Stage 10: Sweet Revenge

         Not many songs bring me to tears, but when I first heard Carrie Underwood’s album title song, Blown Away, I was crying like a little girl. The emotion she portrays and delivers is phenomenal. The story line of the song is about a girl who is caught in a devastating storm. She leaves her father, an abusive and alcoholic man, passed out on the couch to receive his sweet revenge and be taken by the storm. The song not only makes me grateful to be part of such a loving and caring home, but also makes me realize that my life isn’t really all that bad. I’ve gone through my share of shit, but at the end of the day I am still breathing and alive.

            I feel that I have grown more in the past month that I have in my entire 21 years on this Earth. I am more confident in myself than I have ever been. Why does something so heartbreaking eventually make someone more confident and stronger? Does it take pain, suffering, and heartbreak to build a backbone? Like the girl in Carrie’s song, nobody knows what she went through, but she had the courage to let the person that hurt her so be consumed by a storm.  The scars of my past are going to remain with me forever, why should I fight the fact they are going nowhere? Now, I am not considering myself to be a bitchy or stuck-up person now, but I know what to look for now and I finally know what I want. Fortunately for me, those that had the dumb, naïve, and innocent Hillary created a woman that a man actually has to work for. Having confidence in an invigorating thing, I don’t feel like I have to just go with something because someone told me to. I am walking with pride and not fear of messing up or disappointing someone. I don’t feel like everything is my fault anymore. I am finally allowing myself to live by my own rules instead of everyone else’s.

            What is a better way to deliver sweet revenge than by being happy? People have tried to keep me down, blame me for things that were never my fault, and made me feel worthless. My smile faded, but it came back. I forgot how to laugh, but it came back. I have finally become Hillary. Those that hurt me in end have helped me. Their goal was to make me feel shitty and they did, but they didn’t keep me down for long.

I have finally moved pass my “every man is an asshole stage”. Of course, there are the assholes out there, but I don’t have to deal with their shit if I don’t want to. I used to think that, “ well, they treat me a bad and make me feel terrible about myself, but they really are a good person inside.” WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING?! This ain’t no Beauty and the Beast shit. If a guy is an asshole, he’s an asshole, that’s the end of the story; love, devotion, and hope aren’t going to get him out of his beastly outer coat. Why Disney created such a terrible story line for little girls to this day confuses and frankly pisses me off. Trust me Walt, I waited around and went through hell for multiple guys to shake off being a beast and guess what…. I was fucked over by every single one of them.

Not every man out there is an asshole. I have had the privilege of meeting one of those fair few that actually has a beating heart in his chest. Someone that actually asks me how I’m doing and what I enjoy to do in my off time: someone that is actually interested in me and not just my tits and ass. At first, I was terrified of him. Thoughts like, “What does this guy want? He is way too nice. Is this some sort of game? Why has this dude not tried getting frisky with me yet?” went through my mind. I thought he had some sort of hidden agenda in the back of his mind. I was completely confused. Then after a while I started to think,” Maybe this person actually likes me. Maybe this is how it has supposed to be. Maybe I finally caught a keeper.” I’m going to take this one differently, I am going to actually take my parent’s advice and go slow; I am done rushing only to fall. Something this good doesn’t happen all the time. The best thing about this guy is that I wasn’t looking. I was still in “every dude is an asshole” stage and he is one of the reasons why I got out of it. Along with this whole growing a backbone part of my life, I have also realized that I am more than a piece of ass. It is entirely possible for a guy to actually like who you are and not what is in your pants. It was an amazing to finally grasp that! Don’t ask me why it took so long for me to finally realize that, but better late than never right? After being treated as such for so long, I began to believe it. A good ass falling finally got me in my place and knocked some sense into my brain.

When I tell my stories to people, they always say, “ I am so sorry”.  From now on, I’m going to tell them to not feel sorry for me, but to feel sorry for them.

Stage 10 in the Journey of Unexpecting the Unexpected.

P.S: I totally watched Beauty and the Beast after I finished this post…

Stage 9: The End…. Or The Beginning?

           Sorry for taking such a long break between posts, but after this you will all hopefully understand.

            As many of you probably already know, Joe and I’s relationship ended in April. Since then I have moved back to Sitka and am starting my life all over again. If you are looking for the saucy details this is not the place.

