11..., Lifestyle

11… Signs I Have A Love-Hate Relationship With Military [Dudes]

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I can steal their camis and pose for cute pictures.
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Our very first ball together.

 

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Sending him to bootcamp in October 2013.

 

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The first moment I saw him on Family Day.

 

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Second ball!
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The first time we Skyped after boocamp… I cried.
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Third ball! (My camera has gotten better.)

The military has been a huge part of my life for seven years. I dated a couple military guys before that, but I was flingin’ it on vacation. I don’t know if I love to hate them or hate to love them. Either way, the two men in my life are an active Marine and a medically retired Marine. So my life revolves around base, VA, and acronyms. It’s a part of their lives, so it’s a part of my life.

People think I have a thing for military dudes, particularly Marines. Actually, I have actively avoided military guys, but the best men in my life are serving or have served. When Alex and I met, he said he wanted to serve after graduating college. I said, “Cool, then we’ll be friends when that happens. I’m not doing a military relationship.” Well, that worked out well… Fast forward seven years to my second big relationship. The only reason I started dating Dylan was because he was out of the military. 

It’s a hard life. There are perks, but it’s not a Nicholas Sparks novel. The only reason the military is a part of my life: love. There is absolutely nothing else that could convince me to be in a military relationship. 

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This is my thinking hat, it protects my good ideas!
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This only completely irritated him.
  1. Balls!!! No, I don’t mean testicles. The Marine Corps Birthday Ball is my favorite thing about the military. No exaggeration. Dressing up in a floor length dress, doing my hair and makeup, seeing my dude decked out in his Blues. Also dancing and cake. It’s all the good stuff of a wedding without having to sit through the ceremony! I’ve been to three: 2014, 2015, 2017. The 2018 ball was cancelled for Alex’s unit due to his deployment schedule. Bummer.
  2. Bootcamp. It SUCKS. Yeah it sucks for them, but they signed up for it. I just accidentally loved the wrong (right?) (inconvenient!) dude. Three months of no contact. Except letters. When you’ve spent three years being in a live-in, joint bank account, own cars, have bills kind of relationship, those three months are killer. Going from sleeping next to him every night to not having my support system anymore was ridiculously hard. I wrote tons and tons and tons of letters, but it’s not the same. Everything was on me. Letters couldn’t solve problems, pay bills, talk to his parents, buy plane tickets, make me tea when I’m sick, call the insurance after a car accident, or hold me when it was all too much. All of it alone, and it was rough. I’d never had to do it all alone; he had always been there to help. I made my best friend sleep in bed with me a lot during those three months because the bed was empty. Or I slept on the couch, so I didn’t have to be in our bed alone. It was also right in the middle of my senior year in college and over all my favorite holidays. Bootcamp sucketh. 
  3. Family Day. Bootcamp sucks, but Family Day is the day before they graduate when you get to see them for the first time. There is so much emotion. It felt like everyone was vibrating with excitement. Stretching to see their Marine. Whispering, giggling, jumping, running. There was an intensity to those moments I’ve never felt before or after. The day was a little different for us because Alex and I were in a completely different phase of our lives than almost all of the other Marines. His peers were mostly eighteen and just out of high school. The parents were over the moon to see their newly minted Marines because they had just spent eighteen years living with them 24/7. The girlfriends were equally excited, but it was strange because they were so young. Many were still in high school. Not to diminish an eighteen year old love story, but it’s not the same as living with and depending on someone for years. We’d been in a relationship for just about as long as they’d been in high school. Alex and I were old in comparison. We had years on them as individuals and as a couple, and we had life experiences they didn’t have yet. Alex’s parents were excited to see him, but they were used to going months without being around him, at that point. I had to wait longer than others to see him because I was on my very painful period. I’d been locked in the bathroom with my best friend throwing up for three hours by the time he was released. When I saw him, it was more than emotional for me because I was suddenly not alone anymore. Everything I had been dealing with loosened, and I couldn’t stop crying. Not to mention, an exorbitant amount of menstrual pain didn’t help the situation. 
  4. Uniforms “Women love a man in uniform.” I think that saying is true. The Marine uniform can turn an eh looking dude into a Heeeyyyy looking dude. Now if the guy is already attractive, hello! I’m in the minority, I love the Alphas. They’re old timey and a panty dropper for me. Just kidding, I’m totes a virgin, y’all…
