Happy Halloween

Trick-or-Treating, school parties, bobbing for apples, Harvest Festivals, Trunk-or-Treats... Many will forego these Halloween traditions during this unprecedented year, where a global pandemic has altered our way of participating in many cherished Fall festivities. 

As military families, we've learned to adapt, overcome, and rise to the challenge. Retiring Our Boots has only sharpened our resiliency all the more, and this Halloween would be a resounding success if we had anything to do with it! 

After Denys, the Coalition's Donor Relations Manager and HTH Alumni, shared her vision for a special Halloween celebration for our kids, the planning began! And last Friday, after much anticipation, our families from across the nation met virtually for a night of fun, games, and laughter! The event was something positive to look forward to after a week of learning, work, and daily obligations. It was an hour to set aside our worries and safely come together as one big family with the focus on our children. 

From kitties to SpongeBob to a unicorn and Bendy, 24 kiddos were in attendance. Costumes were admired, favorite candies were discussed, and giggles were abounding. Denys opened the night with a spooktacular reading of the children's story, Room on the Broom. 

Guess the Amount was a crowd favorite hosted by Lulu the Kitty and her mom Jessica, who is also one of our awesome Senior Team Leads! With 107 delicious candy corn pieces and pumpkins in the jar, Elsa had a near-perfect guess of 105. 

To wrap up the fa-boo-lous night, we played several rounds of Halloween BINGO! From 5 in a row to four corners to creating an "X" with the removable bingo markers, we had many winners, including the Spooky Brothers, the Mullens, and the Sneaky Mummy.

With all the smiles we saw, we know this will be a night that will not be easily forgotten! In fact, it's quite possible it may become an annual event!

From our family to yours...

Have a Safe 

AND

Happy Halloween!

"The Warrior is a Child"

 

"Lately I've been winning battles left and right. But even winners can get wounded in a fight. People think that I'm amazing, strong beyond my years. But they don't see inside of me, I'm hiding all my tears."- Twila Paris

In 1984 singer/songwriter Twila Paris released the song "The Warrior is a Child." I remember being asked to sing this song at least once or twice a year for church service. At the time, I didn't have a full grasp of the meaning of the words. I mean, the lyrics were powerful, and I understood that it touched a lot of people's hearts, but why all the tears from the congregation? It wasn't until this last year that the song's full meaning hit me. I look around at my fellow caregivers and veterans and am humbled at their warrior spirit. I see the brave fronts, the desire to push through adversity, and the need to succeed no matter how hard it may be.

Last week my warrior and I moved from Maryland to our new home in Missouri. While the movers were loading the truck in Maryland, an A-10 Thunderbolt flew over us. My warrior stopped what he was doing, came over to where I was standing out of view from the others, and fell apart. He put his head on my shoulder and cried. He told me that the sound of an A-10 is bittersweet and shook him to the core. I need to explain that my warrior is one of the strongest no-nonsense men I have ever met. He can come across as extremely harsh, confrontational, and unforgiving. However, at that moment, my warrior was overwhelmed with emotions and needed reassurance that he wasn't alone in his battle.

Our combat warriors have seen and done things that we, as civilians, cannot possibly understand. How many times has an insensitive friend or family member said, "My John Doe died in combat" in regards to their still living warrior? In their mind, their loved one did not come home the same as when they left. I have known my warrior for over 34 years. I know that he is not the same boy I knew as a teenager. My brother served 26 years in Army SF, and I can say without a doubt he did not come home the same brother after his first deployment. The focus should be that they BOTH came home alive! With each deployment, there was a cost that had to be paid. Our soldiers have and are still paying that cost with their failing mental and physical health. 

Our military caregivers are warriors in another way. How many caregivers are not only caring for their wounded warriors, working, AND have the additional stress of homeschooling during COVID? I cannot imagine the emotional or physical strain of trying to keep it all together. There are not enough hours in a day to fight the battles COVID alone has brought. However, thousands of military caregivers across the world are doing just that.

My warrior tells me that I am his safe place. He depends on me for emotional balance and safety. Having traumatic brain disease means that every day I lose a little more of the boy I once knew, and yet he battles on. I tell my warrior that he is my safe place as well. I know that he would die to protect me because he has already proven it with the sacrifices he made while serving our country. No matter who you are, what you do, or where you live, there needs to be that special place where you can allow yourself to express your struggles. Every warrior, no matter how strong their armor is, will, at some point "drop their sword and cry for just a while," and that is absolutely ok.

