Because I Need Your Help...

Last year my goal was to read 52 books. I reached that early in the year, so I upped the number to 100. Lo and behold, I ended up reading 150. Yowza. I read a lot of good books and I read a lot I could have done without.

That said, I have decided this year I will focus on my writing. I don't consider myself a "writer" per se, but this blog has helped me as an outlet to my thoughts, feelings, opinions, etc., ever since a friend suggested I blog during one of Adam's deployments in 2007.

So, here's my problem ... I'm not very good at coming up with what to write unless given a prompt. I once took a writing class in college and I hated it. Why? Because the whole semester we had to come up with our own ideas of what to write for each paper. I loved working at the newspaper because I was told what to write about.

This is where y'all come in. What would YOU like to see me write about? If you know me, you know I don't have a problem voicing opinions or feelings (to a certain extent). I refuse to be negative though, so that's off the table. I've slowly turned myself from a pessimist to an almost optimist. I've found it's a lot easier to be happy if I'm not always crapping on everything. I've learned to appreciate the little things, the things that make me happy (books, hoarding candles, and fabric softener that smells really good).

Let 'er rip ... "Erin, you should write about _________."

Thanks!

Because I Was 19 Once...

I've seen a lot of articles and books lately where people write letters to their teenaged selves (they're now "grown-ups"). The more I thought about it, the more I realized I wanted to write my 19-year-old self a letter. Technically, I was a teenager, but that was one of the worst years of my life. Now, at the incredibly young age of 37, I am going to write myself a letter and go back 18 years.





Dear Erin,


What a year. Remember your 19th birthday, when the world was wide open, and you had plans for how the future was going to be? Your heart was whole. Sure, you had experienced pain and loss, but this, I promise you, will not break you.





It's scary to lose 13 pounds in two months because you cannot eat. I know it feels like the world is ending. There seems to not be any kind of future. Where do you go from here? Why, all of a sudden, does it seem like the whole world is crumbling around you?





This is a chance to learn. It doesn't feel like a learning experience right now - it feels like shit. Don't lose hope. Take this opportunity to remember who was there for you, because chances are, they will always be there for you. True friends will lop off your hair because you ask them to, because they know you are in pain and are doing what you need to to free yourself from that pain, one hair at a time.





ERIN - that guy, really? What the fuck are you thinking? You're not. You are looking for someone to pay attention to you, to love you again. But really, Erin, paying attention to you by ripping a phone out of the wall so you can't call for help isn't love. Threatening to bash in your windshield with your brother's bat while you are driving? He needs help. RUN, run fast, and run far. You know you are worth more than that.





It's scary to lose your way in life. Remember all those hours of playing Life (the board game) and how you got to choose different paths? This is one of those times. There is always another path.





Do not lose your fearlessness. This year will make you realize how utterly shitty life can be, but it will also make you realize, eventually, how very strong you are, and as you get older, you will become that much stronger in every way imaginable. You will do things you never thought possible.





I'm sorry, Erin, that this year happened. But I'm not. Because in time, you will look back at it and realize that this was the year you became you. Never stop learning, never stop dreaming, and most of all, never become someone who others think you should be - just be you. Remember when Lynne told you that you'd always be called "cute" and you just rolled your eyes? It works out when you're in your late 30s and still getting carded, kiddo.





Love,


Me





Can you believe this was all because the kids from Beverly Hills 90210 graduated from high school and I was heartbroken? Just some humor, in case my writing touched you that much and you're weeping into your hanky.





This was amazingly cathartic. Take some time, and write yourself a letter. Pick an age that was difficult for you. Let it all out.

Because this is why I love Christmas...

Picture it: Christmas morning, 2004. Addison is 5 years old, and is up at the butt crack of dawn to open his presents. Within minutes, the phone is ringing. It's Adam, who will listen as Addison tears into what Santa brought him. I listen along with him, watching our son, with tears in my eyes. Adam is deployed. It's our first Christmas that our family isn't together.

Picture it: Christmas 2007. Reference above paragraph. Same Christmas, different year.

I'm a Christmas freak. I have no problem letting anyone know. This is my way of letting everyone know exactly why I love Christmas.

In 2004, my best friend Ely's fiance was also deployed. In an effort to make it fun, we wore pajamas, tiaras, and feather boas all day long. We drank mimosas and had tacos for Christmas dinner. Even though our men were overseas, we did our best to enjoy the holiday. We didn't try to re-create what Christmas would be like if they were there, because they were not there.

I put on a brave face for Ely and Addison. But it wasn't the same. It was glaringly apparent that Adam wasn't there. I made it through the day, but it wasn't easy. It was a bittersweet day. I was able to spend it with my son and my best friend.

We're a military family from Massachusetts. We live in Georgia. We aren't able to just jump in the car and be at grandma's house, or an aunt, uncle, or cousin. At the holidays, and every other day, our military friends are our family.

I admit, I felt sorry for myself on those two Christmas days without Adam. I also know that there are families who will never enjoy a Christmas with their loved one again, whether they died fighting for our country, from an illness, accident, etc. I knew I was lucky that Adam was alive and well.

