Back to Normal?

Tomorrow will be 3 months since Micheal’s death. I’m still having nightmares; I still get antsy seeing Bradley play guns and hold the toy the wrong way. But I have Royce home and it’s been an amazing week. I’ve taken the week as a break from everything really. I’ve tried to steer clear of Facebook so much, slacked in picture uploads, and I’ve not blogged. I’ve been trying to get back to normal.

Have I said what an amazing man I married? He may not be perfect, but he’s perfect for me. Let me be frank though. We’ve not had the best relationship, nor is it a fairytale by any means, but it’s the best we can make it and after this week, its heaven to me. We’ve been married a little over 7 years, 2,663 days to be exact. I figured up the numbers on how much time we’ve actually spent together. In our first year of marriage we spent 155 days together. We were only together for 42% of our first year together. In that year we moved to another state, readied for our first deployment, lost our first child before we ever held it in our arms, and lost my uncle. He returned home and being a young couple without children it didn’t take long to get back to normal. But it was 7 months later, after we moved back to Oklahoma to another post, took our nephew in to live with us, and he was assigned to a new unit that had such in experienced command that even I tended to know more then most, that we experienced our first bout of PTSD.

Royce was in an area of Iraq that was so dangerous it was referred to as the triangle of death. He was there at one of the most dangerous times Oct 2005 when the Iraqi’s had their first election. His unit lost 7 men in those 12 months. Royce was friends with some. Even more guys were injured, a good friend of ours at the time sent to another post to heal and recover.  He had a tendency of waking in the night reaching under his pillow and then frantically looking around the room for his weapon. The first few times I tried to help calm him tell him he was home. It did no good. In August after his return home it came to a head. Royce doesn’t remember what happened. I do. He wasn’t the man I married, but he was the man I still loved. Things were said and actions that reminded me of the stuff movies were made of. But let me say this first off, Royce never physically hurt me; thankfully he was able to snap out of it before then. But Dr. did test him to TBI and diagnosed him with PTSD.

Two deployments and another move later, here we are. Today is day 2,663 in our marriage. We’ve been separated by deployment, schooling, and training for a total of 1,388 of those days. We’ve spent 53% of our marriage kissing through the phone and the computer.  He returned home the first of this month.  Nineteen days later I think things for us are getting back to normal, but in a different sense then I thought they might.

We’ve lived in our own little Timmons bubble this past week. Not thinking about much more then each other and the kids. We’ve spent time as a family. I’ve sat back and watched him with the kids and thought “Wow we’re really a whole unit again. Look at those grins on the kids, the even bigger grin on him. This is what I was dreaming of as a kid. This is the happy family in the movies. Wait where is the bad news, the rain for my happy parade?” I’ve sat back all week and it has yet to show up. We’ve managed to just sit and relax. We’ve worked as a team keeping the house cleaned, doing the laundry. He spends more time playing with the kids while I cook. We’ve sat down and eaten our dinner every night as a family. I can sit here right now and smile with a goofy grin of my own while I think about this past week. Have we really gotten back to normal? I didn’t think it would be possible.

Today though looking at the calendar helps me to realize our life together will never be normal. We’ve been through so many test of love, so many losses that they heavily outweigh the good. Today I also see more of this happiness on the horizon. My depression seems less and less. My tears fewer and fewer. Even thinking of the losses over the years I feel a sense of resolve. I don’t think I’m ‘over’ anything, but I’ve reached a point that I won’t let it hold me back from being happy. I want to move on and keep my sense of normalcy, well as normal as we can be in the Army. We have so many things happening in the next 4 months that I want to stay focused and look to the new chapter we get to start when we get to Georgia. So many things to look forward, I have to soldier on.