Written By Justina Lyn, Heroes Thanking Heroes Representative & Veteran Caregiver 

Military Lingo 101

It was the summer of 1986 when I first met my wounded warrior (WW), Curtis. He was a senior while I was a sophomore. We met in front of the administration building of a private Christian boarding school. Established students formed a line to welcome new students. It was in this line where I first met one of the best friends I would ever make and future husband. I'm sharing this snippet of history because Curtis and I were both taught how to speak relatively proper English. Growing up in California meant that we didn't speak with a twang, drawl, or use what I thought were funny terms like 'all y'all.' I had certainly never been exposed to military lingo.

Curtis joined the Army right after graduation. I did not hear his voice again until nearly 27 years later. When we first talked, I did not think it was the same person. He had this sexy southern accent. Where did his California diction go? How could someone suddenly start speaking and sounding like someone else? It turns out that he spent a lot of his military career in the southern states. His experiences in the South took the country boy persona to a whole new level. Added to his new accent were terms I had never heard before. I'd hear him tell his boys when complaining of aches and pains, 'embrace the suck.' How does a person physically embrace a metaphor? While out shopping, I got a text asking, 'what's your grid'? My response was something to the effect of him needing to check for typos. Then there was the time I was struggling with making a career decision, and I was told 'time to cut sling load.' I remember looking at him with a very confused expression on my face. In the beginning of our relationship, I felt like I needed a Dummy's Guide to Military Lingo. At the very least, I needed one of those translation apps for my phone. I was completely out of my depth both as a caregiver and sweetheart. I wasn't a military wife who had learned the verbiage alongside their soldier. I was a middle-aged woman forced to learn a foreign language from a seasoned combat veteran.

Communicating with me was a struggle for Curtis as well. I had worked in church ministries for decades to include living overseas as a civilian. He liked to tease me for speaking the Queen's English. I tried to explain that using words that were more than three syllables was in no way similar to speaking like a Royal. He, however, used a lot of four-letter words that I found to be highly offensive. It took many months until he was able to explain that he was simply enunciating his feelings or ideas. I soon realized that there was a lot of "enunciating" in the military and not to take it personally.

It has taken several years, but I think we have sorted through our language barrier. I find myself telling people that Curtis low crawled through my defenses in regard to our courtship. The other day he told a cashier their "attitude was completely inappropriate." My heart nearly exploded with elation. He had used a five-syllable word and expressed himself properly rather than enunciating with a four-letter word. Recently, during a discussion about how life hasn't turned out like we wanted it to this year, I said, "Well, sweetheart, I guess it's time to adjust fire and move on." Every now and again, I need help translating a term when we are at a military event. I have learned a lot but have a long way still to go. It is an adjustment on both sides to learn another's language. It is even harder for the person who has chosen to leave their world behind to join that of someone in the military community. The military community is a close-knit family with its own rules, language, and traditions that can be somewhat daunting to learn. My veteran may think that the Infantry is the Queen of battle, but I think those of us who are new to the whole military life could make a good argument that we come close.

Written by Justina Lyn, Veteran Caregiver & Heroes Thanking Heroes Representative

Goodbye Ben and Jerry, Hello Kale

 “Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary.” – Fred Rogers

The subject of mental health is one that has become increasingly recognizable in the world and mainstream within the military community. For many veterans and caregiver's mental health issues are as normal as breathing. Although talked about frequently amongst us, there still seems to be a negative connotation to the words mental illness when speaking with those outside of the military community. Even within the military community, the topic of mental illness is avoided if the spouse is active duty. The world has come a long way in normalizing mental illness, but there still seems to be a stigma attached to those who admit to battling depression or any other mental health diagnosis.

During this pandemic, I have had some significant struggles with mental health. Even before Covid-19, depression and I were more than mere acquaintances. With alcoholism running in my family, I learned at an early age to avoid that particular dependency. My personal poison is sugar. I am a hard-core sugar addict. My veteran and I have been living full time in our RV since July 2019. Imagine sharing less than 150sq ft of space with a veteran who is a 100% physically and mentally disabled. Now imagine doing that during a pandemic while sheltering in place. On top of everything, I was in my final semester of University. In a week, I went through two family-size bags of M&M’s, three large bags of Lindt Dark Chocolate Truffles, several pints of Ben and Jerry’s, and other wonderfully delicious sweeties. I was eating my pain. My panic and anxiety were nearly uncontrollable. Every day I seemed to sink further into a depressive state made worse by increasing stress from school, life, and my veteran's own deteriorating mental health. I knew that I was gaining weight, but since I lived mostly in leggings and hoodies, denial was made easy.

