Leaving Afghanistan

I am going to be the Rocket Man (plus two and a half, local that is).  If you're not sure what that means just ask Elton.

Next stop Manas.

Good riddance, Afghanistan.  I will not be sad to leave you.

Complicated

I remember back just over eight years ago when I returned home after the invasion of Iraq.  I remember the questions that were asked.  I could tell a theme amongst them.  Every person curious of my experiences dodged the questions that everyone was wondering but nobody wanted to ask.  I could tell the ones that wanted to ask about my experiences being in a combat zone, but for some reason they were either too polite or too scared to ask me.  I'm sure most did not want to hear what I would have said.  I guess it depended on who it is and on what kind of day they catch me on the answer that I'd give if I were asked.

That last statement is kind of hard for me to think about.  Some days I'll be completely honest, telling every nitty, gritty detail that I can remember.  Some days I'll divert and not tell a whole lot.  It just depends on who is asking, how they ask, the mood I'm in when asked, or a number of other factors.  In general I try to remember more of the good than the bad.

I remember in the first few months following my return home being so irritated with people for not asking me what happened.  It seemed like nobody really cared about what I had just experienced.  At the same time I was having an extremely hard time readjusting to being back home and didn't really want to talk about it.  I was surrounded by people that seemed to have changed in the short amount of time I was gone.  I was the father of a baby girl that didn't have any recollection of her daddy.  It was a confusing and difficult time in my life.

It took quite some time to realize that it was not the people around me that had changed.  It was me.  As a whole I didn't feel any different.  I think I still acted and thought the same.  Now I know that I was a different person on the inside, I just did my best to keep that person hidden from everyone else.  I'm not sure why I hid inside from those around me.  I was scared.  I was embarrassed.  I was hurting.

Switching gears a little bit...I'm going to try to tie this in to my point.

Before this last deployment began Heidi and I have talked many, many hours of our experiences and how they differed from each other.  We talked about how we could share our good days and our bad with everyone that cared to hear about it.  It was Heidi that started putting thought to "paper" by starting her daily blog.  I followed suit not too long after she started.

Our intent has never been to hurt feelings or to point the finger at anyone.  Heidi and I have talked a good deal about the spirit of what we write and how it is intended to impact those reading it.  Our separate blogs are to simply attempt to tell our story to whoever wants to read it.

I recently re-read what I had to say a few weeks ago.  I came across pretty sarcastic and pretty harsh.  Please understand that I am using this forum as an outlet and that it was not directed at anyone in particular.  I apologize to those of you who feel like I've said the wrong thing.  Those of you who know me know that I am not malicious with my words.  I did not mean to hurt feelings by speaking my mind.  I am also not trying to be ungrateful for anything that is said or done for my benefit.

I feel the need to clarify my thoughts at that time.  During the last few weeks I have grown extremely annoyed with talk of how close we are to going home.  100% of the time that talk has come from my fellow Marines.  It was not directed at any one of my friends or family back in the States.  I've grown impatient with seeing my fellow Marines stop doing their job with the same intensity that they had for the previous 6 months.  We call it "dropping their packs."  Instead of finishing strong, too many have tapered off.  Too many of those guys have made their count down calenders a bigger priority than the job at hand.  Needless to say, my frustration boiled over in the form of my blog posting.

The most dangerous point of any deployment is the first month and the last month.  The first month we are green.  We don't know our daily operations.  We don't know lay of the land, so to speak.  After that first month we get into a groove.  We refine that groove until we know our jobs inside and out.  We get to where we can almost do it in our sleep.  By the time the last month rolls around we've forgotten all the safety and security measures that we used when we were first getting here.  We have become complacent in our daily routine.  I was tired of seeing it happen.  My last deployment my battalion lost a Marine due to negligence 11 days before we flew out of Iraq.

The last year has been very trying and very difficult.  I've been away from my girls far too long now.  I have been in a combat zone and seen all the things that go along with that.  I found out my buddy Scott died over here a few months back.  I know that I've become more than a little bitter during this time, and it has shown.

I know some of the things I've posted have a confusing message.  I think I've managed to scare everyone away from saying anything to me at all.  A few days ago I was listening to my iTunes as I was packing my things into the two bags I brought 7,000 miles with me.  I was thinking about how nobody has sent me any letters or emails in a long while.  The last one I got was from my buddy Bryan.  There was a line in it that has great bearing on this topic.  "I've got to be honest, it's difficult to know what to talk to you about."

That hit home for me.  That bothers me that my homey of over 20 years has a hard time talking to me.

Please don't stop talking to me.  Please don't filter what you have talk to me about.  I've not heard from a lot of people, and I can't help but think I had a large part in that.  I don't want you to be scared of saying the "wrong" thing to me.  Being in Afghanistan is lonely enough, let alone when nobody back home has anything to say to you out of fear it'll upset me.

Sometimes I wish I hadn't started this blog.  Many times I've thought about just quitting before I dug myself a deeper hole.  Maybe what I've had to say should've been kept to myself.  I thought this would be a good outlet, but I didn't really think about how much I was really putting out there for everyone to see.  I thought maybe this would help give an insight into what we experience over here.  Maybe those experiences shouldn't be shared.  I don't really know at this point.  All I know is that the damage has already been done.

