Starting Over: Our Life After Active Duty

Starting Over: Our Life After Active Duty

In all honesty I have no idea where to start, so I’ll start from the beginning. When I met my husband he was already an active duty soldier going through Advance Individual Training (AIT), at Fort Sam Houston, Texas. We were together for less than a year when he deployed the first time. During that first deployment I was pregnant with our son. The Army way of life became all I knew. Within a year of getting home from his second deployment, we had our second child. I had followed him from Georgia to Colorado to the state of Washington; I gave up everything to be with my husband and father of my children. The only wife I knew how to be was to an Active Duty Soldier. Within 6 months of our daughter being born, I was asked to talk to my husband’s therapist to learn their plan of action for him and the steps they wanted my help with.  Because his drinking had dramatically increased he was labeled an alcoholic, and he had been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

When I went in there, I was expecting to hear what they were going to do until his contract with the Army was up, which was in about 4 years. What I didn’t expect was to be told that they had started his Med-board and we should find out within 6 months to a year what the decision was.  When I married my soldier, I lost my identity and became a soldier’s wife; that was what I knew and that was what I was. I was blindsided and didn’t know what to do. For us it went so fast I was expecting to transition fairly slowly, because that’s the Army way “hurry up and wait.” I figured I would have time to adjust but within a day of finding out he was going through the process, he was getting appointments and knocking things off the list for his evaluations. I had two children under the age of 4 and another I babysat who was 1-year old so I wasn’t allowed- yes I said allowed- to go to his appointments or information briefs. When he would get home, I would ask him what was said and for the most part he would have no idea because his memory was so bad from the PTSD.

I received no helpful information on how to make the transition easier for him much less myself. When we hit his six-month mark of when it was started we were loaded up, papers signed, and heading home. I was in shock; I thought I had more time. When we got home we had to live with my parents until we were financially able to move to our own place. That in itself was bad, but when you add two children and a veteran with PTSD in the mix, I about lost my mind. While we waited on the decision from the Veterans Affairs (VA), I went back to work. I realized within 6 months that there was no way I was going to be able to work again. When I came home I found my two children were up playing by themselves while their dad was asleep because of his medication; he couldn’t remember if he took his medications; so he would take them multiple times. I knew in my heart that if I didn’t quit my job either my children were going to be hurt or my veteran was. I was not prepared for this, but I was an Army wife; we take what we get and make the best of our situations.

When we were around other people in the military they understood our struggles because they were going through them as well, but here in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, people had no idea. People would ask me why my young and able-bodied husband wasn’t working to support his family and I would have to explain about him having physical and mental disabilities that stopped that from happening. You wouldn’t believe some of the comments I got. I couldn’t help but wonder what my life had become. How had I gone from being a wife who knew who and what I was to someone I had no idea what it even meant to be a civilian wife. I had lost everything and anything of myself in that first year. I became someone I didn’t recognize. I had to stay strong for my kids and I had to stay strong for my veteran who didn’t know how to relate to the real world. I lost my voice in the mist of all that was going on in life. Two years ago on Labor Day weekend 2012, I took a step in finding the person that I had lost 10 years ago when I met my husband. I found out about group called “Her War, Her Voice” and a group called “Courage Beyond”; I sent them my biography.

I was asked if I would like to come on a retreat and meet other women who are like me. I was scared and unsure; I had never left my kids or husband for that long because they all needed me. I decided that in order for me to help them I had to help myself, which wasn’t an easy thing for me.  Several times I had talked myself out of going.

That weekend changed my life. I found that voice and that person I had lost all those years ago. It might not have been loud in the beginning but it was the seed I needed to start my journey. I was able to advocate for my veteran better after that weekend and I was able to better advocate for myself. I realized what I was missing all those years; I realized at age 30 what I wanted to be. I enrolled at The University of Alabama and got accepted. I am going to school now to be a social worker because that was what I have been in my heart all those years. I found that I am not alone and many people have that feeling of being lost. I wasn’t the only one who lost my identity when the Army wasn’t “the active” in our life. I might not be an Army wife anymore but I am not a civilian wife either. I am a Veteran’s Wife and no matter what will happen in the future that will never change who I am on the inside.

Transitioning was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life and the process needs to include the spouse as well as the service member. Not only are the service members losing who they were but their spouses are, too. Not only are the service members losing who they were but their spouses are, too. That old saying “If the Army wanted you to have a wife, they would have issued you one” doesn’t apply any more. They need to see that spouses give up their way of life in order to be there for their service members, so when it comes to big things they need help along the way as well.

