Alas...I have been very busy so my 9/11 post is a few days late. I guess better late than never (or so "they" say). I have a friend who feels that constantly posting via the internet, our fears from that day, our memories of where we were and how frightened we were jsut reinforces what the terrorists did and essentially shows them that they can get to us. I feel a little different...I think that any group of people who can put together a program of such distruction do not need my constant reassurance of their ability to inflict fear. I don't believe they scour the internet looking for instances where the American people are still dealing with their lose and pain just to prove to themselves that they did a good job. They just don't strike me as the type to worry about the pats on the back 8 years later. So...on that note...to add to the story...I will tell you where I was and how I was feeling, because regardless of what we may all like to believe, that day had a huge impact on me, my life, my family, and who I am today.
The day started like any other, Nick was up early and out of the house headed to PT and missions. You see, on September 11, 2001 Nick was still stationed at Ft. Meyer, VA in Charlie Company of the 3rd U.S. Infantry of the United States Army, he was an Old Guard Soldier, you know...the guys who work in Arlington National Cemetary and guard the tomb of the unknown (now known) soldier. He buried fallen soldiers, he did retirement ceremonies, and he set up ceremonies and did tours at the Pentagon. He was scheduled to be at the Pentagon at some point that week to set up a big retirement thing. I wasn't sure what day, but I knew he would call me when he got a chance to see how I was doing. I was about 3-4 months pregnant at the time and working in sales for a company that sold hardware and software to the government.
I got myself up and to work like any other day. Sitting at my desk I was going through emails and chatting with my co-worker across the aisle when someone from another cubicle yelled across the room that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York. The next moment is one I will regret for a long time, but you don't really think about things until time has past. Needless to say, my first reaction was to look at my co-worker across the aisle and proclaim, "Damn, that sucks!" Yes...that was my big revelation...it "sucked". Anyway, it obviously was only moments later when someone else proclaimed, "HOLY SHIT...ANOTHER ONE JUST HIT THE OTHER TOWER!!!" At this point, I gain full use of my vocabulary skills and emotions and realize something is severely wrong with this picture, we all race to an office with a small TV to watch the news reports. I was stuck in the back so I couldn't really see the TV but I could hear the reports and the broadcasters panic in their voices as they try to discribe the situation, a friend turned to me and said something...profound and meaningful I am sure....just in time for someone to pull the curtain on my sanity completely. "Oh GOD...WE ARE UNDER ATTACK...ANOTHER PLANE JUST HIT THE....PENTAGON!!!"
For what seemed like a million years...time stood still for me. It was truly one of those moments where everything around me moved in slow motion and as my mind tried to put two and two together and grasp the concept that my new husband and the father of my unborn child could potentially be dead now. at some point I must have made a noise, a scream, something had come out of my mouth...either that or everyone in the room was able to put two and two together faster than me because when my brain reengaged I was face to face with about 40 people trying to console me and get me a phone to call the barracks to get information.
I remember running back to my desk and dialing the phone only to get a busy signal time and time and time again. Tears streaming down my face, my voice and breathe caught in my throat I replaced the receiver in its craddle and stared at the phone begging and prayer for it to work for me. A moment later it rang...
"Baby...I am so sorry, I don't have long...we are going in...I love you more than anything in this world. Please be safe. I will always be with you." Click. And then the phone was dead. I sat stunned, disbelieving, still waiting to hear the punchline. I remember my eyes closed as I tried to see him in my mind.
Another million years past before I was able to drop the phone on the desk...a friend standing next to me had to put it back in its craddle. I remember hearing people asking me if there was anyone else I could call, anyone who might have more information, anyone I could stay with or go to. The voices seemed so very far away though that I don't think my mind really felt like they were talking to me. All I could think about was Nick...that I would lose him. He would be gone and I would be lost without him...he was my whole life, my everything. What did he mean they were going in? Going in where? What was going on? Why did he have to go in anywhere? Why couldn't they just STAY in...stay safely in the barracks? And then....the panic set in again. I grabbed the phone and started dialing...first the barracks, busy signal...then other Army wives whose husbands were in Nick's company. Wife after wife had gotten the same call...none knowing anymore than the other. We decided we needed to be in one place in case we got a call from any of them...it would lessen the information chain and the guys could all use the same call to talk to each wife. We could also use the comfort and support of each other at that time.
