a boat around the Mediterranean and an unplanned adventure in the Iranian neighborhood. With Flaming Hot Cheeto in office, it’s not exactly a time you want your loved one deployed in a less than friendly neighborhood. Six years. Three deployments. This was my first homecoming. Due to poverty, scheduling, and a lack of communication on not my part, I’d never been able to welcome Alex home with a cliché sign and a hug.

Yes that is a dinosaur behind us. | Dress | Shoes | Earrings | Watch |

Alex came home from his last deployment a week ago. I was waiting with a very me sign and a very big hug. It was not his longest deployment [upon Alex reading this: it was the longest. I guess I missed him less this time or I’m used to him being gone or it didn’t seem as long because we were able to talk more than any of the other deployments], but it was the most stressful, for me. Although, they are all stressful if I’m being honest.

As in everything military related, there is a lot of hurry up and wait, which is the military’s unofficial motto, by the way; I should figure out what that is in Latin. Hurry up and wait all the way up until you hold them.

Alex’s helicopter as we wait and wait and wait to actually see them.

Homecoming is an emotional thing for families. I can’t explain to you what having someone deployed is like except it feels like your heart is torn in two, and one piece is somewhere in the world. You wait on phone calls and emails. You wait and wait and wait. Then the day comes when they come home. Make a sign (please make it original, I will judge you). Dress up. Pop a mint in your mouth because it has been seven months. Huddle with hundreds of other people in a hanger in 97 degree weather waiting to watch the helicopters come over the horizon. The room vibrates with anticipation and love and anxiety. The Marines corralling the families dictate where the boundaries are and say, “If you step over this line, you could die.” Terrifying to children and some adults, while also being completely overdramatic. You wait and laugh and chat and don’t step over the line. The glint on the horizon… just a bug. A glint on the horizon… a helicopter. Just kidding, not the helicopter. Is there time for a bathroom break? If you run fast. Don’t run! Wait. Jostle. A roar goes up. Helicopters are on the horizon. People scream and cry and wait. The helicopters fly over in a V formation. Look for the one your Marine is on. They land. You can see your Marine. Wait. They gather on the flightline and “march” towards us with as little panache as very tired Marines can muster. The loud speaker says an unknowable something. People rush forward over the line separating alive and possible death. No one dies. Some find each other immediately; others take awhile. After hugs and kisses and I missed yous and I love yous, Marines play a rousing game of where the fuck is my stuff? Because it is all piled into neat lines, but it’s government issued, so it all looks the same. Stuff is located. Buy a tshirt. Everyone carries something making your way to the car. Wait some more in the parking garage. Freedom. They’re home.

Three minutes in and I’m already goofing off. | Dress | Shoes | Earrings | Watch | Sunglasses |

I want this to be more emotionally charged than it is. But it’s not going to be. I can’t get sad or weepy or nitty-gritty honest about homecoming or this deployment because I’m not in that headspace. I don’t foresee myself being in that headspace in the near future. If you want something real and emotionally charged click here and read my post about military movies and my lack of composure watching them.

I’m happy Alex is home. I’m happy he’s not dead. The likelihood he would die on the deployment was low, but you never really breathe easily when they’re away. I can breathe easily again. I’m sleeping better, which is to say as shitty as usual when Alex isn’t deployed. Deployments are hard. They suck. It’s emotional to have them deploy and emotional to have them come home. The interim is equally emotional. I think I’m tapped out on emotion right now, so this post is lackluster. I told Alex I had nothing interesting to write because he was lackluster, which is obviously not the case. No one spends six years loving a person in the military at a distance through deployments, deaths and illnesses, graduations and birthdays, anniversaries and holidays, normal days and hard days, when the one person you want by your side can’t be there.

This is not a life I would have chosen, but I did choose to love him. I loved him before the military. I loved him through the military. I will love him after the military.

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Travel, Travel Guides

A Fabulous Disaster

September 29, 2018June 25, 2019 RaeAnna

Angel Oak, a 400 year old tree, in Charleston.

I am a planner. I like having plans. No. I love having plans. They make me feel safe and comfortable and, you know, like I have a plan.

This vacation was not off to smooth sailing in the plan department. I was going to visit Alex in North Carolina to celebrate ten days of his much deserved leave from the Marines. (I know, he’s a bad-ass.) As things go with the military, leave was o.k.ed by the peeps in charge nine days before I hopped on a plane. The month leading up to, he was on a boat with minimal contact, so these non-plans were made through one email a day. Due to the surprising hurricane, which was most definitely not included in the vacation, he almost didn’t make it off the boat. So we made tentative plans to head to Savannah and Charleston for vacation. That was the plan when I got off the plane. Literally.