He remembered his momma :) 

            I am not going to lie when I say that I saw an end coming to Joe and my relationship and I am fairly certain that he would say the same thing. I will also not lie by saying that I wanted to go crazy country female singer and take my Louisville slugger to his headlights, but I contained myself and steered clear of getting a criminal record to my name. The one person I can thank the most for helping contain myself is my second mother, GeeGee. This woman took me under her wing when I needed it the most. The first thing she told me before asking for the details on the break-up was, “ well honey, God has a plan for you. You don’t know what it is right now and things suck, but he does. You just have to wait and see.”  She defiantly put me in my place and made sure the crazy ex-girlfriend didn’t come out thankfully.

            Things weren’t perfect and I didn’t go on with my life instantaneously after the break up. My best friend was alcohol for a solid week. I hardly ate and it is safe to say that I probably would have been put on some sort of pill if I sought mental help.

            It wasn’t the end of my engagement to Joe that was so upsetting to me, but the fact that my life had taken a clean slate. It was the fact that I was going home without my job or my car. It was that I didn’t know how to function in a family environment after being away in such a secluded area. It was that I didn’t know if my dog would remember who I was. I was going home because I had nowhere else to go, what was left of my entire life disappeared in the matter of four words, “things aren’t working out.” I had lost everything, my fiancé, my job, my car, basically my entire life.

With every new start comes a new hair cut :) 

            I was left with wondering. Wondering what would be home when I got back. Wondering if I would be as successful was I was before I left. Wondering if I would be ok. A clean slate is something that most would look forward to, for me, it scared the absolute sh** out of me. My slate was fine. I was on the road to being successful and independent before all this happened.

            My first couple weeks at home, I honestly  don’t remember. Most of my days were spent sleeping. I managed to gain the weight I had lost and am trying to contain myself from gaining too much weight. I hated men, all men, even the ones that treated me nicely. I would see a man that I have known my whole life and in my mind would say, “you seem nice on the outside, but really you’re an a**hole.” I am trying to come across as not being bitter, but I that is the best term for me at the time. When I would wallow in my sorrow, I would remember what GeeGee told me in that God has a plan for me. Life may absolutely suck right now, but He has some plan for me and waiting it out is the hardest thing that I am facing. I am trying to remind myself that my break-up wasn’t the end of my life; it is only my new beginning.

Stage 9 in the Journey of Unexpecting the Unexpected. 

School Work

Hello Everyone, this post doesn't necessarily pertain to my topic of Joe and I's journey at Walter Reed, but the reason why I created this blog was part of my course work at Kaplan University. So the following post is part of my school work requirements. Enjoy!

To see my YouTube video on how social media can affect your life visit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LKycPoQeCoE&feature=youtu.be


Microblog Posts: See my Twitter account and follow me if you'd like! https://twitter.com/#!/hillaryreneem (You can also find the link in my profile :)


1 )want to start a personal podcast webpage? Check outhttp://www.buzzsprout.com/ A pay as you go service for your personal needs in podcasting.


2) Add a picture to a blog! If you are using Blogger there is a "insert image" link at the top. Adjust the size and place where you like :)


3) Interested in writing a podcast? Check out this site! It gives great information on how to plan and prepare a podcast! http://www.how-to-podcast-tutorial.com/00-podcast-tutorial-four-ps.htm






Thank you all for reading my blog!


Hillary

Stage 8: First Steps

First time standing

             None of us remember our first steps. Yes, we have home videos and pictures, but our parents or those that were around us at the time that we took those first remarkable steps will remember that feeling of accomplishment for us. On Monday, March 26, 2012, I witnessed the love of my life take his first steps for the second time. At first, my eyes started tear up when I saw him stand and start walking, but then I started to laugh. I swear to God that I love Joe with all my heart, but he looked just like Bambi when he started to walk. His legs were wobbly and his steps were small then big, big then small. Even though I couldn’t help but laugh, that was truly one of the proudest moments in my life. All the heartache, confusion, days of waiting, and seeing him go through so much pain in those first few weeks seemed to just fade in my memory.   

            Joe doesn’t show his emotions often, but I could see in his face that at that very moment that he stood and walked that he was the happiest he has been in a couple months. He was glowing. Everything about his posture showed how happy he was. I hadn’t seen him that happy since October when we saw each other for the first time in over two years.    Since then, he has been more loving and affectionate towards me, which of course I absolutely love! I think that milestone really affected everything about out daily living; we wake up happier, we kiss each other in public; we eat dinner sitting by each other rather than far apart.

