Suicide

I have always seemed to be a little bit more on the melancholy side of happiness. Maybe it is the perfectionist in me that knows my life is far from perfect feeling deep sadness. I'm not really sure.

What I am sure is that I lost two men from my brother flight (265) from BMT within a week.  Both men, committed suicide. 

I've never known anyone to commit suicide before.  Now I know two. We have these events called "Safety Down Days" where we are forced to watch videos telling us to watch for signs within our fellow airmen who might be contemplating ending their lives. They all advise us to have them speak with a Chaplin...but the joke is that, once they do, they'll want to commit suicide even more because they'll be getting a discharge.

I don't know what was happening with Green & Alvarez that the both felt that ending their lives was the answer. I don't know why they felt that this could be the answer.  I don't know that they really vocalized these feelings to anyone from back home or at their duty stations.

What I do know is that I feel a great sense of loss.  Loss of two wonderful young men who were doing something very meaningful with their life, yet still felt an emptiness inside that couldn't be silenced.  They were heroes, didn't they know that?!?! Wasn't there anyone they could have talked to in order to convince them that this wasn't the answer? They were doing a great thing for themselves and their family...and now their families must mourn the loss of their young sons. 

I wish that they would have found solace here on earth....
R.I.P. Airman Green
R.I.P. Airman Alvarez

High Crawl

“If nothing else, one day you can look someone straight in the eyes and say, ‘But I lived through it. And it made me who I am today.’”- I Wrote This For You

Those 8 weeks at boot camp were some of the longest days of my life. They were some of the most challenging times, mentally and physically. I thought that I was prepared, but I know now, no amount of preparation could have prepared me ever. 

It's not that I was out of shape. I was in really good shape. It's not that I couldn't take being yelled at. I could, but I did hate it. It's not that I couldn't take being away from my family. I had been on my own in North Carolina before hand. It's not that I couldn't stand being in a bay of 59 other women. It definitely wasn't an ideal situation, but I have come out with some amazing women for friends.

Ok, so if I could handle all that stuff, what was so challenging?

Can you say Beast Week's Obstacle Course, high crawling up a hill? This is one of the things that sticks out in my mind. Many of the other times have blended together to just become a time in my life that I didn't really love, but this...this hill was a challenge. 

I was so scared. I literally started crying as I stood in line with Wirdges and Bouton. I had a helmet & ballistic vest on with an M16 in my hand and there I was as the rain was starting to come down (very picturesque). I was so afraid that I would not actually be able to high crawl up that damn hill, at a 45 degree angle, at least 200 feet, probably more I just can't fathom how many feet would really be in a hill that size. Wirdges told me it would be all right; that she'd be right there by my side. 

She was. She high crawled up that damn hill beside me and encouraged me as the sand got in my eyes, as my helmet fell over my face, as I became exhausted, as I got soaked from the rain, as I got sand in places where no one should get sand...

I have no idea how I really made it up that hill. I don't even know how long it all took. It felt like it was never going to happen, but there I was, getting over the hump in the hill and I was seeing 265/266 building temper tents together.

Since, I have come to the conclusion that the hill should be a metaphor for life and life's many challenges.  Sometimes I am scared to death about doing something.  But, with determination, encouragement, and strong will, I am able to get to struggle up the hill and eventually reach the easier place in the plateau. 

While I might have hated it; While  I might have feared it; I can say that I lived through that...and it has definitely helped to shape who I am.

Before I'm 30 List

People always refer to their Bucket List. The things in life they want to do before they die. Me, on the other hand, I'm a bit more ambitious. I want to have as many adventures and things crossed off my list by the time I'm 30. Why wait until I am old, have decaying bones, poor health, mortgage, possible spouse, children, grandchildren, and medical bills to worry about? More responsibility. The only things I have to worry about these days are my career, paying back student loans, and my car note. Just me. These are minimal in comparison. These are the days to conquer my list!

So my list:
1. Backpack/travel to England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, France, Germany, Italy (again), Greece, Denmark, Sweden, Russia, Mexico, Peru....Quebec....maybe a few others!
2. Get deployed to the Middle East.
3. Live overseas for at least 3 months.
4. Drive through all 48 continental United States.
5. Get published.
6. Research.
7. Join an alumna chapter & be involved.
8. Visit Nashville & see St. Jude Children's Research Hospital.
9. Go on an amazing vacation with my best friends.
10. Get tenure! (Wooo! Go me!)
11. Live in another state for at least a year.
12. Purchase a(nother) Jeep Wrangler.
13. Go deer hunting.
14. Make a palpable difference in a student's life.
15. Spoil my nephew and little cousins.
16. Take way too many pictures.
17. Fall in love (again).
18. Meet a celebrity. Preferably Luke Bryan.
19. Give back to Epsilon Iota & Allegheny College.
20. Visit NYC.
21. Throw my parent's an anniversary party.
22. Speak fluent Italian.