#DeployedHome is an effort created by Bama At Work to help share the stories of returning veterans and how they have made it through their struggles. This campaign is part of the Service Member to Civilian Summit’s effort to bring together service members, veterans, their families, and community stakeholders to meet with advocates, researchers, clinicians, educators, and policymakers from around the nation, They want  to better understand and explore ways that all stakeholders can improve the transition from military service to civilian life.Through the use of #DeployedHome we hope that many of these veterans will see how their fellow soldiers have made it through and can see that they aren’t alone in this battle. If you are interested in participating, you can also submit your transition stories on our website militarytransition.ua.edu .

We invite veterans to tell us their story using #DeployedHome on Facebook and/or Twitter. We want to let our veterans know they are not alone, and there is still hope for them to overcome any challenge they may be facing.

Article by Crystal Ransom, social work student at The University of Alabama, member of the Service Member to Civilian summit planning committee, and wife of an Army veteran. Her husband was an Army medic deployed in Iraq in 2004 and 2006.

crystal ransom

You’re Stronger Than You Think You Are: How Yoga Continues to Help Me Heal.

You are strongerthan you think you are

I am a Marine Corps veteran, yoga skeptic, turned yoga student, turned yoga teacher. It’s been quite the journey from my “it’s not worth exercising unless it kicks my butt” military days to where I am now. I’m still both a student and a teacher at all times, though. I am a recovering perfectionist; I was raised by a career military father, strict mother, have been a competitive athlete my whole life, and became a United States Marine. I’ve got plenty of interesting baggage to work with. We all do. Realizing that I’m not special in that regard – that we’ve all got baggage, insecurities, and (mental and physical) injuries – has helped me immensely.

I’ve been injured – a lot. I really shouldn’t be alive. (No really, I’ve been hit by a car and struck by lightning, just to give you a couple examples). I can get mired down in that story sometimes, though, believing I’m the only one who’s been through what I’ve been through (which I’m not). And yoga, for all its feel good niceties, bendiness, and fit bodies, isn’t all sunshine and butterflies all the time. Yoga brings your tough stuff up, too. It’s sort of supposed to but it doesn’t always mean that’s a pleasant experience. Yoga can be the refining fires that we need to walk through, but don’t want to.

The question is, how do we meet the challenge of the fire without getting burned up?

Admittedly, I usually turn to yoga to make me feel better. When it doesn’t, I sometimes get mad. I think, “There’s no way anyone else in this room has sustained the injuries I have” or “no one’s been through what I’ve been through; my body is housing more trauma than yours.” I become defensive against the inaudible – yet very real – arguments and naysayers in my own head. Honestly, I don’t look around a lot during yoga class – usually. But last month, I caught myself getting frustrated with my body and doing just that: looking and judging (myself). It was awful. Talk about a slippery slope! It took a millisecond to leap from “I am present, I am peaceful” to moving into a posture I couldn’t do (yet everyone else in the class seemed to be able to do with ease and grace) and thoughts of “wow, I am still so screwed up and I’ll never be ‘good’ at yoga” to flood my brain.

Theodore Roosevelt said, “Comparison is the thief of joy,” and I’d have to agree. You don’t know what anyone else has or hasn’t been through. You don’t know if they were abused or loved, a dancer or a footballer, a military veteran or a “regular” college student, a newbie to the practice or an experienced guru. They good look like they’re doing the posture with ease, but they might be miserable. Or you could pity someone for not being able to touch their toes, yet they could be thrilled with themselves that they’re even in a yoga class at all. You have to meet yourself where you are and accept that in that moment, that’s what your mind and body is making accessible to you.

“Meeting yourself where you are” is a dance between complacency and perfectionism, coupled with trusting that you are stronger than you think you are. It’s not even about finding balance; it’s about being comfortable with the rhythm of your authentic ebb and flow. As Jon Kabat-Zinn says “You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.”  Learning to find your intelligent edge that fosters growth, versus pushing yourself to further injury, can take a lifetime to master. Striving for growth is very different than striving for perfection.

“Perfect” is an outwardly focused standard based on others; growth is fueled by healthy introspection. Omni-present comparison isn’t a sustainable attitude. That’s what helps me let go of it. It’s tempting and seductively destructive to self-bash. But it’s not sustainable. Accepting that comparison will kill you, along with these three simple yet powerful reminders help me work through painful and frustrating yoga classes. I hope they help you, too:

1.Good thing it’s all about the breath. Yes, it’s that simple. Thank God it is. I usually laugh when I catch myself self-destructing about something ridiculous (she is so much bendier than I am), and then I breathe. I take heart in knowing even if I just sit there without touching my nose to my toes, if I am breathing mindfully, then I am doing something good for myself.