First Steps

            My birthday is the 27^th of March, the day after his first steps. I wasn’t expecting much from him in terms of gifts, he hasn’t left base and we both didn't have much time to really think about my birthday. His sister and her friend came down for the week to celebrate with us. It was so nice to see them and have them here to be part of his first steps and my 21^st birthday. I did get the greatest gift from Joe though, his gift was those Bambi-like first steps and on the afternoon of my birthday, we were sitting and having a conversation with Cory in the hallway about our lives here at Walter Reed. It was a random spot, but it was a great time. Towards the end, we started to stand up and get ready to head back to our rooms. Joe pulled me over and put both his hands on my cheeks, which is something that he usually does because I have huge cheeks. This time it was different though, he looked deep into my eyes. He was looking so deep that I could feel him looking for my thoughts within my mind. Then he kissed me on the cheek, nothing more, just a simple kiss on the cheek. It was the perfect moment.

            

Stage 8 in the Journey of Unexpecting the Unexpected

Stage 7: I Miss Afghanistan

My soldier

Joe finally opened up to me today about his anxiety and depressive thoughts. He and his dad had a very long, much needed, conversation this afternoon. I have found that a conversation between two men, especially two military men, often produce more progressive outcomes compared to conversations between a man and a woman. I have countlessly asked Joe to open up to me and let me in on his thoughts, but with his stubborn demeanor, he didn’t. It only took his dad one time saying, “ Joe do this”, for him to open up. These are the times that I wish I were born with a penis, so then when I say, “do this”, and he will actually do what I’m asking.

The conversation between him and I started like this, “ I told my dad why I’ve been feeling so anxious and stuff and told him about how I miss Afghanistan.” The look on my face must have been priceless when I heard the words “ I miss Afghanistan” come out of his mouth. At first I was angry when he said that. Why on Earth would he miss getting shot at each day? Why would he miss not having running water everyday? Why would he miss not having a homemade dinner every night? Why would he miss not waking up next to me every morning? So, instead of asking him those questions right off the bat, I let him continue with his explanation. “ I miss the adrenaline rush of getting shot at. I miss sitting in the brush wondering what is going to happen. I miss my friends the most. I miss going back to the tent after a long day of usually doing stupid stuff and shooting the shit with them afterwards. Ya that is what I miss the most.” So, I asked to continue the flow of his story, “ do you think that would be different if you came home with them at the same time?” (All of his friends came home earlier this month; I am SO glad that they are all reunited with their families and friends). “Ya, probably. I didn’t get the same welcome home festivities that they did. I told them that I would be there with them and I wasn’t.” He continued telling me all the things he missed about the war stricken country that he lived in for so long. I tried to put in my input, but he just kept letting his feelings flow out and just sat and listened to the story of my soldier.

      This story and explanation on his feelings didn’t go the way I thought it would. I thought that his feelings revolved around his physical condition and the future of his career. I never once thought that it was that he missed Afghanistan. The experiences on the battlefield and the bond between Joe and his fellow warriors are something that I will never feel, so I think that is why I never considered the possibility of him missing the place that sent him back broken.

Joe and his friends on Christmas

            When he was finished and we went back up to our room, a friend of his that was injured late last year came and our new neighbor Cory, came by the room to visit us. He is also a below the knee amputee on his right leg and broke his femur in the same leg like Joe. Watching and listening to the conversation between two soldiers is something that I have come to really enjoy. Half of the terms they use, I don’t understand or know what they mean, but it is a special language of their own. Talking about being blown up and the struggles they face as wounded warriors gives me insight to what is really going for Joe that I don’t see. I don’t talk a lot when Joe and Cory are conversing, mainly because half the words that come out of their mouth I don’t know the meaning of and because the moments that they are have are only obtainable by soldiers.

            The things I see and the people I meet here on a daily basis continue to amaze me. Before Joe told me his story today, he and I met a young couple outside our building and once again, the two soldiers started up a conversation. Joe explained his situation and injuries, then the other told his. “I’m the only one that survived when I got hit.” My heart sank right when he said it. “One of my guys was decapitated. The other two were basically torn in half and the guy next to me smashed his head.” The words came out of his mouth almost with ease. I didn’t know what to say to this man, so I didn’t say anything at all. 

Joe and his friend Nate 

            The effects of this war were totally unknown to me before Joe and I got back together. I didn’t know about Walter Reed. I knew that soldiers were losing limbs, but I didn’t know everything else that encompassed what it all totally meant and the stories behind the individuals that it happened to. During the day, I see soldiers around the hospital and the apartment building with one remaining limb, scars all over their bodies, carrying their prosthetics limbs on the back of their wheelchairs, falling during their physical therapy tasks, and struggling to do the things that I do on a daily basis. At first, I filled my mind with sad, depressing thoughts for these soldiers and felt so bad for them and their plights. Then as the days went by and I really looked at the whole picture, I realized that most of these soldiers also have smiles on their face and the determination to get back on their metal legs after falling.