As for what I plan to do after I'm 30...well, I haven't really thought about it much.  I figure once I start crossing things off this list I'll think of more things I want to tackle. Let's face it, what I tackle, I conquer.

Ideas for the After I'm 30 List: jump out of an airplane; get married? maybe?; kids? maybe?; house? maybe? ehhh guess I'll figure that list out after this one is finished!

Bryanites

I find solace, inspiration, and my true emotions in music. The lyrics, the beat, the tempo, the instruments, the voice.  Certain songs pull on my heartstrings the way nothing else can. (Hence the "troubadours" part of the blog.) 

Less than a week ago I drove down to Georgia for a concert.  Now normally this wouldn't be a big deal, going to a concert. However, this concert, I HAD to go. I was attempting to find peace and happiness, while attempting not to feel heartache and sadness. I stumbled upon the answer, or what I thought was the answer, after class.  I was online and happened to go on the Luke Bryan website. There it was! My ticket to happiness-- 4 concerts in Georgia around the very same time I planned to visit my cousin in Atlanta.  DONE DEAL. I bought the ticket for the Thursday night concert in Carrollton, a town I had never been to before in my life, packed up my car, and made the estimated trip of 15hours 22minutes in 14hours.

Luke Bryan entered the stage around 9:30pm.  It was amazing. He came out fire blazing. The entire night was one of the most amazing experiences of my life.  I felt alive again. I felt invigorated.  I felt like ME.  I felt whole.

Since the concert I have become more thoroughly obsessed with this country star. I haven't felt this way since I was in 5th grade, my room plastered with Backstreet Boys posters and fan club merchandise.  I was gushing and blushing as I retold Thursday nights events to Carina.  She laughed and said I was smitten. It was true! I was absolutely smitten with this image of Luke Bryan- his words, his smile, his boots, his jeans, his voice.  I guess its probably a more safer rebound relationship!

I think what I'm so smitten with is his way wording everything and the way it spoke to me in my desperate hour. I've seen him in concert before, which was amazing as well, but not in the way in which  it was this past Thursday. His last concert, the one I drove 14hours to see, was akin to a religious experience for me.  I felt passion, life, and contentment flowing through my veins. I felt safe, as though I could find protection from his lyrics of wisdom.

Yes, I realize how goofy all this sounds, and I promise I am a sane woman.  However, to take my smitten-ness further Carina and I have decided to become religious followers of Luke Bryan, calling ourselves Bryanites. We plan to make a statue in his likeness, take a pilgrimage to see him and hear his word, and celebrate him and his mantras with feast days. To add to the silliness I have organized some Bryanite mantras, in case you readers are interested in following the new found religious order.

1. Rain makes corn. Corn makes whiskey.

2. Wish this high noon Georgia sun could melt what's been done, make it disappear.

3. There's only one thing you can do. Don't worry about nothing. Let it go see what tomorrow brings. Don't worry about nothing. Pray about everything.

4. You're like a early morning Monday, bringing me down, messing with my mood.

5. Some folks aren't happy the way they are. Some just wanna take things just a little too far. I am just what I am. I'm just what you see. So I'll make it easy, I'll stay me.

6. You need hands, rough not soft, to come and warm you up in that cold hayloft. Let me hold you little darling, in my big strong arms, can't get these kind of muscles anywhere but a farm.

7. Love is blind. Fate don't care.

8. All I know is we went out and done it up right.

9.  Well I worked all week, so I could come here, and have a nice cold beer. But 1 turned to 10 and 10 turned to 20, and 20 plus an empty bottle is too damn many.

10. I ain't got a clue what went down, so I started calling around. And all my friends say...

Is There an App for That?

Grief. Sadness. Crying. Indifference. Defiance. Contempt. Independence. Happiness. Freedom. Loneliness. Ambivalence. These are just some of the emotions I have been feeling in the last month as I have put forth in my effort for my heart to forget Maj. It has not been easy. After roughly 2 full weeks of crying, crippling depression, and just mangled feelings in general, I was able to, for the past 2 weeks start breathing again. I have started to see the signs of my full acceptance of what has occurred.  I have started to believe in the positive things in my life, rather than focusing on this negative.  I have felt very happy; felt alive even. 