I am no longer at Dwyer.  After a not so pleasant C-130 flight I am now at Camp Leatherneck awaiting my flight out of Afghanistan.  Soon I will be able to see and hold my wife and kids.  Soon I won't have to carry a rifle or a pistol or a helmet or body armor.  Soon I will be back in a world that is thankfully oblivious to all that goes on over here.  Soon this whole mess can be forgotten.

Part of forgetting the parts that need forgetting is my reintegration into the "real" world.  I've done this enough times now to realize that I cannot do it by myself.  I will need help.  You'll never hear me ask, but I will need it from you.  I'm not really sure in what form I'll need it, but I will.  Just don't treat me any different than you did before.

I have rambled on for quite a while on this one.  I have worked on this post for many days now trying to make it right.  I can't help but wonder how many of you have given up on reading this blog and won't even see if before I get home.  I tried to make things right.

Please be patient and understanding of me.  (I'm not even sure what that means.)

Marine Corps Ninja Skills Continued

So apparently I did not hit save or publish or whatever the last time I wrote anything a few weeks ago.  I had several other pictures included and a lot more typed up.  Apparently it never made it to the publish post portion of this blog.  I'm not exactly sure how or why.
At the time I was proud of the fact I had just completed all of my MCMAP training.  Long story short...I completed my green belt training and went on to get my brown belt as well.  Not as exciting now as it was then.  All my bruises and minor flesh wounds are a thing of the past.
I'm glad to be done with it.  I'm not really interested in a black belt.

Marine Corps Ninja Skills

I left on this deployment with the goal of increasing in the Marine Corps Marital Arts Program.  I finally got around to seeing to it.  I started out this venture with a gray belt.  (MCMAP belts tan-gray-green-brown-black)  I haven't done any MCMAP in over 2 years, when I got my gray belt in Iraq.  First things first...I got beat up more than I have in a long, long time.  I finally tested out for my green belt.

I'm Still In Afghanistan

Stop telling me how close it's getting till I come home!  Stop trying to get me to count down the days.  I will not do it.  I'm quickly growing tired of everyone saying how close I am to going home.  It's almost as if it's said to comfort or reassure me.  I need neither comfort nor reassurance.  All I need to do is stay focused on the fact that I am still in Afghanistan and I have a job to do.  When it comes time to leave, I will leave this place and attempt to think of it no longer.  I will cherish the first embraces and kisses of my wife and children, as well as the rest of my family and friends, when that time comes.  (No Benjamin, Donny, or Keith, do not expect a kiss from me.  A bro-hug for sure, but no kiss.)

It's almost ridiculous to think about...you're telling me that I'm almost there, that I'm so close, but in reality I'm still 7,000 miles away from home, in Afghanistan!

You try it and see how close to home you feel.

Father and Daughters

Lately I have spent a lot of time thinking about my children.  I am surrounded by reminders of them.  At my office I have pictures that they have colored for me as well as the Father's Day card which has a picture of all of us.  I also have the pictures we had taken prior to me deploying.  In my room, right next to my bed, taped to the wall are the pictures that I had with each of the girls at Chuck E. Cheese's in Jacksonville, North Carolina, while I was doing predeployment training workups.

I am constantly checking Heidi's Facebook page for new pictures of the girls.  I know that the children in the pictures are my own, but they are not the way that I remember them.  I see my daughters growing up through photographs.  It is a double-edged sword.  On one hand I love seeing those bright blue eyes that all three of them inherited from their mother.  I love seeing the expressions on their faces.  It allows me to imagine what they are thinking or saying at the moment the picture was taken.  I smile.

The other side of the sword often cuts deep.  It reminds me of how very far away from them that I am.  I see the things that they are doing and the places that they are going without me.  It hurts that I'm not there with them.  I miss giving hugs and butterfly kisses in our own secret, special way that no one else knows each night before they fall asleep.

That's the thing that I wonder about the most.  I know reconnecting with the kids after a deployment is a challenge.  Maybe not at first, but eventually there's some fallout of being gone for so long.  Trust me, after a couple of deployments I have firsthand experience.  It's the little things.  When the kids get hurt they don't come to me, they go to Heidi.  When the kids want some chocolate milk they don't go to me, they go to Heidi.  When they are tired they don't want to lay on my lap, they lay on Heidi's.  This time I wonder if Kennedy has grown to the age where she no longer needs butterfly kisses from her dad.

KK was just a baby when I left and returned the first time.  She was a little older the last time.  I don't think Reagan or McKinley have any recollection of my second deployment.  I'm glad for that.  I'd rather them not remember me being gone.  This time though there is no way around it.  Kennedy especially is at an age where she'll remember me being gone.  The other two will hopefully forget over time.  I hope that when they are older they will understand why I chose this job.

I try not to dwell on the what if's of returning.  There are too many things more important than that mind game.

I miss my girls.  More than they know.  Even from the other side of the world, in the terrible place that I am, they bring a joy to my life that I cannot describe with words.  I am about two months away from being with them again.  To say that I can't wait would be an understatement.

What To Talk About

I've been thinking all night tonight that I should have something to say.  I should talk about something that's happened recently or some of the thoughts that I've had.  Here's what I've come up with..........

I almost cut off my pointer finger on my left hand.  Being that I'm left-handed, that probably would not have been really all that good for me.  I didn't really almost cut it off, but I had a nasty gash about an inch and a half long.  The really deep part was right next to the finger nail.  The medical officer told me that if it hadn't been so close to the nail she would've put a few stitches in my finger.  Instead they used this stuff called Dermabond, which is basically super glue to close the wound.

Good story, huh?