I don't remember much beyond that moment. I remember telling my boss that I had to leave. I vaguely remember someone asking if I needed a ride which I declined...knowing I would need my car in case I had to get somewhere fast. I remember actually running down the halls, taking the stairs instead of the elevator to get down to the lobby faster and running to my car (don't forget...I am still pregnant...but I had forgotten at this point). I remember the roads seemed empty....and there were actually cars parked on the side of the street. I remember I drove as fast as I could without putting myself in serious danger. I don't remember where I went. I don't remember which wife's house I was at. I don't remember how long I stayed there. I don't remember how long it was before we heard from our husbands again. I believe it was about a week before we really got to see them....possibly more.
Afterwards, some of the gaps were filled in for me. The guys had been done with PT and were getting ready for missions when the Pentagon was hit. Nick had been outside and had heard it...then saw the smoke. He had run back into the barracks where the guys were being ordered into riot gear and given weapons. They were sent down to the Pentagon as guards in case of another attack. After the threat had passed of another immediate attack, they went back to the barracks, got rid of the riot gear and weapons and got ready for what would end up being the worst mission of their lives to that date. They were sent back to the Pentagon for body recovery. To this day...the images they endured stay locked in their minds...many of them not willing to talk about what they saw. Nick refuses to ever make me endure those images as he has had to do since those days. I do know that he was so determined that day that he pushed himself too far...going back in time and time and time again until finally he collapsed under the exhaustion and dehydration. Evidently he only gave the medics enough time to rehydrate him before he was back on the job. For the next few weeks the guys rotated in and out doing recovery of plane parts and the dead.
Those days changed them all. It showed most of them a war they had never imagined they would have to endure when they signed those papers. A year later we lost a good friend to the pressure and stress of what he had seen that day, he killed himself. Nick's drinking got exponentially worse after those days and I truly believe it was what began our downhill spiral.
So...there it is, I have posted that horrible day so the terrists can now know that their plan was effective (as if they hadn't already figured that out). The thing is...those memories will never leave me. I truly won't EVER forget those memories. They are burned into my consciousness. Everything in my life was fundamentally altered during those moments...not for good or for bad...but altered. I can't pretend today that those moments didn't happen or effect me any more than I can go back and make them not happen at all. The good thing about having those memories forever is that I will also ALWAYS remember how much I truly loved Nick...regardless of what may come in my future with him...there was a time that I loved him more than life itself and I will NEVER EVER be allowed to forget that. So stick that up your skirt terrorists! ;-)
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
First Day of the Rest of My Life
Okay...so blogging is probably not my strong suite...but I am going to give it a try. Someone once said I should write the story of my life. I am not terribly good at writing a book and I don't really think many people would buy it anyway. So, to get it off my chest and out of my head (and to satisfy those few people who seem to think it ought to be written down) I will at least attempt to write some of the journey (hence the name of the blog) here.
I have to admit, I don't particularly care if people like what I have to say, or if they even read it. I do believe this will be a good way for me to work through some of the shit that seems to keep me up at night while my brain mulls it all over. I will probably misspell words (although I hope not cuz that drives me crazy). There will be times I won't make sense and it will seem like babble (well, okay, probably most of the time). But this is more for me than for the rest of you...so deal.
I will start with today and work backwards for a little bit...probably jump around a lot...again...probably won't make a ton of sense...but whatever. Today my ex-husband, who I have been living with for the last 2 years trying to make our relationship work, decided to inform me he is moving out. This was not a big shocker. We haven't been good for a long time (hence the divorce thing). Why we decided to try it all again and keep at it for an additional 2 years after the divorce is somewhat beyond my knowledge at this time. I suppose though, we felt that what love we have for each other should be enough to keep us together. We should be able to survive...pull ourselves from the ashes and be one of those glorious couples who goes on to live happily ever after or some equally sappy bullshit. The reality is...we are VERY different people. We have VERY different views on life, happiness, family, our goals, our futures, etc etc etc. So it is over...again...finally. But how did we get to this point, 9 years of our lives spent together, building dreams and homes and all the other things you put into a "marriage"? How did it all fall apart?