  5. The VA I haven’t had a good experience with the VA yet. Veterans Affairs helps vets with life. It is particularly important to disabled and retired vets. Considering I live with and date a medically retired Marine, I’ve spent a good amount of time dealing with their fuck ups, filing paper work, and sitting in the VA hospital. I’m super opinionated about the VA. Dylan broke his back on the job as a Marine. His career was cut short; he wanted to be a lifer. His life was changed for the worse when he was 21. He’s had five back surgeries, almost died, lives with chronic pain, has a TBI, and a ton of other stuff. He’s kind of a mess; thank you USMC. The VA has tried fuck him and take away his benefits a few times. He’s gone months without getting paid because fuck if I know. At one point, we couldn’t buy groceries because all my money and our savings had gone to paying rent and bills because the VA didn’t pay him for five months. When someone volunteers their body, their mind, and their life for this country, the least we can do is take care of them when shit hits the fan. If you feel differently, fuck you. 
  6. Humor There’s a certain kind of humor almost all military guys have in common. It’s dark and sexually fluid and biting and observational and crude and raunchy and pretty much completely rude. It’s also spot on with my sense of humor, so I love hanging out around military guys. Alex’s good friend in the military calls me Shovel Face, which is my fault because I introduced myself as Shovel Face. Take that as you will. I should have known better.
  7. Military Life This is something I understand but don’t always (ever) appreciate. It’s not a normal job. It’s not a 9 to 5. It’s a life. It is all consuming. It’s not just the service member, their dependents are affected too. They dictate everything, which is good and bad. There’s a dress code and code of conduct and rules and regulations and IDs and so much. Even as a MilSO, there are still rules I have to follow and things I can and cannot wear on base. I get it. I’ll follow the rules. I just don’t like being told what to do or what I can’t wear. Vacations or visits in the military can be hard to plan and execute because orders might not come through, things might change, any number of things can happen. It’s a little volatile. You never know for sure until it’s done. I went to visit Alex for a long weekend. We spent 36 hours together, and he was called on a DET. So I spent the other 48 hours sitting on the beach in November and enjoying the hotel room. It was a huge let down. 
  8. Marine Bases Merriam-Webster dictionary definition 1a: of or relating to the sea. Water. Ocean. My favorite. Marine bases are by the water, usually. 29 Palms, I’m looking at you. Alex was stationed at MCAS New River his entire enlistment. He was on the water. Beaches galore. Thank you, find me in a swimsuit. 
  9. Acronyms Hello acronyms. They’re everywhere. There’s an acronym for everything. I’m a MilSO, which stands for Military Significant Other. I understand them far better than civilians and even some military wives, but there are some that fly right over my head. It’s part of the life. I always feel a little cool using them, which is stupid. 
  10. Letters I am a letter writer. I have been writing Alex letters through bootcamp, MOS school, deployments, and just because. I understand how much those letters mean, especially during bootcamp and deployments. When I was delayed at the Charlotte Airport, I met Chad. He’s a nice kid going into his junior year at Mizzou. We chatted VERY briefly. Long enough to find out he was on his way to bootcamp. I gave him the same advice I’ve given other boots, “It’s a game you can’t win. Just think of it as a game.” He did not look consoled, so I continued, “I know it sounds awful, but just knowing that no matter what you do you’re wrong will make it a LOT easier. When you feel like you’re failing, you’re doing it just right!” As I was about to board, I ran back and asked if he had people writing him letters. He said, “Yes. Two maybe three.” I asked if he wanted another person to write to him. He said sure, so I gave him my phone number in case he could get me his address. He did! So now, I’m writing him letters.
  11. Deployments Honestly this is kind of better than bootcamp but also infinitely worse. Bootcamp sucks because you can’t communicate with them, but it’s only three months. Also, death and maiming isn’t on the table. Alex and I have been through three. The first was to Japan in 2015. In 2016, he was back in Japan and did a short MEU visiting The Philippines, Hong Kong, and other places; I don’t remember. He came home from his last deployment in July, which was a MEU in the Mediterranean and elsewhere. His deployments were mostly safe, but they’re still nerve wracking. Deployments are terrifying for those of us at home. I worried constantly. (Read a post about that here.) The internet is a wonderful thing, but you still can’t see or be with them. Also the time difference can be drastic. At one point, I would set my alarm for 4:15 in the morning just to hear his voice for ten minutes. Although, on MEUs, there’s this thing called River City. River City strikes suddenly without warning. There is no way to confirm it until it’s over. It’s where communication is cut completely. Nothing in and out of the ship except letters, which can take months to get there. (I sent a letter in February, he got it in May. Helpful.) You’ll go from exchanging emails every day or even every few hours, to nothing. Did he die? Does he hate me suddenly? Did I say something? Has he decided to dive into his up-until-right-this-moment latent homosexuality? Have I gotten too old for him? He’s definitely dead. Then, three weeks and five days later, he picks up the email chain right where it left off. No news is good news, people. Since it was my third deployment and ninth year with him, I wasn’t terribly worried when River City struck. Although, I’m nearing thirty, so it’s probably time to get a newer edition. Deployments are a hate-hate relationship.