            Joe missing Afghanistan is something that I will never fully understand, but I am not a soldier. What he has seen and the experiences he had in Afghanistan are things that I will never see or experience first hand, but what I do see and experience is what it has sent back everyday. Before Walter Reed, I thought that I knew what I was getting into by reuniting with my soldier, but in the past couple weeks I have realized that I have only just begun the process of understanding.

Stage 7 in the Journey of Unexpecting the Unexpected. 

Stage 6: Rejuvenation

Before coming to Maryland, I never realized how much I love staring at a full moon: the glow against the dark night sky. The other night, after I got done doing a couple days worth of dishes, a load of laundry, and gave Joe his pills; I walked towards our bedroom and I saw a full moon perfectly centered in the middle of our window. I froze and stared out my window like I did when I was young and dreamed of being an astronaut. My mind went completely blank. I stopped thinking about the chaos that had become my life.

 Peace.

 The days before I stared at the moon, I felt stuck in the dark. I was physically here, but my mind was in a thousand different places. Am I doing a good job? Am I the best person for Joe right now? Will I be able to last? Can I do this? Those are few of the many questions that crossed my mind. There were moments where I just sat. I did absolutely nothing, but sit on my a** is my uncomfortable chair in the living room and try to wrap my head around everything that was happening.

This situation has changed both Joe and I in more ways that I can describe. We had been apart for so long that living with each other has had awkward moments and often times feel like we are at the dating stage all over again. I sometimes feel like I am living and in love with a complete stranger. We are able to communicate with each other face to face rather than over Facebook or Skype, which has been our life over the past year. Now, I can feel his skin against mine, I can run my hand through his hair, I can hear his heart beat when I lay my head on his chest, but what the war has sent back to me hasn’t quite become my Joe yet. Before I stared at the moon that night, I had the thought in the back of my mind that he wasn’t going to come back to me…ever.

Over the next couple days, signs of him coming back started happening. He started asking for kisses, when I hugged him he hugged me back, he thanked me for bringing him a ginger ale. The lines of communication are reappearing in our lives. We have been laughing and joking with each other like we used to when we were love-stuck 17 year olds.

Everything was slowly starting to come back, but there are moments when it looks like we are going to fall apart again and that distant stranger will be back in my life. I would freak out when that fear of the stranger struck my body and I would dart my head in every direction for an escape route like a bird. I would walk away from him and he would usually stay outside for a minute. I know it was completely wrong of me, but I was in completely flight mode. I flew away. I just wanted to run far, far away from everything. I was so ashamed by the time I got back to the apartment that I would just sit on the couch and wait for him to get back with my head hung like a puppy that just made a mess. When he would get back, I would be silent with my tail between my legs and not say anything to him, afraid that I would invite the stranger back into my life.  The awkward silence would pass when either her or I would comment on the stupidity of the people on whatever TV show was on at the moment and the fear of the stranger coming back would start to fade away.  

The happiest moment of my life: the first time seeing him in 2 years. 

I know most have you have seen the movie The Notebook. Now, I don’t want to say that Joe and I’s relationship is exactly like that of Ali and Noah’s in the story, but we have similarities. We fight all the time about stupid stuff. We are pretty much inseparable. We love each other with all our hearts. We were separated unwillingly by uncontrollable reasons and found our way back to each other when that never seemed possible. You know the part where Ali is in the nursing home because of her Alzheimer’s and how Noah stands by her side even though he really has nothing wrong with him? Well, I am just a woman sticking by my man’s side even though he sometimes is a complete stranger to me because he is my home and heart.

“That's my sweetheart in there. Wherever she is, that's where my home is.”

–Noah, from The Notebook

I have to remind myself that he is in there still; I am just working on getting him out and trying my best to get him physically fixed. We got him out of the immobilizer this week and are starting to get bend back into his left leg, which is a total relief. He is gaining more degrees in bend in his right leg every day and has been told in about a month, he will be able to start bearing weight on his legs and begin the process of learning how to walk again.

The moon is now my sign rejuvenation. Its glow shows me that even though things look hopeless, there is light that breaks through the dark.

Stage 6 in the Journey of Unexpecting the Unexpected. 