We have Kenzie’s birthday party next month, which I must say is going to be super exciting and fun to plan. Then a short trip to Oklahoma right after her birthday. Mackenzie and Royce are both happy, seems we timed it perfectly, and turns out its hunting season when we get there. Then we’re planning our first Thanksgiving together as a family in our own home. We won’t’ be traveling for it. Royce will be hunting locally here and I will be shopping. Kenzie’s big enough to babysit Brad right? (Just joking). We are planning to spread the vacation out across Christmas and New years and spend it in Oklahoma I think. Then after the New Year we have about two and half weeks to prep the house to be packed up and loaded on a truck. We are looking to leave this house around the 20^th of January. He has to report to Fort Benning on February 12^th. Goal is to clear post and housing and be in Oklahoma about the 23^rd and then head to Georgia around the 5^th of February so we can find a house before he starts back to work.  Like I said lots going on in the next 4 months.

So getting back to normal. May not seem like that’s what we are doing, but this is normal for us. Playing with the kids in the evening, watching movies on the couch and catching up on the dvr, it’s what is normal for us. Packing and moving yet again, normal for us. Inevitably preparing for another deployment after getting to Georgia, seems possible, and yet normal for us.

This is the life Royce and I’ve chosen, for us and for our children. Yes he’s gone, yes it takes him a bit to get out of NCO Soldier mode, but he’s home and we get to keep him here for a little while at least. We conquer and adapt, it’s our way of life. It’s what I love most about my family.

Getting It Off My Chest

WARNING!!!! Don't read if you don't want to know my true feelings. I won't be held reliable for your own hurt or angered feelings.

So I’ve been asked to remove parts of my blog. Parts specifically relating to my brother’s death. Most of these details can be found in the local newspaper. Why can they be found there? Well because Micheal died in a public place behind a firehouse. Micheal chose his spot. Micheal chose a time when no one would be able to stop him. He didn’t want to be stopped. I don’t know why he wanted to, but he went and he did it. That can’t be denied.

I was told to write it in a journal. I don’t want to write my thoughts and feelings down in a journal. If I did then I wouldn’t have started this at all. Why write at all? I started the blog because I wanted to share with others. Not because I wanted to keep it all bottled up to myself and deal with this alone. Sharing is healing for me and frankly its time I heal.

My husband is home from war. My children are growing. My family is prepping for another move. I need to do this and I need to do this now. I don’t want to go on depressed not dealing with it. I don’t want to walk around and not be able to look at a pack of M & Ms and think of him and want to cry in the middle of the store. Its time I grieve and heal. I can’t wait on others to do this myself. I’m doing it now and I’m doing it for me. I’m not doing it for anyone else anymore. This is for me.

So here’s the warning. I’ll edit my last blog, but I won’t edit any more. You aren’t required to read this. I don’t require anyone to read it. So you can keep your eyes closed, skip over the link, block me completely. Frankly though I’m not going to worry about upsetting anyone else anymore. I’m not going to worry about if something I do or my kids do might upset someone or hurt their feelings.

I have many feelings over what happened with my brother. My strongest of them all is RAGE & ANGER. I’m 27 years old. My husband is in the army and has been to Iraq three times. While we’ve talked and essentially planned out his service in the event that anything should happen, I’ve never truly thought I would ever use those plans. I’ve always thought that the first time I’d ever have to step into a funeral home to make arrangements for a loved one would be for my parents, when I would be at an age that I’d have my own grandchildren. I never thought that I would plan my baby brother’s service. But that’s what I did. I went into that funeral home with my parents, my big brother and his wife, one of my sisters, and my aunt. I went in upset and hurt. I came out angered and feeling a great need to punch someone.

I’ve always taken a great disliking to anyone who upsets my mother. Right or wrong I’ve always taken her side and stood up for her. This was no exception. My mother was hurt beyond belief and I was angered that she was feeling so. Who was I mad at? At that time I’m not sure. I was angry at God maybe. I might have been angry with Micheal. At that time I would have slugged the first person to look at me the wrong way. Now nearly three months later though, I’m angry at Micheal. He chose this. We had no warning, no note to leave behind. No last minute ‘I love yous.’ We are all left in a shambled mess wondering what we could have done to stop it. We are all left blaming ourselves. But I wonder if Micheal really thought about how we all might feel.