In May, I visited my mom in Oklahoma for Mother's Day. My sister insisted on taking pictures with my mom and then posted them on Facebook. When I saw the picture, my first reaction was ‘OMG I am so fat!’ quickly followed by ‘my sister is an evil witch for posting such an unflattering picture!’ That picture was the catalyst to a complete life change. I was tired of feeling miserable about life and myself. I had strong feelings of resentment, anger, panic, and anxiety about nearly everything. The sludge I felt on the inside was overflowing into my relationship with my veteran and other family members. One of the saving graces during this time is the bi-monthly counseling appointment with my VA caregiver coordinator. I felt that I lacked the ability to control nearly every aspect of my life. I decided to stop letting sweeties dictate my happiness or, in my case, the lack of. Together, my caregiver coordinator and I set reasonable goals for managing my stress. I started walking a mile three times a week and omitting all sweeties from my life. I’ll admit that in the beginning, it was absolutely brutal walking a mile. I felt like I was going to pass out and die from exhaustion. There were days when my veteran and I were at each other's throats, and I just wanted to be left alone with my good pals Ben & Jerry. I started keeping a daily journal. In the beginning, more often than not, I would only have the energy to write ‘life sucks, but I’m still alive.’ As the days turned into weeks and then months, my entries became more positive than negative, my body stronger, and relationships healthier.

I am now walking four-five days a week and an average of three miles. I still avoid sugar and complex carbs like the plague. I have a long way to go, but have learned to accept the changes as a permanent fixture in my life. I still struggle with depression and panic attacks, but they are manageable compared to controlling every moment of every day. When I wake up in the morning, I make the conscious choice to be happy. Some mornings are easier to make that choice than others. There are days I want to stay in bed, hide under the blankets, and disappear because I am emotionally exhausted. Being a full-time caregiver adds another level of responsibility to the necessity of maintaining a positive attitude. In the quote by Fred Rogers, as mentioned above, talking about our feelings really does help them to become more manageable. It could be that talking about them comes in the form of prayer/meditation, journaling, writing poems, art, or music. I believe it is important to utilize the resources provided through the VA and non-profits like the Coalition in regards to mentoring and counseling. These resources are lifelines and can be lifesavers. It may seem hopeless when the sludge is so deep it seems to cut off the ability to move or breathe. Trust me; there is always hope. Reaching up for help while sinking in the muck of a challenging life was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

Written by: Justina Lyn, HTH Representative & Veteran Caregiver

16 Year Alive Day

16 years now.

Man, when you look at where you’re at in life, being a veteran takes only a small amount of time and really does impact so many other areas of your life.

I posted recently in our Veterans Circle FB page that our military has written a blank check made payable to The United States of America for an amount up to & including my life. Some pay that price all at once, on foreign battlefields, while others like me are paying it over a lifetime.

You may be wondering why I say it like that and believe me, I had to search for the words that best fit the situation. The situation is that the physical scars caused by that bullet tearing through my face have long ago healed. The mental scars are always healing, but the effects of that injury are a weight that I’ve carried all along, and it’s getting heavier and heavier.  

Yes, age plays a part in aggravating the wear and tear that serving in the military puts us through. Some mornings you wake up so sore in your back, neck, and elsewhere that the thought of just staying in bed becomes a viable option. You can’t do that, though. If you choose to get out of bed and get your body moving, you’re helping to reclaim a little bit of your life. Sounds too simple to be true, right? It’s not.

In the years since that night in Mahmoudiya Iraq, when I really didn’t think I was going to make it home, a lot has changed for me. My job has evolved from being a volunteer with an amazing organization to being a leader. My education has expanded to include my B.S. degree, and in about 2 months I’ll complete a 1-year M.B.A. program. I want my education to inspire my kids and family to see that if I can do it, so can they. Lastly, and most importantly, my family has changed. The baby daughter I thought of while in Iraq and later while lying in a hospital bed is now a senior in high school, driving and filling out college applications, and she even has a boyfriend that I really like. He’s a future Marine and will subject himself to the same types of challenges that I’ve gone through. To not only earn the title of US Marine but to uphold the traditions, values and integrity that make a great service member. My son is now a 7th grader and has become an incredible baseball player, gamer, and the best big & little brother his sisters could ever hope for. My little one, our little surprise, is now 3, and she’s giving us all the joy and frustration that come with the terrible twos, but we couldn’t imagine our life without her.