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna

Books, NonFiction

Thank You For My Service by Mat Best

Worth A Read Yes: Entertaining and Honest
Length 240
Quick Review Mat Best was a Ranger before contracting and becoming known for his youTube channel, tshirt/whiskey/coffee companies, oh, and he made a movie. He’s entertaining as hell in his book Thank You For My Service

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Best is a badass, but I belong to a Marine family. | Thank You For My Service
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Thank You For My Service by Mat Best.

As military adjacent, I’m interested in military nonfiction and memoirs, but as a critic I’m always wary because I’ve read some racist bulshit masquerading as war memoirs. Mat Best does a better-than-most job at balancing the realities of war with humanity in Thank You For My Service. 

Best was a Ranger in the 75th Ranger Regiment for five active military deployments before working and deploying multiple times as a private contractor. While working as a contractor, he created a youTube channel capitalizing on his creative side to document his time, opinions, and experiences as a member of the military. The channel lead to a partnership, which created a tshirt company, whiskey company, production company, a movie, and a coffee company. He’s kind of a jack of all trades, it seems. 

The military is a completely different way of life. It’s hard to understand if you’re not in it. Even as a milso, it’s not my way of life, but I am more familiar with it than others. If you’re not into a morbid sense of humor, don’t read Thank You For My Service because that’s a huge part of the narrative and the military. Jokes and rude humor are essential. To be honest, the book would be super weird if he didn’t include dark jokes. Best redacts certain words, even whole sections of text, to maintain anonymity and secrecy. This underpins the fact he had a dangerous job, and even though he’s cracking jokes, people’s lives are at risk every moment of every day. 

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I decided to pose with Thank You For My Service by Mat Best at the Aviation Memorial on MCAS New River in Jacksonville, North Carolina.

War is war. People killing people. War memoirs tend to dehumanize the enemy in a plethora of ways. It’s part of the job, and it would be hard not to when you see your friends and colleagues dying. Best doesn’t sugar coat the feelings he had in theater, but he also makes sure the reader knows on the other side of his gun are people. The fact he didn’t use racial slurs impressed me. He does er on the side of “kill the enemy,” but that was literally his job.

Best is confident, funny, and smart. He writes about his experiences leading up to enlisting, deployments, Ranger school, loss, getting out, private security, joining and being a private contractor, and figuring out his life. He doesn’t shy away from discussing what he went through getting out of the military. Being in his early twenties but feeling disconnected from his peers. So many military guys feel this way when they get out after their first enlistment. 

He and I, I am sure, have a lot of differing opinions, but he’s also a person I would have a ton of fun grabbing coffee with or joking over a bonfire. Throughout Thank You For My Service he emphasizes the sense of community he had in the military. It’s true, whether you’re in or military adjacent, when you meet someone who is military, you have something to talk about or bond over. 

Memorable Quotes|
“Thinking you’re going to die and wanting to die are totally different things. I didn’t have a death wish. It’s just that, in my experience, the more you deploy and face the dark realities that exist in life, the more comfortable you become with the idea of death.”
“…being immersed in Ranger culture for four straight years had affected how I saw the world and, more to the point, how the world saw me.”

Buy on Barnes & Noble | Buy on Book Depository | Buy on Walmart
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Title: Thank You For My Service
Author: Mat Best
With: Ross Patterson and Nils Parker
Publisher: Bantam Books
Copyright: 2019
ISBN: 9781524796495

In My Own Words, Lifestyle

Homecoming

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Welcoming Alex home with my sign. | Dress | Shoes | Watch | Sunglasses | Earrings |
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Happy hugs in front of his helicopter du jour. | Dress |
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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. 

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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. 

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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. 

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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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Happy to have him home!!!
In My Own Words, Lifestyle

Military Movies

 

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I don’t crumble at much. Military movies make me crumble. I wasn’t always that way; they never used to affect me at all. When Alex started the enlistment process, I started to look at them differently. Up until that point, they were history, other people’s lives. Once the military started to creep into the edges of my life, military movies became the embodiment of my greatest fears. I’ve barely begun writing this and tears are streaming down my face. Having to think about this for longer than a moment feels like my lungs are collapsing on themselves.

The thing I fear most in this world is losing Alex. It’s the one thing that I don’t think I would ever recover from. I am genuinely uninterested in a world he does not exist in.