I remember telling Micheal that night before that I loved him. He just gave me this look like ‘whatever you just stole a piece of my steak, you’re lucky I don’t smack you.’ He didn’t say to me. And I can’t remember saying anything else to him that night. So I’m left wondering and feeling hurt. I’m left trying to explain to my daughter what happened while trying to preserve her innocence.

So this is me getting this off of my chest. I won’t promise that I won’t say these same things again, but I am warning you that I won’t hold back anymore. I feel the way I feel and I won’t let anyone tell me that I’m wrong for that.

Today is World Suicide Prevention Day~~~EDITTED

Today, September 10, 2011, is World Suicide Prevention Day. September is the month of suicide prevention. Living on a military installation prevention is something that is heavily taught and talked about among the soldiers here. Chain of Command here requires soldiers to take classes and even has a support group or the families in the area whose soldier has committed suicide or attempted to. But Suicide doesn’t just affect our military members. It doesn’t apply to just their families. It can affect anyone and everyone. It has affected me and my entire family, including my children. Was it something we could have prevented? I don’t know anymore. Were there signs? Maybe, but I’m not sure I paid enough attention to recognize them if there were.

I’m including a link to the Suicide Prevention Lifeline Organization that will list the signs. Please if you know someone and think that they need help, please help them. They need to know its okay to feel the way they do, no one will judge them, but we can help them to stop feeling that way. Suicide is not the answer. While it may relief some of the problems they are unable to overcome, it leaves a mess of them for the loved ones left behind.  http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/GetHelp/SuicideWarningSigns.aspx

Now I’m going to share my Story and why this is something dear to my heart today.

I am a Suicide Survivor. No it doesn’t mean I tried to commit suicide and lived, it means my loved one is lost at his own hands, having chosen to leave this world and the rest of us behind. Do I believe Micheal has found peace and is in Heaven with our Lord, and grandmother and grandfathers? My jury is still out on that, but it’s where I tell Kenzie he is. He is in my heart always. The littlest things can remind me of him and bring me to tears. The other day it was the mashed potatoes. The week before it was seeing his shaving stuff in the medicine cabinet while looking for some Motrin.  Today I don’t know what will do it, maybe I’ll get to go the day without the tears. I never know.

Being a survivor comes at a cost though. I’ve dealt with things I never thought I would. I’ve searched for answers that still go unanswered. My children cling to photos just as much as I do. Bradley is only 19 months and I don’t know how yet to handle it with him yet. Do I hope he forgets? Do I hang photos of him and Mike so he will remember? Do I write a book of stories for him to read so that he’ll have some kind of knowing as to what kind of boy Mike was? Kenzie has replaced her daddy’s picture in her snuggle pillow with a picture of Mike. She refuses to go to bed without his flashlight somewhere in her room. She tends to try and steal his blanket from me and tells me it’s the only way she can sleep. She remembers him. She also knows what happened. I’m not sure how she got the details, I tried o make sure that no one talked about it in front of her. I waited as long as I could in the day to tell her he was gone. I wanted her to be a kid. Something in me knew that the minute I told her Micheal had died, that a piece of her would instantly grow up. Truth be told I was right.

My four year old, so brave and strong, demanded a flower garden to remember her uncle the next day. She informed my mother sometime in that week, that she couldn’t cry, she had to be brave and strong for her mom. Who told her this? Probably the same person that blatantly told her Micheal shot himself. No four year old should have to be brave and strong for any reason, she should be allowed to feel any emotion she wants, to cry all she wants. I was angered at the thought of her not grieving because someone told her not to. Then I was angered at the fact that she was having to grieve at all. Today though she is strong, she doesn’t cry so much about it. When she sees me and knows that I am ‘sad’ she hugs me and tells me she loves me. See she has grown up. She knows that her love will get me through it.