My wife has changed too. I’m the one living with the physical pain from my wounds, but my wife has been equally burdened by the weight of my injury. She worries about me first thing in the morning and when she goes to bed. She gets me now too. Completely. She knows with a look if I’m hurting, if I’m confused, or even if I’m reminiscing about my days in the Marines. She just knows. She has watched me have seizures. She’s watched me trying to find a reprieve from my pain without using heavy medications, and this entire time, she’s been my biggest supporter, my caregiver, and my best friend. There’s never been a day that I haven’t thought to myself, “there’s no way I’d be this far in my recovery and my life without her by my side.” She doesn’t get enough credit for keeping me going, but she is my motivation to keep living, to keep fighting and endure whatever I have to in the pursuit of inspiring my family.

If you’re reading this and you have been through a lot, you have to know by now that you can keep going. Like the SEALS are famous for saying, “the only easy day was yesterday,” and if you made it through yesterday, today is no different. My days are a little slower with a lot more pain, but they are so completely and totally worth it.

If I can do it, you can do it.

Written by: Donny Daughenbaugh, USMC (Ret.) 

Perfection is in the Eyes of the Beholder

 

As with many families in and outside of the military community, ours is a blended family. I am the quintessential hippie chick from Northern California who believes all dreams are possible. My veteran, however, is the typical combat seasoned soldier who will say what he thinks no matter how it sounds. If you don't like what he says too bad, just rub some dirt on it and move on. When my veteran and I first started dating, I had the grandiose idea that our six adult children would all get along. I envisioned us gathering together as one big happy family around the campfire singing Kumbaya. With marriage, we became the modern Brady Bunch with three girls and three boys between us.

The first time our middle children met (at the age of 22 years old), they decided they wanted to date as well. The idea of mother/daughter dates with father/son worked out well until it didn't, and they broke up. I was expected to side with my daughter and my veteran with his son. When I refused to choose a side, my daughter interpreted it as me choosing my veteran and son over her. This led to a lot of hurt feelings, the silent treatment for nearly two years, and heartache. I really just wanted everyone to get along and hold hands, but that was unrealistic. Adult children are just that; adults who have their own ideas about what and who they want in their quality world.

Our oldest daughters have the same name, except one is Cassy and the other Kassie. In the beginning, the firstborn clashed and did not like each other. They are both bossy and domineering. It took 6 years, but the C(K) assandra's have decided that they can co-exist as long as they both stay the head of their respective younger siblings. They now refer to themselves along with my middle daughter as the Three Witches Club.

Our youngest boys did not like sharing the attention with the only mom either of them had. Coming into this family, my veteran's youngest was the only child from wife number two. He was abandoned by his mother after the divorce. I am the only mom he has, but my son developed an unhealthy jealousy. Both of the babies in our families went active duty Army and served together at Ft. Campbell. They rarely saw one another due to this complex rivalry. As a mom and stepmom, it has been challenging to be equally attentive without my own children feeling slighted.

Holidays are complicated with our adult children spread across America. Get-togethers have been made even more difficult because of my veteran's severe TBI and PTSD. He has said some terrible things to all of the children, but my children have taken it very personally. Of his two sons, one is married and the other engaged. My veteran used to be very close to the eldest son, but cruel and cutting words spoken to the fiancée have dampened the relationship. In my veteran's mind, he is merely speaking the truth. He legitimately doesn't understand why feelings have been hurt, and relationships strained. I cannot undo the psychological damage and distance that unkind words carry with them. I no longer try to explain that their dad/stepdad is in a tremendous amount of emotional and physical pain. I have attempted to educate them that his symptoms will only worsen, to be patient and non-confrontational. Having been upgraded to traumatic brain disease (TBD), his symptoms mirror that of dementia.

It may seem that I am painting a picture of gloom and doom, but that is not the case. I did not end up with the perfect blended family full of smiles and singing campfire songs. What I have is the perfect but imperfect family with adult children who are finding their own way in life just as my veteran and I are. The C(K) assndra's have turned out to be the most patient and helpful, which is a surprise to everyone. My middle daughter recently extended an olive branch and invited her stepfather to her upcoming wedding. Our youngest son recently drove out from Tennessee to spend two weeks with his dad. His willingness to help allowed me the freedom to fly to Maryland to go wedding dress shopping with my daughter. As our children have entered their mid and late 20's a new level of maturity and understanding of their dad/stepdad's disabilities have developed.

I do not foresee a day when all six children and spouses will be together in our home. I have given up on the dream of singing Kumbaya or even a family picture. A person could quite literally drive themselves crazy trying to create the perfect family, the perfect home, and the perfect life without success. I have learned to accept that life isn't meant to be perfect because I would miss out on opportunities to grow as a person. I enjoy and cherish every happy memory made, make every effort to learn from today, and extend grace to those around me, praying they will do the same.

Written by Justina Lyn