2. Modifying doesn’t equal cheating. There are lots of yoga theories out there, some of which think that props are crutches. I strongly disagree. If I need to modify a posture by throwing a block under my booty or a strap ‘round my foot so I can enjoy the intended opening and keep my breath smooth at the same time, great, I’m going to do it. Modifying without props by utilizing the diversity of our own body is another way to tangibly meet ourselves where we are.

3. This is your karma. Injuries are not your “karma” as in “what goes around comes around” or “you deserve this,” but as in “your healing is your karmic action.” As you heal, you make space for others to heal. Doing yoga for you is the action you can take to heal yourself, previous generations, and future generations. We must change within before we can expect to change the world.

Look, I can’t do forearm stand. I can’t do sundial. I can’t do cow face pose. I most certainly cannot sit in full lotus. But I can move. I can breathe. And most days, I can meet myself where I am. When I do, I remember to allow for surprise. Sometimes, I can do full wheel without crushing pain in my low back. I have seven herniated discs in my back, a few of which are in my lumbar spine, and I had been convinced for years that Urdhva Danurasana was one of those “pushing yourself to the point of pain” postures for me. That is, until I had a gifted teacher guide me and tell me to think of the opposite of fear as I am about to lift up into the pose. For me, that word is “courage.” I silently say, “Courage, courage, courage” and every once in awhile, it gives me wings.

Student. Teacher. Both. Always. This is my yoga. What’s yours?

Sarah Plummer, author of this article will be one of the keynote speakers at the Military Member to Civilian Summit, in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. This conference ,dedicated to the process of transition ,will be held at the Bryant Conference Center on December 2-3, 2014. Follow us on FacebookTwitterPinterest and visit our website for more info and news about veteran careers, veterans issues and the transition process.

Article by Sarah Plummer, keynote speaker at the Service Member to Civilian Summit, author, Certified Health Coach, RYT-500, and former Marine Corps Officer.  Sarah serves as a board member on the Military Advisory Committee for Service Women’s Action Network

Sarah Plummer

In Iraq, Yoga Brought me Back…

In Iraq

 

Although I never planned to take my own life, I wanted it taken from me.

I was done. I stopped eating, not because I forcefully denied myself nourishment as a form of control or punishment, but because I had lost my appetite, I had lost my will to live. Like an animal does when it knows it’s time to go, I allowed time to take its own course with me. I faded.

I was an athletic young woman, who lost so much weight that my underwear barely stayed perched upon my protruding hips.  I basically never slept –nightmares of the rape by a comrade years before, as well as the current harassment I faced while deployed – kept me up at night.  I felt I had no purpose on this Earth. My body assumed a sunken, concave “C” shape when I was alone in my “can” (what we called our rooms in the trailers in Al Asad, Iraq). This space was large enough for a single bed, a closet, and a yoga mat.

Although I began sporadically practicing yoga in college to deal with overtraining injuries from soccer and ROTC, it was nothing more than creative cross-training to me until I was in Iraq. Without even consciously processing the higher transformation that was taking place within me, when I was emotionally distraught, yoga gave me clarity. The simple, basic union of breath and movement made space for something very important – my soul. Somehow, when I felt like I was suffocating, my soul had space to breathe. Somehow, in a body experiencing very physical effects of depression, when I practiced yoga, I had less pain. Somehow, in a world that felt like 24-7 chaos, the mat gave me an anchor point. All of my systems integrated in a way that allowed me to keep functioning when simply surviving seemed impossible.

Thank God for that floor space 3 by 6 feet because it is where I found a place where I could simply breathe without suffocating. I would get on my yoga mat and things would change. I could breathe. I could think. If I were lucky, things would release. I would stretch, and then I would run and feel free.

Stretch.

Breathe.

Move.

Breathe.

Live.

Breathe.

Connect … connect … connect If I were lucky, I would connect; first to something beyond myself, then to those around me, for I certainly was not the only one going through what I was going through. When I realized that – that my lack of “specialness” was actually a blessing in this case – the accessibility to healing became greater, deeper, and more diverse.

Yoga and faith bridged the gap and paved a path to long-term healing for me.  Certainly, different methods work for different people at different times, but yoga can be a unique and powerful approach to comprehensive, holistic healing and we are fortunate to have the data to back this intuitive feeling up.

Sarah Plummer, author of this article will be one of the keynote speakers at the Military Member to Civilian Summit, in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. This conference ,dedicated to the process of transition ,will be held at the Bryant Conference Center on December 1-3, 2014. Follow us on FacebookTwitterPinterest and visit our website for more info and news about veteran careers, veterans issues and the transition process.

Article by Sarah Plummer, keynote speaker at the Service Member to Civilian Summit, author, Certified Health Coach, RYT-500, and former Marine Corps Officer.  Sarah serves as a board member on the Military Advisory Committee for Service Women’s Action Network

Sarah Plummer