Micheal died June 20, 2011. He took in own life. He left no note. We were shocked. Had Micheal tried to commit Suicide before? No. (some details have been removed)(The following was added on Sept. 11, 2011 at 2:28 pm) Micheal stole my car to drive around before hand. I don't know where he went, but he took money from my car and bought an energy drink sometime during the night. He put over 100 miles on the car. I'm not sure if he was driving trying to get the courage, or just trying to think or what. But I had to go to be taken to the fire station with my sister by a detective to sign a waiver to allow them to search my car. I have to drive init knowing he spent some of his last moments there. I also have to deal with the fact that my mother won't go anywhere with me anymore unless she's driving another vehicle because of this. So how am I left picking up pieces and angered. I'm not voices all of my thoughts at the moment because I do respect others but there will come a day that we will all have to deal with what happened. I'm choosing now.
  

So what happened? What made him snap? Why did he think that he had no other alternative? Most importantly why didn’t he feel like he could talk to someone or ask for help? These are some of the questions that I can’t answer.

While I still don’t know why Micheal thought that suicide was his only way out, I know that if I’d been given the chance I would have done anything to help him to keep him here on this earth with me. He was my little brother, my baby bubba, the little guy I tucked in at night “Snug as a bug, in a tight, tight rug.” He was the boy I tried to convince he could fly, then said his first real words “Help me” while strapped to a table getting his head stitched up after flying into the corner dresser. He was the boy who thought “Don’t Take the Girl” was written just for him; Tim McGraw wanted to leave us girls at home and take our uncle Tommy Thompson fishing instead. He spent two weeks walking around the house looking in closets, under beads, and behind the curtains for “JennJenn” while I was as summer camp. He was possessive and thought Pug was his dog only and Papa didn’t really mean for him to have to share him with us. He was so scared of chocolate he wouldn’t eat brown frosting or anything that resembled chocolate on a cake. I received a many all white cakes because he wouldn’t eat any if it might have touched the chocolate. He was once mistaken for being my son when I dropped him off at before school daycare once and I had to correct them, I was almost 7 when he was born. I taught him to make Spaghetti e after he informed me it was a woman’s place in the kitchen to cook and clean not the boys. He was a good Uncle to my children, a wonderful little brother, and an even bigger pest with the biggest grin that let you know he was doing it to bug you, but he still loved you THIS BIG!

There are so many other things that he was and loved, but I’ll save those to share for another day. I do ask that you please remember him and think of him today, World Suicide Prevention Day. If you know someone struggling reach out to them and let them know there is someone who does care and will be here. Let them know there is someone who will be lost without them and truly does love them. Live everyday like it’s the last with your loved ones. Don’t let a day go by without letting them know that you love them and that’s all that matters.

Explaining 9/11 to a 4 year old

Well I failed in my mission. I didn’t post anything yesterday. I wanted to wait and see what life threw at me before I sat down to write, when nothing came about till just before bedtime, I decided it would wait till tomorrow. I wanted to go to sleep early.

Kenzie was sent home with a new bookmark yesterday she was so excited. Turns out it was actually a note to parents that we needed to send our children to school dressed in red, white, and blue for the 9/11 commemoration ceremony at school today. So Royce and I set out to explain to her why she couldn’t wear her ACU and Cav outfit from homecoming last week and needed to wear her butterfly flag shirt instead. It wasn’t as easy to explain something that has had such a huge impact on our lives to a 4 year old as I thought it might be.

First, Royce tried to tell her it was so we could remember a bunch of people that died the same day a few years back. Kenzie of course says she needs to me to make a shirt with Mike’s picture for her to wear he died so she can talk about him. I held my composure and decided to sit down and try to explain as best as I could how it had nothing to do with her uncle Mike.

This was my explanation to a four year old. “Ten years ago, a bunch of bad men, who don’t like a America, the country we live in, decided they wanted to hurt everyone that did like America. They took over a bunch of Airplanes and made them fly into buildings and crash. All the people in the planes died, including the bad men, and a bunch of people in each building. The buildings in New York fell down completely so they had to build new ones. But we got all the bad men who did this and they won’t do it again. They wanted to scare everyone in America, but we only showed them how proud we can be and stood tall.”