Stage 5: Dear John

             This morning I decided to watch the movie Dear John. Stupid idea. Why I decided to watch that movie this morning is something I’m still trying to figure out. I had never seen the movie before this morning and thought “hey, I have the morning to myself because Joe is still sleeping and I am tired of watching the Discovery channel or war films; a good chick flick sounds nice.” Of course I chose the tearjerker about a war torn couple. It stars Channing Tatum (John) as a special forces soldier and Amanda Seyfried (Savannah) as his girlfriend he meets while on leave. They decide to write each other letters while he is away to stay in contact and keep their relationship alive while thousands of miles away from each other. He tells her that he has one more year left in the Army and that he will be done after that year. He promises her that he will be back. Then September 11^th happened and changed everything for them.

While watching this film, I thought a lot about my life with Joe. When they hugged and kissed each other before he left, I remembered how it felt when I left New Jersey: our last hug and kiss for months. When he returned, I remembered how it felt to see him in uniform in the airport for the first time in two years. When he told her he was going back, I remembered the last Skype conversation we had before he left for Afghanistan after his R&R. When he got shot, I remembered how it felt to get the 5 am phone call from Marissa. Overall, this film was a reminder of my life up to this point within the first 45 minutes. I cried for the first half of the movie because I knew the exact feelings that they were trying to portray.

Granted a MAJOR difference in the film and my life was that she eventually broke things off with him, which was a turning point for me in the film where I no longer enjoyed it and watched the rest of it angry over that fact that she was so stupid. She should have known what she was getting herself into by starting a relationship with a soldier. She had it in her mind that he was going to get out of the Army a year after his leave, but as I have quickly learned the military lifestyle doesn’t always go the way it was supposed to or was planned to. If it went the way it was supposed to and the way I had planned, Joe would be coming back this week in perfect condition. Life doesn’t always go the way as planned, especially in the military.

Savannah didn’t realize what she was getting into. She saw a charming hunk with no shirt on running on the beach with a surfboard. He loved her and she loved him. He comes back to her for a short amount of time after September 11^th before he reenlisted, without telling her that was his intent, she throws a fit and eventually goes with his plan to stay with his guys and return overseas, she had no real choice. The decision is obviously not easy for him either because he wants to be with her just as much as she wants to be with him, but he has his responsibilities to his men, his job, and his country. I wish with all my heart that Joe had stayed with me here instead of going back. I wish with all my heart that Joe never got hurt over there, but I knew what I was getting into and knew that this all was a possibility.

Dear John is a book written by tearjerker extraordinaire Nicholas Sparks and that the film was made primarily to make a profit and make girls across the country cry, but for those of us that live it and wait for our men to come back it was a lot more than that. It was a reminder of what our life is about and the men that we love with all our heart. We write letters and stare at the moon knowing that halfway around the world they are looking at it too. We live our lives not knowing what is going to happen next or if they are going to come home in one piece or at all. We remember our last hug and kiss before they get on the plane knowing that we won’t get that feeling again until that long awaited moment when we finally see them in the airport and all those days spent waiting are only a memory.

Stage five in the Journey of Unexpecting the Unexpected. 

Stage 4: Hello, My Name is Overwhelmed

Overwhelmed: verb (used with object)

1.

to overcome completely in mind or feeling: overwhelmed by remorse.

2.

to overpower or overcome, especially with superior forces; destroy; crush: Roman troops were overwhelmed by barbarians.

3.

to cover or bury beneath a mass of something, as floodwaters, debris, or an avalanche; submerge: Lava from erupting Vesuvius overwhelmed the city of Pompeii.

4.

to load, heap, treat, or address with an overpowering or excessive amount of anything: a child overwhelmed with presents; to overwhelm someone with questions.

5.

to overthrow.

Overwhelmed. That’s what people have been telling me that is what I am feeling at the multiple appointments we have been to thus far since Joe was discharged from the hospital, every single nurse, doctor, therapist, and others have used this term to describe my life right now. The third definition is the tense of which they are saying I am overwhelmed, I am being loaded, heaped, and treated by many with excessive amounts of: appointments, questions, names, locations, terms, etc. I politely shake my head yes and move on. Overwhelmed doesn’t quite seem to fit the entirety of what I am feeling. Maybe I should suggest that they add to their list of terms on what I am feeling: anxious, exhausted, lost, and confused: like I have been on a merry-go-round for 48 hours straight. Although the term overwhelmed fits my current situation, it doesn’t encompass the extent of the feelings I am feeling.