Let's see, hmmm, 9 years ago I was 21 (shut up about my age...I only tell you to put this into perspective). I was single for the first time in a long time. I was free, happy, having fun (as any good 21 year old should be doing). I had a place with a girlfriend. We spent the weekends bouncing bars and picking up guys. It was fabulous...and I was LOVING it. Then one night I met this guy. He was gorgeous, built, piercing crystal blue eyes that melted your heart and a dimple when he smiled. He was thoughtful, handsome, caring, great with the parents/adults, and frickin amazing in bed. He was the COMPLETE package. At the time (not sure about now) the ratio of women to men in the DC Metro area was reported at about 4:1. So then you take out the gays, lesbians, the ones too young, the ones too old, the ones already married, and the ones you wouldn't touch with a ten foot (hmm, 20 foot) pole and you are left with a MUCH wider margin. I knew I had a keeper...and he seemed to like me too. SO...3 months into the relationship, high on "love" (lust)...we tied the knot. Yes, I know...inSANE. And it was...but we were young and we figured if it didn't work...we would just get divorced...no harm, no foul.
Fast forward 1 year...marriage suddenly means family and I want a baby. I know...silly young thing I was...I thought it would strengthen this already fabulous life we were living together and we could get moving on from our wedded bliss to our family bliss. Uh...yeah. Note to others...WAIT!!!!!
Anyway, so we discussed, and discussed and decided to have a baby. 9-11 months later...bouncing...uh...well...it was a boy. I will get into that story eventually...but for now, just know it was a very complicated pregnancy followed by HELL for around...oh...let's see he is 7 so...yeah...I will conservatively say 5 straight years of hell with things only being mildly calm in his life over the last 2 years. Again, that is another story for another time. Needless to say though...it put A LOT of pressure and strain and stress on our marriage (which really was more like two strangers living in the same house). Ahhh...but we perservered. When all doubted our ability to survive the stress of a special needs baby...we proved them wrong. Well...okay...we hid it well. He started drinking and I retreated into the care of our new troubled baby boy.
Fast forward 2 years. He is effectively out of the Army (sorry didn't mention that earlier...he was in the Amry and stationed in the DC area (during 9/11 but I will ellaborate on that later) but originally from Oregon) and we have moved across the country to live in his hometown. I left him 3 months after moving to Oregon and moved back home because he was drinking heavily and had left me stranded with a then 2 year old on my own in a place I knew no one and nothing. 9 months later I come back to Oregon because he swears he is a changed man and that things will be different (heard that one before, haven't you). Less than a week before I am scheduled to leave to drive back across the country to rejoin my husband in his hometown....he gets a DUI. Yeah...things will be soooooooooooo different. I am convinced though that we can make this work so I come back anyway.
Big surprise...things aren't all that different. But we buy a house and start to remodel and well...yep, you guessed it...HELL. So I divorce him (eventually I will elaborate on most of this stuff probably). 6 months go by, he swears he wants to try and make things work and it will be different (where have I heard that before). So we pack up and move to Seattle.
Signal baby boy's issues! 6 months of HELL in Seattle (although I might mention we were in wedded (or whatever) bliss again during this time) and we move back to "sunny" Oregon. So here we are.
9 years...12 moves...1 child...2 seperations....1 divorce...and well...here we are. Done.
I have to admit, I don't particularly care if people like what I have to say, or if they even read it. I do believe this will be a good way for me to work through some of the shit that seems to keep me up at night while my brain mulls it all over. I will probably misspell words (although I hope not cuz that drives me crazy). There will be times I won't make sense and it will seem like babble (well, okay, probably most of the time). But this is more for me than for the rest of you...so deal.