Mackenzie’s response was a simple,”Oh, they can’t do that again can they?” I told her, “No, I don’t think they can, we have to many Soldiers and other Armed Force trying to protect us and will do everything they can to keep it from happening again. Its part of the reason Daddy is in the Army and has to go over to Iraq.”

Honestly, though, I don’t’ think 9/11 had too much to do with our invasion of Iraq. It was part of the reason everyone was hysterical and ready to attack anyone perceived as an enemy, but if I am truly honest I should tell you I think that our President at the time had many other things on his mind and agenda that had nothing to do with the attacks that dreadful day in 2001.

Everyone seems to be asking ‘Where were you on 9/11?’ My answer: I was in my pottery class in Muskogee, Oklahoma, at Muskogee high School. It was my senior year and I was sitting in my first class of the day watching CNN, talking to my buddy Mary, just like I did every morning. I saw the news prompt and start talking about the first plane. I was watching the screen hand (probably with my mouth open speechless) and I saw the plane hit the second tower, on live television. It was at then that moment that I knew something greater than a simple plane malfunction was responsible for this. There was a plot that planned to fly those planes into the Twin Towers.

Many things flew around in my mind. Who would do this? Why would someone want to destroy so many lives and hurt so many people? Did our government know something like this could happen? What is going to happen to all the people in New York? I know I’ll be ripping up my application to the University of New York as soon as I get home. How is his going to affect little ol’ high school senior me in Muskogee, Oklahoma?

Many lives changed in those hours that morning. We had a teacher at my school that lost a son in the Pentagon that day. Many of my classmates signed up for the military shortly after. While I had no plans but for college immediately after graduation, I would have never guessed how much that day would really affect MY life. It wasn’t until 2003 when my future husband joined the Army just after the declaration of war that I realized life in Oklahoma would never be that simple.

I’ll save the details of how Royce and I went from being tolerant of each other to married for another day. However, I will say it’s his decision to join the Army that ultimately led us to each other. It’s been the fight in Iraq and that Military that has led out lives together. We’ve had our ups and downs in the last seven years with many challenges, including war, PTSD, our desire for children, and many moves, but we’ve held onto to each other throughout it all. While deployment is no stranger to us, it has shaped our lives and my children’s as well. They’ve had to be braver and stronger than most their age. My daughter is smarter and independent beyond her years and Bradley is catching up to her.

I remain a strong supporter of our troops in every fashion, not just my husband and the soldiers that he leads, but all soldiers. While I support any military effort by any branch, I’m very biased to the Army. What can I say? I didn’t fall in love with a Knight in shining Armor; I fell in love with a soldier in dirty ACUs.

On Sunday, I’ll be waiting and cheering for the Cowboys that night when the game against the Jets starts, but I’ll remember that morning what event it was that shaped my life and the life of many others. I’ll remember those that were lost, the brave fireman and policeman that worked and some that were lost that day. I’ll remember the battles that have been fought and some won since. But most of all I’m going to remember that while someone tried to strip me of my pride and sense of freedom in this great country, that we as Americans stood strong, proud, and vigilant, and remain as such.

‘Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day?’

The Beginning

I'm not sure where to start. I never thought of myself as a blogging type, then again I never thought the events of the last year would be things that I would experience.

I'll start with last June, year 2010. We as a family moved from Ft. Sill, OK to Ft. Hood, TX. I was upset a few days after hearing that we were moving yet again, but then I realized that my best buddy and fellow army wife was already here so we wouldn't be alone. We arrived shortly after our anniversary. We spent our first day getting acquainted with the area and trying to get a house on post. But by the end of the week after he reported for in-processing, we'd received word and official orders, Royce was to deploy within 3 month. I was okay with the idea at first, we weren't to far from family that the kids and I couldn't drive up to see them every few months. Plus, Becca and Andrew were still be here with us. Life went on, we enjoyed the Summer, had a fabulous trip to San Antonio with my big brother and his wife. Royce deployed September 12, 2010. It was his third rotation to Iraq, and his unit was one of the first in support of Operation New Dawn. Bradley turned 8 months 2 weeks later. Kenzie celebrated her fourth birthday in October.