Alex met me at the airport on a Tuesday in Jacksonville, North Carolina; it’s an hour north of Wilmington, North Carolina: the hub of hurricane-desimation. I got off the plane. We hopped in his beater of a car. He packed a bag at the barracks. We were evacuating within an hour of wheels on the ground. We were NOT going to be stuck in the eye of the storm for ten days.

Before we get started on this story, I want you to keep in mind two things: 1) I was working 40 hours a week. 2) The condition of Alex’s car. He bought a beater after one of his deployments. Traveling in it was potentially more worrisome than the hurricane. It could fall apart at any moment. I’m not joking. (It did not fall apart. It made it like the confident hunk-a-junk it is.) This car does NOT have A/C. I repeat. NO air conditioning. In the South. On a roadtrip. In Miami. Yikes. Hot as dragon balls.

The beautiful circular staircase at Vizcaya.

First stop: We were exhausted, so we stopped at the first hotel – if it can be called that – we saw in Myrtle Beach. The next day, we woke up and headed for Waffle House. It’s a roadtrip must for me! I grabbed my laptop, and as I dug into a pecan waffle and cheesy eggs, I started looking up Air BnB’s. Alex filled me in on the hurricane, the stock market, politics, and other things I almost care about. I’m kidding. I care a little. All the Air BnB’s were expensive. I’m a budget traveler, and Alex makes me look lavish. He found a hotel in Jacksonville for a steal. The pictures and Google reviews made it look acceptable. Spoiler: It wasn’t.

We ended up leaving Jacksonville after the first night because there were bugs, and I got bit up. I have PTSD; one of the triggers for me is bugs because I had an unfortunately extended run-in with bed bugs in high school. After a good cry in a moldy shower, we headed to the place where all problems are solved. Starbucks. I texted my savior, I mean best friend. She works at Hilton and is an Art History grad student. There is this awesome Hilton Honors Friends & Family discount through which she saved my vacation and mental sanity in one fell swoop. Unfortunately due to the hurricane, there were no affordable hotels in the area. On a whim, I looked up rooms in Miami. They were super inexpensive. Instead of doing a Charleston and Savannah trip, we decided to head to Miami for five days.

I love Miami. It’s such a fun city. One of our friends from college – a fraternity brother of Alex’s – lives in Miami, so we had to see him. The hotel was fabulous. Thank you Kelsey. In Miami, we saw Vizcaya, Little Havana, Lincoln Road, Miami Beach, and a couple bars. It was a blast. Never did I think I would evacuate a hurricane TO Florida. Read about that trip here!

As our time in Miami began to fade, we needed to figure out what we would do with our last four days. One of Kelsey’s favorite places is St. Augustine, Florida, and I’ve heard her talk about it for years. We decided to head there. That discount hooked us up again for two days! There we went to the Castillo de San Marcos. I did a lot of eating. We toured around the pretty town. The hurricane damage and flooding had not abated, so we extended our stay a day to enjoy the beach.

I called Delta a few times while in St. Augustine. The Jacksonville airport kept losing power, so no flights were leaving or arriving. The roads to Jacksonville were also not open due to flooding. Even if the airport was open, I couldn’t get there. Luckily, Delta was super helpful and rescheduled my Friday flight to Monday. Hurrication extended!

Where to next? Well, Charleston got us five hours closer to the airport, and I wanted to go. There’s so much to do there, but I didn’t know anything to do. Holy smokes it is gorgeous! Other than seeing the Angel Oak, Alex and I pretty much just walked around the city! It reminded me of New Orleans in a lot of ways. I will be back to explore more.

I made it back to Jacksonville on Saturday night. On Sunday, we drove around town and to the marina on base to see the hurricane damage. It was definitely something.

My flight took off as replanned on Monday afternoon.

There was no plan. At all. The entire trip. The only thing planned was the date and time of my flight. One of which was moved. It ended up being a blessing we didn’t have plans because the hurricane would have ruined them anyways. I’m glad I had this fabulous disaster of a non-planned vacation with Alex because he thrives in chaos and truly enjoys watching me be uncomfortable. I don’t know if I would do it again intentionally, but it is one of the most fun trips I’ve had, though, equally stressful.