Despite these positive emotions I have been having I also have my moments of sadness. I can't say it is even just a singular moment where tears fall from my eyes. Mostly it feels like a headache does...it is there, you notice it, but still you have to trudge along and not pay it much heed.  It is a constant emotion that I simply can not shake. There are times when it is not present at all; like when I was front row at the Luke Bryan concert last week. But then there are times when I know its there, I let myself feel terribly sad for a moment, but rather than have it disappear, the sting of sadness? regret? longing? love unrequited? remains. 

After other breakups I would see something or think of a memory and immediately start bawling.  Once I had calmed down and the crying ceased, I felt better. I was able to cry out my frustration and feelings then.  This time around though, I can't seem to be able to fall back on my normal remedy to fix my heart. 

So here I ask, in this world of technology, where everything seems to have a quick solution...Is there an app for that? Is there an app for moving on? Is there a special formula I should follow in order to see results?  Is there a guide to the galaxy of a broken heart?

I've enlisted advice from some of my closest friends.  All weekend I asked my cousin how she was able to move on from her previous long term relationship.  Carina always helps me whenever I send her a message stating my disapproval of how I am handling the situation.  The truth is, I don't know how to handle this! I don't feel like myself! I feel so much more mature than I have in past breakups.  While this should be a good thing, I simply don't understand how a mature woman deals with such heartache.  Why aren't I crying? Why am I able to feel so happy so soon after? How can I still miss him? How can I believe things happen for a reason? Why am I not crying all the time?

Charlotte York says that it takes half as long to move on from a past relationship as you were in it (meaning: 1 year relationship, 6 months of grief before fully moving on).  Laura says it just takes time, but that I will be able to fully recover.  Carina says there is no set place or stage that I should be in at this time. "As long as you're doing the best that you know how to do, you're fine! You're making strides and I'm so proud of you!"  Elizabeth Gilbert once drove into a new relationship, another time she took a year hiatus to Italy, India, and Bali. Carrie Bradshaw starts dating again sometimes, others she dyes her hair and redecorates her apartment.  Hayden suggests just getting back in there and playing the game with new boys.

So again I ask for a simpler solution: Is there an app for that?

Is recovering from heartache an individual process? Or can it/should it follow some sort of established protocol in order receive the fullest results?  Is there a right and wrong way to move through the termination of a relationship?

My Last Name

I have often declared to my boyfriends and my friends that I love my last name.  That I do not want to change it when (...should I say and if?...) I get married.  Men tend to shrink away when I state this declaration of near independence. 

The  "What about when you have kids? You'll have a different last name from them!" argument:
Yes. Thank you for noticing. Parents who have been divorced and are remarried typically have a different last name than their children from a previous union do as well. Sometimes single mothers give their children the father's last name.  In today's society, this is not something that is too much of a problem. In fact some colleagues actually have students write their parent's home/work phone number down with what they should be addressed as. 


The "You should take the husband's last name, that's what everyone else does. It's tradition" argument:
Ahh the tradition argument. Yes, you're right, it is tradition.  It is a custom we [those of us who are of European decent] have adopted since taking on last names in the Middle Ages. I get that; the men were the breadwinners of the day, they ruled the house, they were the only ones who had a true legal identity, so yes, it makes sense that women would take on their husband's last name upon marriage. Perhaps it is even romantic to think about your identity being merged with your love's.

But we no longer take on the other part of the original custom; women have a legal identity in today's society here in the U.S. Remember, that little thing called the 19th Amendment? It gave women the right to vote and made us separate citizens in legal terms from our fathers (after 18) and our husbands.  (Why do you think divorce is so messy these days? If we weren't legal citizens we wouldn't be able to sue for divorce -unless on the grounds of adultery- and we'd have no assets to fight to regain. It would all be our husband's since the moment our hand passed from our father's to his.)

Now I understand it is partially a sentimental tradition. But so is having a big, fancy, 19th century inspired wedding gown & a groom in a tux.  Think Queen Victoria's wedding.  Doesn't mean it is necessary.  Customs change. In colonial times, women wore yellow wedding dresses to symbolize constancy.  And there is nothing in the Bible that mandates wedding dresses, last names, etc.