The first week of November, I rushed Bradley to the Doctor's office after thinking he had chicken pox. Turned out he had a rash called Molluscum. Never heard of it, well I hadn't either till then. Turns out it looks just like chicken pox. Only difference is, no fever and a constant runny nose. Well until the second week anyway then. Then instead of getting the Pox, it looks like they are covered in warts. Turns out you can get it in a public pool or from touching someone else infected. At first we thought it was the pool, but the dormant period is max of seven weeks, not 3 months as it was since the last trip to the post pool. I never had it, my friends didn't have it, Kenzie didn't. I'm still not sure to this day how he got it, but I do know it made life for him and me both miserable for nearly three months. he was always itchy, needing calamine lotion daily, oatmeal baths twice a week. Because it spreads easily in water I was suppose to wear gloves to bath him. Kenzie took her bath first so I could just bleach the tub after they were both in bed every night. I had to ensure his wet towels didn't touch an of ours before they dried or were washed. It wasn't till sometime in February that it seemed to finally go away.

The end of February i obtained the title of best Wife ever when I bought my husband a truck. The title was short lived after the truck sitting in the drive for a week, and my little brother having been spotted in the front yard while visiting, I was accused of being a heating Lying NO Good Dirty Wife having anther man living with me. I was blatantly asked by a senior Non-Commissioned Officer in charge of our housing area why I had another man in my home while my husband was deployed. After explaining to him I bought the truck for m husband, cause I'm a good wife, I was accused of being a rich bitch flaunting money for blatantly stating that i bought it out right for Royce. Then I informed him the man he saw was my brother here for a 2 day visit with my sister and nephew. I was briefed on the policy regarding others living in quarters and what was allowed and what wasn't. I was hurt upset and flat out speechless. i filed a complaint and thankfully haven't seen that man in my neighborhood since.

Royce returned for his R & R leave a few weeks later. It was short but wonderful. but Bradley wasn't happy about the separation, Kenzie clung to her snuggle pillow even more.
Easter weekend in April I made a trip to Muskogee to see my family. I had been talking to my little brother and he had asked to come stay with me and visit for a few weeks. I told him I was planning a trip back the last week of May or first of June so he could stay till then. He told our parents he was moving to Texas. I was caught in the middle. I hadn't agreed to anything permanent, but I couldn't leave him behind. The idea of being able to go to coffee, the gym, and grocery shopping without the kids was way to appealing. We made do and enjoyed the month.

Its now that I replay that month and the next over and over in my head. I never thought those would be some of my last memories of Mike. I wished I taken more pics, spent less time at the sewing machine, and so much more. Hindsight is 20/20. Micheal passed on June 20, 2011. He took his own life and for reasons I'm still not aware.

I titled this blog page Crying Over Mashed Potatoes for a reason. The last week we spent in Texas before going back to Oklahoma I taught Mike how to make mashed potatoes. He asked and I showed him. He was proud of himself, I bragged and took a picture and sent to my mom. Micheal never cooked much more then spaghetti.

Last night I made mashed potatoes again, only realizing I hadn't eaten real mashed taters since Mike had made them in May. I started Crying and couldn't stop. I was upset, mad, sad, depressed, and a whole mess of lost and confused. There are so many things that don't add up.

This is what I do know though, I'm moving on, starting today and everyday for the next year I'm blogging. I'm talking about my life, my family, my grief and moving on. I'm not going to sugar coat anymore. I'm not going to try and keep my thought and feeling to myself for fear of hurting someone else. So I'm going to write, out everything out there. I want to talk about it all, from my army life, to cooking and sewing, and the loss of my brother.

Its a brand new year, Royce is home.