He left for bootcamp five and a half years ago. Since the day I stood waiving as his bus drove away, I have worried. I have lived with a deeply rooted fear that the last time I saw him will be the last time I see him. War movies are the worst case scenario, but he’s in the military. It’s a scenario planted solidly in the plausible. And in the political climate we live in, it feels like anything is possible. Things move slowly and wish-washy in the military, until they don’t. Then, they move incredibly fast. “Surprise! You’re going on a DET tomorrow for two weeks.” You never know for sure until it’s happening.  

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The fear worsens when he’s deployed. I’m lucky. I am so incredibly lucky. I have never forgotten that fact. He’s been deployed to really cushy areas. He’s on his third deployment. Hopefully his last. Even in the cushy areas, there are so many unknowns. Often times, I will go weeks and even months without hearing anything from him. More often than not, I don’t hear about things until he’s home. Let’s be honest, I don’t really know when he’s coming home until a week or two before. I once found out he was home when he called to tell me he’d arrived. We’ve missed Christmases and birthdays and celebrations for almost six years. I don’t care as long as he comes home. During his first deployment to Japan, there was a pretty awful tsunami, which they had to evacuate for. I found out about the storm from my best friend, who was watching the news. I didn’t learn about the evacuation until eight months after he was home from another MilSO. At the time, it was terrifying. They had no power, so no way to communicate. He was fine having a grown-man slumber party with his buddies in the barracks. But human nature takes us to the darkest, deepest recesses of our minds. I’m very much an Eeyore, so this has been a rough five and a half years in my dark, deep recess.

It’s hard not to worry when their job description includes a weapon. It’s one thing to go shooting in Grandma and Grandpa’s pasture with your dad’s childhood rifle. And a completely different thing to be issued a gun. They are trained. They practice. They aim. They breathe. In case someday they have to shoot. I am terrified of that day because it means someone else is aiming too. War movies remind me of this. They’re all guns ablaze, awesome explosions, a clear enemy, a clear hero. War isn’t that. It’s not that at all. It’s not for entertainment. War is terrifying. War is people against people, who all think they’re right. They’re all just fighting for the people they love at home. They’re young. They’re so young. Alex went in at 24, and that was considered “ancient.” Most kids go in at 18 on their first breath of freedom. It’s too young to die.   

War movies mostly show the military side of things in the thick of it. There’s more to it. There are the families. There is the after. I remember watching American Sniper when it came out. The scene where he’s on the phone with his pregnant wife, and she hears the gun fire on the other side of the world before the line cuts out. She crumpled. I crumpled. Alex was deployed at the time. I can’t imagine. I don’t want to imagine. That scene was one of the hardest for me to watch. Amy Schumer’s character in Thank You For Your Service is still my favorite of her performances. She donated her paycheck to TAPS and Fisher House because some people’s fears come true, and their service members don’t come home or come home forever changed. Us at home. We have stories. We have lives that keep going, but there’s a part of us pausing. Waiting to breath until the next email or phone call or hug. Worry. I’m good at worrying. Every time there’s an unfamiliar phone number from a distant place. Every day I don’t see his name in my inbox. Every single moment there is silence, there is an ache waiting to know he’s ok.

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Military movies put my fears on a big screen. They show all the crap, I don’t want to think about as a possibility. I don’t want to think about his death. What about mine? The military dictates my life in a way, but it dictates every part of Alex’s. They are away from us. They don’t know what’s going on at home. When I was 24, I was in the hospital for a long time in total organ failure. I was dying. The doctors told me to prepare myself and those I loved. Alex wasn’t deployed, but he couldn’t come. I didn’t know if I would live or die. I didn’t know if I would ever see him again. He knew I was sick and called as much as he could. I wasn’t able to communicate well, so I couldn’t tell him the extent of how sick I was. I also knew he couldn’t come, so I didn’t tell him how sick I was because it wasn’t going to change anything. I wasn’t going to make him worry. I remember laying in the hospital bed, and all I wanted was to hold his hand one more time. I would have given anything for him to be there. I was too sick for many tears to come, so I closed my eyes and prayed to a God I don’t believe in. To this day, it is one of the most painful times to recall because I needed him. He couldn’t be there. I wasn’t worried, but I was scared.

Alex works on helicopters. He’s on a boat. He’s somewhere in the world in the ocean. The likelihood he will ever have a gun pointed at him is pretty low. I am lucky. I am so lucky. Accidents happen. I know of so many cases where flukes happen and lives are ruined, ended. (I live with a life and body ruined by a fluke that happened one day on base in Jacksonville, North Carolina because of a helicopter. But that’s a story for another day.) Bad things can happen to anyone anywhere. The military just magnitizes that fear. Those men and women sign up willing to risk their lives. That is honorable and noble. They have my respect and support. The people who love them stand by hoping to never get the call. Service men and women may be willing to give the ultimate sacrifice, but I am not. I am not willing to sacrifice Alex.