I will start with today and work backwards for a little bit...probably jump around a lot...again...probably won't make a ton of sense...but whatever. Today my ex-husband, who I have been living with for the last 2 years trying to make our relationship work, decided to inform me he is moving out. This was not a big shocker. We haven't been good for a long time (hence the divorce thing). Why we decided to try it all again and keep at it for an additional 2 years after the divorce is somewhat beyond my knowledge at this time. I suppose though, we felt that what love we have for each other should be enough to keep us together. We should be able to survive...pull ourselves from the ashes and be one of those glorious couples who goes on to live happily ever after or some equally sappy bullshit. The reality is...we are VERY different people. We have VERY different views on life, happiness, family, our goals, our futures, etc etc etc. So it is over...again...finally. But how did we get to this point, 9 years of our lives spent together, building dreams and homes and all the other things you put into a "marriage"? How did it all fall apart?
Let's see, hmmm, 9 years ago I was 21 (shut up about my age...I only tell you to put this into perspective). I was single for the first time in a long time. I was free, happy, having fun (as any good 21 year old should be doing). I had a place with a girlfriend. We spent the weekends bouncing bars and picking up guys. It was fabulous...and I was LOVING it. Then one night I met this guy. He was gorgeous, built, piercing crystal blue eyes that melted your heart and a dimple when he smiled. He was thoughtful, handsome, caring, great with the parents/adults, and frickin amazing in bed. He was the COMPLETE package. At the time (not sure about now) the ratio of women to men in the DC Metro area was reported at about 4:1. So then you take out the gays, lesbians, the ones too young, the ones too old, the ones already married, and the ones you wouldn't touch with a ten foot (hmm, 20 foot) pole and you are left with a MUCH wider margin. I knew I had a keeper...and he seemed to like me too. SO...3 months into the relationship, high on "love" (lust)...we tied the knot. Yes, I know...inSANE. And it was...but we were young and we figured if it didn't work...we would just get divorced...no harm, no foul.
Fast forward 1 year...marriage suddenly means family and I want a baby. I know...silly young thing I was...I thought it would strengthen this already fabulous life we were living together and we could get moving on from our wedded bliss to our family bliss. Uh...yeah. Note to others...WAIT!!!!!
Anyway, so we discussed, and discussed and decided to have a baby. 9-11 months later...bouncing...uh...well...it was a boy. I will get into that story eventually...but for now, just know it was a very complicated pregnancy followed by HELL for around...oh...let's see he is 7 so...yeah...I will conservatively say 5 straight years of hell with things only being mildly calm in his life over the last 2 years. Again, that is another story for another time. Needless to say though...it put A LOT of pressure and strain and stress on our marriage (which really was more like two strangers living in the same house). Ahhh...but we perservered. When all doubted our ability to survive the stress of a special needs baby...we proved them wrong. Well...okay...we hid it well. He started drinking and I retreated into the care of our new troubled baby boy.
Fast forward 2 years. He is effectively out of the Army (sorry didn't mention that earlier...he was in the Amry and stationed in the DC area (during 9/11 but I will ellaborate on that later) but originally from Oregon) and we have moved across the country to live in his hometown. I left him 3 months after moving to Oregon and moved back home because he was drinking heavily and had left me stranded with a then 2 year old on my own in a place I knew no one and nothing. 9 months later I come back to Oregon because he swears he is a changed man and that things will be different (heard that one before, haven't you). Less than a week before I am scheduled to leave to drive back across the country to rejoin my husband in his hometown....he gets a DUI. Yeah...things will be soooooooooooo different. I am convinced though that we can make this work so I come back anyway.
Big surprise...things aren't all that different. But we buy a house and start to remodel and well...yep, you guessed it...HELL. So I divorce him (eventually I will elaborate on most of this stuff probably). 6 months go by, he swears he wants to try and make things work and it will be different (where have I heard that before). So we pack up and move to Seattle.
Signal baby boy's issues! 6 months of HELL in Seattle (although I might mention we were in wedded (or whatever) bliss again during this time) and we move back to "sunny" Oregon. So here we are.
9 years...12 moves...1 child...2 seperations....1 divorce...and well...here we are. Done.
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