This Christmas, Ely, her husband, and her son (my godchild) will be spending Christmas here at our home. They will fly from Utah to Georgia, and spend a glorious week with us. I am beyond excited. I haven't seen Ely in three long years. I miss her terribly.

Any year Adam is home is a special Christmas for our family. We do not take it for granted. So, if I gush a little (or a lot) about Christmas, let it be. It's a special day for us all.

Because this gets my panties in a wad...

I'm a mother, a wife, a sister, a daughter, etc. I'm a woman, obviously. And this is what's got me pissy lately:

If I was new to this country, just woke from a coma, or something along those lines, I would garner from commercials that all moms drive mini-vans, wear khakis with cardigans (or, God forbid, Mom jeans), and think that their kids' shit doesn't stink. Wives are often portrayed as nagging shrews - why can't a dude change his daughter's diaper while discussing the football game with his buddy on speakerphone? Why can't a guy sit down and watch a football game on Sunday without his wife/girlfriend giving him a hard time?

I drive a Jeep. I have one child. I watch football, hockey, soccer, baseball, NASCAR, you name the sport, I'm most likely watching it. My adult drink of choice is beer.

I'm in no way saying I'm better than those women. I'm just different from them. There are others like me, some I'm lucky enough to call friends. But you will not catch me posting about Grey's Anatomy on Facebook, because I don't watch it. I'm more likely to be watching any old show I can (Charlie's Angels, The Brady Bunch, Three's Company).

So, advertising companies, listen up - not all moms fall into your stereotypical neat little packages. We're all different, we parent our children differently, we don't all watch the same shows or wear the same clothes. So there.

Because today can be gone ...

Today has been tough. I'm feeling lonely and depressed, the first day I have through all of this deployment. It's been almost two months, so I see that as a good thing, a silver lining.

It's extremely hard for me on holidays. With the 4th of July coming up, I see on Twitter and Facebook all the plans others are making with friends and family. My best girlfriend in town is leaving tomorrow for a month. Well then, just make your own plans, Erin, you might say. Thing is, whatever Addison and I do, it's always glaringly apparent that Adam isn't there. When there's just three of you, and one isn't there, we both feel it. So while I don't want to sit around feeling sorry for myself, it's also kind of sad when we do fun stuff.

But, tomorrow I will wake up and shake this. We'll figure out something to do. Because, I know, in the back of my mind, we're incredibly lucky to have Adam be healthy and alive.

Because I'm holding tight...

In two weeks, I will be the mother of a 12-year-old boy. I'm not one of those moms who declare, "Where did the time go? They grow up so fast!" No shit. I'm well aware of every day that passes, every minute, every hour.

Addison found a dictionary given to him at school a few years ago last week. It said, "To the Class of 2017." Wait, what? That's in seven years. Seven years may seem like a long time to most, but for me, I have exactly seven years left to make the most of every second with him. He's my only child. I have one shot to make him a productive member of society, to teach him manners, to nurse him through his first broken heart, to teach him everything he needs to know before venturing out into the world on his own.

Though I wish Adam didn't have to deploy, I am a realist at certain times. This is my time to spend with Addison, to make memories with just me and him. I want him to look back someday and remember that although Dad was deployed, Mom tried her hardest, we had fun, we laughed, we cried, we bonded. I have no doubt Addison will always be close to Adam and I. He's a good kid. But I also feel him beginning to test his independence. The upcoming teen years will be hard. The day he gets his license and drives off on his own I will be a wreck.

But I won't worry about that now. I have a few years left to cherish this time, to grab every day by the balls and make each and every day special.

Because I believe in signs...

I often have dreams where my relatives who have died visit me. After my aunt died, I had a dream that we were sitting at a table together at some sort of function, and she said to me, "It's okay that you didn't go to my funeral." I had the flu so entirely bad I spent the day before her funeral, at my son's baptism, on the floor in the priests' room. I was too sick to go to her funeral, and felt bad about it. Her coming to me in my dream made me feel a lot better, and I truly believe she came to me specifically, in my dreams, to let me know that.

I've had several including my beloved grandfather. They are always fun, and I appreciate him coming into my dreams.

Last night, however, was different. I was getting ready to go on a boat trip. I met up with a red-haired man. The man I met was Jason Dahlke. Jason died in Afghanistan in August of 2009 while on a mission. He was one of my husband's Soldiers. I never met him. I have heard many great things about him as a person, and hearing and reading about him makes me know I missed out on knowing an extraordinary man.

I knew it was Jason in my dream. I can't recall everything, except I instantly liked him. Not romantically, mind you. He has a beautiful wife. We were instant friends. I offered him some sort of clothing to take on the boat. Then he went and got a jean jacket that was lined with lambswool to take with him. At the last minute, I decided against going on the boat, because of a warning of rough seas and my tendency towards seasickness. I made Jason promise to keep in touch through the boat ride, and that we would meet up again when he got back.

I woke up not knowing how to feel. I feel honored that Jason came to me in my dream. I felt the need to share this, to see if anyone had any other ideas. I like to think that this means that Jason and his fellow comrades are looking down and taking care of Adam and his men, currently deployed.

Thank you, Jason. I feel, in a small way, that we have met. You really are extradordinary.