Did I think that I would be “overwhelmed” when I got here, of course I did, but did I think it would be to this extent, HELL NO. This experience has put me in a place that I have never been in before. Having to keep track of appointments other than my own, having to push a wheelchair with my man in it that weighs more than I do miles on end, then at the end of the day getting my school work done, cooking dinner, and giving him shots: those things I guess I just didn’t think of during my dream of moving and living in a place with the love of my life. Life sure threw me a hard reality check. When I played house with my sister as a kid, I envisioned a beautiful home with my husband where we lived and loved each other forever and ever. Dreams don’t come true. There are clothes all over the floor, dishes in the sink that I still haven’t done, and the beds aren’t made; yes Joe and I still love each other and will forever and ever of course.

Discharge day was an incredible day; we were finally getting Joe out of the hospital and into the apartment for good. I thought we were going to walk out of the hospital, go back to the apartment and relax. WAY WRONG. We had to meet about 3 different people, get their information, report to his squad leader, get his meds (which took about a half hour wait), and fill out paperwork out the wazoo. Relax, what a silly girl to think that I would ever get a real chance to sit and relax.

Throughout this whole experience people have been telling me “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle”. I don’t know what God was thinking when he threw me this because I have multiple moments during the day where my mind races and tells myself that I can’t do this, there is absolutely no way I can do this. I am a 20-year-old college student who hardly knows how to take care of myself. My “selfish” moments are what I call them. Where my mind races about how this is affecting me, but finally God sneaks his way back into my head and reminds me that this isn’t about me, it’s about Joe. Take care of Joe; that is my purpose here as of now. Who knows what my purpose will be after he his discharged from the hospital, we will just have to wait and see.

I don’t know how many of you have had these moments with a loved one whether that is a your child, spouse, boyfriend/girlfriend, or friend, but when you can look at them and you just know that something isn’t right. They are acting in their normal ways, saying their normal things, but there is something else there that isn’t usually there. I have that connection with Joe. I can look at him, read his face and I knew there was something not right. He wasn’t eating the way he normally does, he was sleeping restlessly and sometimes not at all, and he was oddly quiet. Now, Joe isn’t the type to come out and spill his feelings and thoughts to someone. I knew that something wasn’t right and instead of drilling questions and asking him “what’s wrong” every ten minutes like I really wanted to, I let him do things the way he wanted to. I think that he has a persona that he feels like he has to hold in front of me, which I assume is common amongst most men and didn’t communicate his anxious thoughts with me. Finally, at about 9:30 at night he told me he needed to go to the ER because he felt he was having a panic attack and wanted something to help him sleep. At this ER visit they also informed us that they think that Joe is suffering PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), which is very common amongst people that return from war and/or are wounded.

I have plenty of history with panic attacks. They run in the family and I too have had many ER visits for medicine to help me calm down. What was frustrating to me is that he wasn’t communicating with me, the shock of “take me to the ER now” took me by complete shock, which in turn freaked me out. That is my job here; I came here to be his aide and he is hiding feelings from me. Why is he doing this? Am I upset that he is hiding this feelings and thoughts from me, of course I am. Do I blame him for not sharing some emotions that may seem “unmanly” to me, not at all. All I hope for is that he soon becomes comfortable with telling me these things because it is going to be him and me for the rest of our lives.

One thing that I was very excited about when I was moving down here to live with him was to sleep in the same bed with him again finally. The last time Joe and I slept in the same bed together was in October. Now, I’m not talking about extracurricular bedtime activities in the same bed, but to finally be able to sleep and feel him next to me and not my dog. Then he told me the news; he didn’t want to sleep in the same bed. Automatically, I freaked out. Why doesn’t he want to sleep with me? Does he not like being in the same bed? Then I started thinking about it more and more (I obsessed about it and continue to today) and started to realize that he didn’t kiss me or hug me as much as he used to anymore. He doesn’t call me pet names any more. He hardly tells me he loves me and when I told him that I loved him, I would get a mumble at most as a response. Being heart broken for him over the fact that he is injured and so angry at the world on top of being personally heart broken and scared that I am going to lose him again is an uncomfortable combination. Sometimes I find myself with tears streaming down my cheek and I don’t know if they are tears I’m crying are for myself, him, or both of us.

So far it has been a lonely world here, my only friend and person I really converse with is Joe when he isn’t having one of his moments where he would, rightfully so, just want to be completely alone with his thoughts. I don’t have many friends here on base, but will hopefully meet more as we get more settled here. I wore a hoodie from my high school volleyball team to his appointments one day. The head volleyball coach for the Walter Reed team stopped me and asked if I still played. I said yes and told me to come try it out to see if I would enjoy playing on the team. I haven’t played super competitive volleyball since high school, but played on a city league team in Sitka. I think it will be a good release for me and will give Joe and I a chance to take a little break from each other. We are together all the time, our only alone time is when either of us is taking a pee or showering. Joe thinks I should go for it and agrees that it will be good for me to release the amped up, frustrated, energy I am holding in because I have no where else for it to go. A volleyball will be a great victim. 

