The One-Year Promise to Myself

Just about 16 years ago, the USS Fletcher (DD 992) was getting ready to pull back into San Diego after a six-month deployment to the Arabian Gulf. I remember so clearly the night before we pulled back in. Everyone aboard the ship shared the excitement and happy anticipation for what would happen the next morning. Many of the sailors described it as the feeling a child has on Christmas Eve.

Pure joy.

The next morning as the ship sailed into San Diego the Navy band played music on the pier. The tugboats followed us spraying water into the air. Hundreds of family and friends and fellow shipmates lined the pier with balloons and posters. It was a grand celebration and our whole crew felt appreciated and valued. We had completed our mission and come together as a strong and solid team.

Now we would go and enjoy our favorite restaurants, spend time with our family and generally relax and take it easy for the next month.

It was that memory that was my basis for understanding what homecoming was all about.

I had no idea that it was so much different for a military reservist.

One year ago, from today, I landed at the Akron Canton airport. Filled with the joyful anticipation, I was ready to reunite with my family after nine months in Afghanistan. The day had drug on. My flight had been delayed in Philadelphia. When I finally landed in Ohio, I had so much excited anticipation I could feel it bubbling in my stomach. I walked/ran down the hallway toward my husband and children.

I passed through the final TSA security check and saw our children holding posters and crying as they came forward to hug me. There was a lot of hugging.

A wonderful friend and photographer had graciously volunteered to take homecoming photos. Her images are a beautiful representation of the moment. (See all of them here!)

My parents and brother were there as well, and we all went back to my house. It is a funny thing to walk back into your home after being gone for so long. One of our two fourteen-year-old chihuahuas had passed while I was deployed and our remaining dog, Nacho, was very ill, but very happy to see me.

I changed out of my uniform and took the boys to flag football. I had made it home just in time for one final round of flag football and cheerleading competition.

Looking back now, I don’t have a lot of clear memories of those first few days back. But it wasn’t pure joy.

It was incredibly hard.

When I try to describe the difference, words always seem to fail me, but it is a very individual experience. I did not come home with a team of people that completed the experience with me. Instead, I returned home to a family and community that moved forward while I was away.

In the weeks that followed…

… I remember crying in my closet following a day-long presentation for Veterans Day at the middle school.

… I remember how hard it was to pay attention to time again. I was late for almost every designated appointment.

… I remember asking my employer for an extra week of vacation time upfront because I couldn’t function enough to get back on track with work.

… I remember feeling alone and isolated and in a lot of pain as I tried to recover and bond with my family realizing everything I had missed.

… I remember the first call with my employer after arriving home and learning that my role had been eliminated.

… I remember realizing that my marriage might not survive until the end of the year.

… I remember packing all my Afghanistan memories and experiences into a bubble and locking it in the back of my brain.

I wasn’t sure anyone wanted to hear about it. And if they did want to hear, I wasn’t sure how I’d help them appropriately envision it. I didn’t think I had the words. I was struggling each day to be present— back in my other life trying to rebuild what I had lost.

During that period, I leaned heavily on Psalm 46:10 “Be still and know that I am God.”   

I begged myself not to make any rash decisions. If I could just wait patiently through this period. Let all things settle.

In April six-months after my homecoming, I began to feel healthy again.

I was able to make decisions that reassured me of my recovery. I opted to move on from my employer. Jason and I made the decision to move from Ohio to Florida. I started drilling with the Navy again. I felt more joy and peace.

I couldn’t imagine how different my homecoming experience could vary from my memories and expectations.

I swore to myself that I would do my best to prepare others.

I would tell the stories of reservists like me. By the one-year anniversary of my homecoming, I would launch a podcast.

Today, my podcast went live on iTunes (and every other place you’d think to find a podcast)! Each week, I will broadcast the stories of America’s military reservists. Many of my fellow Navy Reservists have helped me launch this podcast. They have opened themselves up and shared their pain, sacrifice, and job with me and with those who will listen.

It is with so much love, admiration and hope that I invite you to listen today to the first episode of “When Sacrifice Calls.”

When Sacrifice Calls – Trailer

When Sacrifice Calls is a weekly podcast featuring the stories of America’s Military Reservists and National Guardsmen. Approximately 1.2 million Americans balance both military service and civilian careers. This show features the wealth of experience and perspective unique to these Americans.