This blog post is probably more for me - to vent, to think, and to get some things out of my head and onto "paper" - than anything else, but I hope that those who read it may take something from it as well. It is long, so bear with me if you will.
Recently, I have been thinking a lot about the frequently thought, if not said aloud, idea that terrible things "don't happen here" or "couldn't happen to us." For instance, we learn in the news of a scandalous extramarital affair involving a highly respected and decorated military official. Some go so far as to ask whether infidelity in the military is an "epidemic." It's true that we too are a military family. But it couldn't happen to us. We read every day in the news of some terrible tragedy; I don't need to put links here to prove the point. Terrorism, crime, sickness, hunger, poverty, and tragedy strike millions around the world every day. But surely not in our town. Not in our neighborhood. Not in our home.
Members of the military, like my husband and so many of our closest friends, face dangerous situations on an unfortunately routine basis. Last year, a fellow Navy wife somehow found the courage and the strength to put into words what she went through when the worst happened. On this topic, I think that we as military spouses - at least I know that I as a military spouse - walk a fine line between reality and "it can't happen to us." In the part of our minds that is driven by pragmatism and realism, we know that it could, and we prepare as best we can. We have researched the best life insurance that does not contain exclusions for aviation and combat. We have gone over wills before each deployment and made sure broad powers of attorney were in place. We have sat in quiet hours and allowed ourselves for a fleeting moment to consider how we and our children would carry on if our spouse paid the ultimate sacrifice for our country. But in the part of our minds and hearts that is driven by love and optimism and hope, I think we have to believe that it won't happen even while acknowledging that it could. I know that I do. I know what my husband does, and I know what the risks are, but the thought alone is almost enough to make the world stop turning. So we put the necessary plans and pieces in place, but I do not entertain the thought that it is a real possibility.
But here's the thing. I have friends whose marriages were destroyed by infidelity. I know service members who survived near death experiences. In the past few years alone, I have known multiple individuals diagnosed with grave illnesses in their 30s. And just over a week ago, a young family that I knew was lost in a triple murder/suicide. That last one, which claimed the lives of two small children, has been not just difficult but impossible for me to make sense of. Though I didn't know them well, I knew them enough for the news of their deaths to shake me to the core. Enough to sob while holding my own baby and trying to find any way to understand how someone could reach a place so desperate as to take the lives of their children before taking their own. Enough to spend hours pouring through old photos on Facebook, still crying, seeing how happy they always looked and wondering where things went wrong. I looked at photos from the couples' wedding and the birth of their youngest child, and I couldn't help but think that surely no one - not them and not those who knew and loved them - would have ever imagined in their worst nightmare that their story would end like it did.
It. Could. Happen. Not just on the other side of the world or to strangers or on the news. In my town. To my friends. To my family. To any of us. I have not been able to shake this truth the past couple of weeks, and quite frankly, I don't think I should. Because it is the truth. So the question really is how to respond to and live with that truth. I am no psychologist, and I am not overly religious, though my faith is strong. I will not pretend to tell others how they should process tragedy, and I encourage anyone whose life has been affected by it to seek out any and all help that is available. What I will do, however, is share what I have resolved to do as I have contemplated tragedy, sadness, and truth in recent days.
I'm going to be thankful every day. Not just on social media. Not just on this blog. Not just in November, when it's trendy to do 30 days of thankfulness. Not just for 100 days during a hashtag campaign. Every. Day.
I do put stress and pressure on myself sometimes because I am not working full time. Some weeks I work 10-15 hours now, and some weeks I do not work at all. Some months I work as an attorney, and some months I do work that does not require the law degree I worked so hard to get. I make less than a quarter of what my salary was when I did work full time. At times I feel guilty for not using my legal degree and skills more, for not bringing the kind of money into my family that I could, and for taking what may well be a step back in my career. But here are the things I should remember. The only other time I was unemployed was for about 2 1/2 months when I first got married and relocated to Florida. I was looking for work and was constantly stressed about money because I wasn't bringing in a paycheck. I got headaches and stomach aches worrying about money. The truth? We were fine. We paid our bills, we lived comfortably, and we still went out and had fun. My husband made enough money to support us. And looking back, I wish I had enjoyed every minute of all that free time that disappeared once I found the great job. Sometimes I still stress about money, but if I look around: we are fine. We pay all our bills. We pay off loans early and contribute to savings. Our baby has more than she needs, and we go out rarely, but that's a product of being new parents, not of lacking funds. We have less money than we did when I was working full time, but my husband still makes enough to support us. For that, I am thankful. And my baby will never be a baby again. I will never again have the opportunity to watch her discover literally everything for the first time. The law, my degree, and work will be there in a year or two or five. But my baby will not be a baby anymore. For the opportunity to have this precious time with her, I am thankful. And since work occupies so much less of my time, I have recently taken on significant volunteer obligations; and for the ability and time to volunteer, I am thankful. So when I put stress or pressure on myself because I am not working full time, I will remember how much I will look back and miss these days, and I will be thankful that my life has brought me to exactly this point.
There are countless things to appreciate in daily life - family, friends, faith, health, opportunity, security - I could go on for pages and days. Just in writing this blog post, I have felt myself relax and have caught myself smiling. What a testament to focusing on the positive. What began as venting my emotions on tragedies and misfortunes touching my life and the lives of those I care about has ended as an exercise in relaxation and rejoicing as I think of all that I have to appreciate. So for anyone who has read this far, please join me.
Join me first in the jolting realization that all of those things that you file under "not here, not now, not me" could, in fact, happen here, today, to you. Then join me in taking away from that not fear or dismay, but genuine appreciation for all of the people, events, opportunities, places, experiences, and things that make your "here, now, and you" a place so wonderful that you cannot imagine tragedy befalling it.
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