At the end of the definition of overwhelmed it states, “ to overthrow”. I hope that eventually I will be able to overthrow my overwhelming feelings. I hope the Joe will overthrow his sad and depressed feelings throughout his rehab. I want to just get rid of them and start to be in a place that is tranquil and peaceful for Joe and I. I hope that these doctors are doing what is right for him and that I will eventually have my Joe, the one that teases me about being short or mixing up my words, the one that kisses me back when I kiss him, the one that pulls me in close in the middle of the night just because I rolled away from him, the one I fell in love with, back.

Stage 4 in the Journey of Unexpecting the Unexpected. 

Stage Three: Strange City, Strange People, Strange Noodles.

“Hillary, when are you coming back?” started the adventure of moving to the east coast. We had originally planned on me living in Sitka for the duration of his rehab to work and make us some money so that when he is discharged completely from the hospital we will have a good financial start. A week later, I got this call from Joe. Everything I had planned was completely turned 360 degrees. My response to him was, “ well hon, when do you want me to come back?” “ Yesterday”, is what he told me. HOLY F***. I told him that I would the best I could and hung up. My mind went racing, what am I going to do with Trigger? What about your car? WHAT ABOUT YOUR JOB? How am I going to manage to pack my whole entire life in the matter of days?  Then after about 20 minutes of my heart pounding out of my chest, I stopped. My mind stopped. I gazed out of my office window and thought of nothing at all. I hit a WALL. For a straight month, my life had been in complete chaos. I forgot what day it was, what month it was; my life consisted of waking up, anxiety pills, trying to get through a work day and actually get something accomplished, and going to bed sometimes as early as 7:45 at night.

 From the time I got home to the time I left again from Maryland, I watched Kung Fu Panda 2 every…. single…. night. Don’t ask me why, but I did. That is where I got the title of this blog. Po, the main character who is a warrior panda, sets out on an adventure to save China and all of Kung Fu because an evil peacock is threating to take it all. Po comes across his father (a goose) and the father tells me to stay home because he is going to “ a strange city, with strange people, and strange noodles.” I feel like Po, the confused panda that has no idea what he is doing, but knows he has to do it. His parent is scared and nervous for him, but he lets his son go out on a big, scary, full of the unknown adventure to do the right thing. I really could relate to that chubby little panda in the movie, so maybe that is why I watched it so much. If that panda can do it, so can I. Granted I’m not saving the world from a evil peacock, but I am going into a world full of strange noodles to do what I need to, the right thing to do.

That weekend, I went into full get sh** done mode. I managed to pack and load up all the boxes I need in the matter of a day. I labeled them and sent them to New Jersey to meet up with Joe’s family where they will soon be reunited with me :) I found a wonderful home for Trigger with two fantastic people that will love him so much, I sold my car, and I was able to keep my job by working remotely on a laptop. Things seemed so chaotic, but in the end it all worked out.

The part that pissed me off the most was waiting for the people who arrange my tickets to do their job. I was supposed to be on my way to Maryland the weekend of the 18^th, but they didn’t get their paperwork done, so I had to wait to the following Tuesday because Monday was President’s Day and nobody would be in their office. When I got the call on Friday the 17^th that I would make it out, I was told, NO PROMISED, that I would be flying out on Tuesday. I told my boss, co-workers, family members and friends that I would be leaving Tuesday.

The weekend passed, Monday passed, and I was ecstatic about my early morning phone call on Tuesday to get my tickets arranged. People over the east coast tend to forget that Alaska if 4 hours behind them, so most of my military calls come between 4 am and 6 am my time. 4 passes, 5 passed, 6 passed, F***!!! So, I decided to call them. “Hello ma’am, my name is Hillary Martin, CPL Joe Mille’s fiancé and I was told on Friday that I would be getting a call this morning to set up my tickets to fly over to Maryland today and I still haven’t gotten a call.” I explained. “uhhhh, ummmm, well, I don’t know what you are talking about Hillary, I have no paperwork of you here.” My jaw hit the floor and I wanted to pick a flight with the girl. After getting a call or text almost every day asking when I’m going to be there and saying, “I will be there Tuesday or Wednesday morning at the latest”, hearing that not only let me down, but would in turn let Joe down. “But the girl on Friday told me that it would all be done TODAY, I have been packed and ready to go for a week to leave today.” I told her. “Well, let me make some phone calls and send out some e-mails and let you know what I find out.”