My Last Name argument:
My last name is important to me. It sounds right with my first name. 

I am in the reserves.  I went to basic training. One of the most exciting moments of those 8 weeks was finally getting my name tape sewn onto my ABU jacket.  I felt as though I had earned the right to my last name.  Now, I haven't gone on a deployment yet, but I know that when I do, I will come home with even more pride in the name I wear across my chest.
My grandfather was in the Army in WWII.  He and I share the same last name.  Now that I too am in the military I feel a connection to him that I was unable to make when he was alive. 

I use my last name in my professional career outside of the military as well.  My certifications are in my last name. I am called by my last name.  I claim authorship to my writing and research with my last name.

My last name is part of who I am. It is a symbol of who I am and I do not want to let go of it, simply because I decide to spend my life with a single person. I do not see myself as only my first name. I am that weird Latin/Italian/Germanic mix that is represented in my namesakes.  Just like I am a country girl and city lover co-mingling within the same being.


I do not fault or judge women who change their last name when they get married. I think that in the 21st century it is a personal choice driven out of the 1970s feminist movement; just like birth control.  I choose to keep mine.

I don't see why I can't be referred to as Mrs. Bryan in my personal life. Why can't I call up the pizza shop and tell them that the pick up order is under Mrs. Bryan instead of Ms. Gilmore? Why can't I let my son's friends call me Mrs. Bryan? It's only legally that I'm trying to preserve my name, not necessarily socially. 

Hopefully Mr. Right will understand. If not, maybe I can give up something else. Perhaps I'll offer him a den with big comfy couches, big screen TV, bar, and pool table where he can watch football games all season if I can legally keep my last name.

When we walk into the wedding reception, they can even say "Introducing Mr & Mrs Bryan." I promise I won't mind.

Road Trips

When I was younger our family vacations started with a road trip; all 5 of us and our stuff piled up in our garnet and grey van.  When I was in high school I never went on the road trips that my cousin & I or my friends & I dreamed of finally being able to go on when we turned 16. But my sense of adventure, or rather, burning desire for adventure has never subsided.

I first started conducting my solo road trips when I was a freshman in college. I drove from Brockport to Allegheny nearly every other weekend to visit my high school boyfriend.  During the summer of my junior year I would travel to Pittsburgh to see a boyfriend.  Later in my senior year of college I drove to North Carolina to see Zach who was stationed in Fayetteville. 

I guess I started falling in love with driving.  I bought a new car that got better gas mileage so that it wouldn't cost so much.  I remembered the fun I would have as a kid, cruising along the road, seeing what was out there, listening to the radio (which is how I can sing along to all the Oldies songs my parents listen to). I was out there on the road by myself. I controlled my own destination.  I felt free.

There is something that makes me feel alive when I'm out there on the road. I love feeling the sun beat in through the windshield. I love the sound of the wind gushing through the open windows.  I love turning the radio up as loud as I can make it when I find a station with one of my favorites. I love the way I can scan the radio and hear a song that I haven't heard in awhile, years perhaps, that immediately puts a smile on my face. I love not having a GPS system guide me. Yes, I have the directions written down, but the way "going with your gut" when it comes to directions gives the instant gratification of strength and courage that nothing else has ever compared to in my life. I love stopping in new places to get gasoline.

I think that the road trips I have been on are a mirror of my life.  Obviously they are moments in my life, but more than that the road trip itself is a mirror of my inner being and situation.  I have had my share of boyfriends, but all for one trip, it has been a solo journey.    I have made wrong turns. I have stopped and asked for directions.  I have nearly run out of gasoline.  I have had the anxiety of whether or not I actually took the correct exit.  I have discovered a place I had only heard of in books.  I have taken pictures. I have seen battlefields. I have crossed over plains and rivers. I have felt alone and scared. I have journeyed through mountains. I have felt happy and exhilarated.  I am always the driver.  I am in control.  I look forward to the drive to my destination, but typically dread the return home. I have felt like a pioneer. 

For those reasons above, it only seemed appropriate that after my recent heartache I take a road trip. However, this was no ordinary breakup. This was not some boy I just needed to get over.  This was a man I thought I was going to spend forever with.  So, I decided I needed, my soul needed, my heart needed more than one road trip. 4 to be precise. In the span of 5 weeks. To help me, my soul, and my heart to move forward and forget the past with new, bright, and happy moments. 

Maybe then, I'll find peace. Or at least the start of it.