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Lifestyle

Eight Years

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Alex and I rarely take cute pictures, they are usually goofy. | My Sweater (backless!) | My Jeans | My Socks | My Boots | My Watch | Alex’s Sweater (I picked it out) | Alex’s Jeans (these too) 

To the rest of the world, today is New Year’s Eve. Up until eight years ago, it was just New Year’s for me too.

My most influential person came into my life eight years and a few hours ago. His name is Alex. He’s made appearances here and there on my blog. He’s been a big part of my travels this year. He helped make 2018 brilliant.

I can’t really describe Alex to you in any way other than he is an amazing person. People love him or hate him. There is no in between. I don’t know why people hate him except he is an intense kind of man in all the best ways. So there is probably something wrong with the haters.

There are people who come into our lives and change everything. Alex is that person to me. I am who I am because of him. He has become such a part of my story it is impossible to tell it without him. He is written on my soul.

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We are always laughing together. Seriously. It’s obnoxious… To other people, I imagine.

On New Year’s Eve of 2010, Alex came into my life, and he never left. We were in college together. He was a senior; I was a freshman. We had almost no reason to meet. Due to fate and a heart condition, he’s stuck with me. We were in choir together. When our director rearranged the seating arrangement, he ended up sitting in front of me. Very few people know this about him anymore: he has a beautiful singing voice. Long story short. Out of sheer optimism or naiveté or stupidity, I invited this dude, who I’d never had an in-person conversation with, to my house for New Year’s. He hugged my dad before we’d ever touched. It was ballsy. It worked out.

In the last eight years, Alex and I have been through more than I could ever write about. We walked to hell and back holding hands a few times over. It wasn’t easy. Actually, it’s been the hardest eight years of my life. Because of him, they have been the best eight years of my life. He is just shy of sainthood. Flawed as he is, he has always put me first. I have severe PTSD. I’ve been through sexual assaults and domestic violence. I have been in abusive relationships. I have been insecure. I have been broken. I have been bruised literally and in a non-physical sense of things. I have seen some pretty horrific things. Through my darkest days, Alex has always been there. He has never left. He has never made me feel less than. He has made me laugh through my tears. He has held my hand when there were no words to be said. When I have been unable or unwilling to pick up the pieces of my soul, he has put them back together. He helped make me whole, when I had never known what that felt like.

Alex went into the Marines over five years ago. We spent three years living together before he enlisted. In five years, we have spent one Christmas and one birthday together. He deployed twice. Two weeks ago, he left on his third deployment. He’s on a boat somewhere in the world. I don’t know where. Late on Christmas Day, I was lucky enough to get a phone call from him. We exchange emails whenever he has internet. I don’t know when he’ll be home. It will be eight months or more. It’s hard. I miss him. I miss hearing his voice. I miss getting to visit him. This isn’t new. We’ve gone over a year without seeing or talking to each other by phone in the past. It’s part of life in the military and loving someone in the military. Many other women, men, and families go through the same thing. Worry is part of our lives.

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Just doing normal people stuff in a field in 12 degree weather. Like normal people.

Alex and I have been a part of each other’s lives for eight years. They have been beautiful and stressful and all the feelings in between. Life has been hard on us. A lot of things were out of our control, some that weren’t, and some that seemed like they were. I wish many things had gone differently in our combined lives and our lives before each other. Then again, I don’t. I wouldn’t change him or I or what we have for anything in the world.

I can’t tell you who I am without talking about Alex. He has been an integral part of my life. Some people don’t just influence who we are, they form who we are. He has pushed me to be better. He has questioned my opinions and thoughts. He has held me when I’ve cried. He always challenges me to be the best version of myself. I don’t think I’m as good for him as he is for me, but I’m not going to tell him that any time soon.

It’s been eight years. I hope to have about a gazillion more, but I’ll settle for another seventy. I think I can make it to 97. Any day after that will be a blessing I think.

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“Can we just take a normal picture???” I ask. He responds “No.”
Travel, Travel Guides

A Fabulous Disaster

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Vizcaya Museum and Gardens in Miaimi.
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Angel Oak, a 400 year old tree, in Charleston.

 

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Bicycles 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.

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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!

 

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Enjoying Calle Ocho in Miami.

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.

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At the Little Havana mural in Miami!

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.

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Alex and I at Castillo de San Marcos in St. Augustine.