I get ready for work, even though I told everyone that I wouldn’t be there, and waited for my call. I got to work, explained to everyone what was going on, and started working. Three hours passed and I still did not get my call. NOTE: For those of you that are new to the military as a girlfriend, wife, significant other, etc., get used to HURRYING UP AND WAITING! It sucks huge ones, but you can’t really get them to do things any other way, but their own. So, I took things into my own hands and called her back, “Hi, this is Hillary again, I wanted to know what the status was of my travel.” “Well, Hillary, I called around and talked to some people and no body has seen your orders and I don’t’ know where they are. You might have to wait until THURSDAY”. Again, my jaw hit the floor and I was full or rage. “Well thank you and I will try again tomorrow to see if that changes.”

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! WTF!!!!!!!!!!! JOE WANTS ME THERE NOW AND THEY ARE MESSING UP MY STUFF SO BAD!!!! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO??????

Back to composer. I let my and his family know what is going on and his dad decides to take this into his own hands the next morning. He called multiple people and only got message machines, and then he FINALLY got one gal to answer. He explained my situation. She told him that a majority of the nurse case managers were out of the office at a conference and many wouldn’t be back until later in the week because my information was more than likely just sitting on one of their desks. She told him that she would get things figured out and get the ball rolling.

Our new kitchen

Wednesday in the late morning, I finally got my call and was set to fly out of Sitka that night. My family had signed up to work the basketball game against our biggest rival and were not able to see me off at the airport because we had spent the entire last week thinking that I was leaving that prior weekend. I felt bad because not only had I confused my entire work crew, but also my family which directly affected them seeing me off at the airport, but my grandma, older sister and niece (who were visiting Sitka at the time) came to see me off. I got on the plane and thought to myself “this is really for real happening. I am getting off the rock, I’m going to be living in the continental US, I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m going to have to figure it out fast."

I took an unusual route to get here. Usually, to get down south, we fly through Seattle, this time I flew through Anchorage. My route went: Sitka to Anchorage (2 hours), Anchorage to Chicago (5 hours), Chicago to DC (2 hours). LONG A** DAY. I finally got to DC, but had to take a shuttle to get to Walter Reed. What usually takes about a half hour to get to the hospital from the airport took us almost 2 hours because we had to drop off other random people. I finally got to the hospital and waddled my 4 bags up to his room, since nobody told me where I would stay. One person told me that I would be staying in the apartment they would put Joe and I or that I would be staying in a hotel room. I had no clue and I don’t think that they did either.

our new bathroom :)

            After all the stress, hard work, chaos, confusion, and anxiety attacks; seeing him made all those feelings vanish. I was so happy to see him and finally be there. Even though I didn’t have a place to put my stuff, I didn’t care. I was with my honey and I could really care less about anything else, but I did have things I needed to take care of. I went up to the Family Center (SFAC) and asked about my rooming and financial situation (I get paid daily per diem for being Joe’s NMA). That turned into a mess because I couldn’t be in the apartment without Joe being discharged. I was on the wrong orders at the time because you can only be on NMA orders if the soldier is out of the hospital, and they ended up telling me just to come back the following Monday to figure things out because they didn’t even know what was going on. FUN STUFF!

            Luckily they got me a little room to shower and put my bags for the night and I would be able to put my things in the apartment the next day when Joe got on weekend pass. I dropped my luggage off, showered, and rolled out back to Joe.

Hillary and Joseph's new bed

            Joe’s sister, Marissa, and her friend, Rachel came down from Jersey to help Joe move his stuff to and from his hospital room and get everything situated in the new apartment. It was so nice to have a few extra hands to help him out of the hospital room. I am so thankful that they were there to help him because there is no way I would have been able to do everything all on my own.            

             We needed a lot of things from our apartment. Everything was very blah and not very cozy. The girls and I went to Target and went all out. I got kitchen supplies, food, new bedding, and other nice things to make this apartment feel like home. So far, I enjoy our new little abode, its cozy and perfect for the two of us.

            This strange city, with strange people and strange noodles is going to open my eyes to the world of down south and independence. Leaving the rock is something I have always wanted to do, but never had the courage to. I hope that I have what it takes to not only take care of myself on my own, but to take care of the most important person in my life when he needs it the most.