Barbie Wife? Seriously?!

Yeah.  So... apparently, that's my nickname on the USS Texas.
Can't decide if I"m horribly offended or graciously flattered...depends on when you ask me?  The thing is, it's not the first time I've been associated with iconic plastic supermodel doll, and I'm not quite sure what to make of it.
But, hey!  If so, where the heck is my metallic hot pink convertible Corvette and wardrobes full of hoaky but undeniably darling outfits with perfectly matching shoes, bag and hair brush?
BTW... kind of an oxymoron... Barbie was a teenage supermodel, she wasn't intended to be a wife, Mattel just got greedy and had to go there.
Dramatic Sigh.  It's a high calling, I will aspire to make the her proud.  (Barbie, not the USS Texas.  Just to be clear.)

Giggle.
I just couldn't resist.
Hey, if the shoe fits, right?  ;)

identity crisis...again

Disclaimer:  Staying true to the title of this blog, here I rant.
The United States Navy has bred it's own form of codependency. 
The more I experience this phenomena called the Navy Wife, the more I crave access to mainland civilian individuals.  The more I infiltrate this culture, the less I want to be a part of it, and not for each individual, but the general effect.  The title, Navy Wife, could arguably be considered a syndrome.  Symptoms?  Anxiety, neediness, caddiness.  Feelings of abandonment, and resentment.  Depression and hopelessness leading to avoidance and isolation and sometimes recklessness.  I fear this quiet hysteria just might be contagious. 
Before contracting Navy Wife, I was a self-sufficient, professional and productive contributing member of society that other professionals respected and revered.  I was confident, important and successful.
Now, I feel the hysteria creep in when he leaves me alone.  It's foriegn and very unattractive.
"Hi.  My name is Brandi, and I'm codependent."
What happened?! 
The side effects of yanking a girl with significant inertia (see November post, "Great is the day...") from her civilian life and isolating her on an island while shipping her husband off for months at a time.  Oh!  And leaving her with little to no job prospects to occupy her time and make her feel productive.
(Side bar:  Reviewing my words I realize that, most likely, they will be grossly misunderstood.  It appears that I'm insulting my peers, ungrateful for my life, and unhappy with my husband.  Unfortuntate, because absolutely inaccurate.  Continue.)
I embrace being Navy Wife positive, because it supports Michael and his chosen calling.  And while it's terminal with no cure, it's certainly treatable.  Those good days I get with my Hubby increase those antibodies.  It flares up occasionally but when the fever subsides, my immune system is stronger, and I can survive the next infection.  Those who suffer know what I speak of.

Puppyhood...parenthood?

I wrote this 5 days ago and have been toying with the idea of posting... I figured, what do I have to lose?
Deep in the trenches of being fully owned by a furball that's only been in existence for 9 weeks. How is it possible, that this creature, not even human, could be so powerful? He alone, more times than I care to admit, makes or breaks me. (And, I read that confidence in dog training/owning is everything. If that's true, I'm screwed. Sometimes. Not always. Depends on when you ask.)
The biggest surprise? Not the accidents in the house. Not the amount of time and money involved. Not how attached I am so soon. Not even the amount of advice, solicited or not, that I've received...
Biggest surprise; My focus, goal, obsession for the past 2 years of my life that has completely consumed me much of the time is... ... ... missing. The weirdest thing is, I thought I would be relieved, and I am, to a point. Truth be told, I'm a little uneasy about it, mostly I think, because I don't completely understand it. Or, could it be because I've been so busy obsessing I don't know what to do with the free space in my brain? Part of me wonders if I broke my mommy gene because not only have I gone from no longer wanting so urgently, I've almost swung the opposite way. That's right my friends... I am no longer sure that I want children. Go figure.
The thing is, I can picture this life, our life, Michael and Brandi, our small menagerie along, and I'm okay with the way it is right now. Even more than okay, I'm quite content with it. That's never been the case before. It's funny, for years now, I've prayed desperately for peace and contentment with my situation, and here it is, I just didn't think it would come this way, I guess.
I hear your thoughts, my greatest of friends, "Oh, Brandi... you don't mean it, you're just too busy with the new puppy, you'll change your mind again..." But I don't know... I just feel so different this time. I'm really enjoying the fact that my body, my husband, my home and my life are my own. (With the exception of the animals.) Just not sure I'm willing to share any of that anymore.

WORLD RULER

Name:  Kona, Hawaiian for "World Ruler" 
(Appropriate?  More than intended.  A good thing?  Jury's still out.)
Birth Date:  November 5, 2009
Weight:  17 lbs?  (Changes every day)
Favorite past times:  Eating, chewing, sleeping, peeing (on the floor, preferably), eating, attempting to chase kitties, fully occupying Mom's every second, thought and action.

Shameless Theif!

I think I may have a problem...
In his absence, I've reluctantly discovered my husband's accusations hold validity.
I am, in fact a ruthless, blatant, relentless cover theif.  Sleeping without Michael, I wake up clutching a massive wad of sheet/comforter all balled up between my arms.  Consequently, whatever side of the bed I'm not on, is completely void of cover.
 I can hear him now, learning of my admittance, "Finally!  I told you, you always steal the covers!  I have to steal them back from you!"  Poor Michael. One would think that fighting for his country would be enough, but his wife makes him fight for his blanket, too.  Good thing I'm always the chilly one and he truly loves me.

Emotional Land Mines

The "ghosts" of lifetimes past...
It's crazy, and a little dangerous!  Just cruising along, minding my own, and a strange, random, but super vivid memory just throws itself right smack in my path - zero warning!
Returning to a place that very much stays the same (Thousand Oaks) when I've changed so much is eery...  land mines of situations, interactions and feelings a constant threat to my present train of thought.  It's bizarre, I find myself almost weary at times, waiting for these borrowed memories to jump out at me again.  I say borrowed because even though they are my memories, they don't feel like mine.  That Brandi, she's so not this Brandi and that one seems like a million years ago.
It's great though, I'm so proud, like the parent of a toddler that successfully climbs into the big rocking chair for the first time on her own, I practically jump up and down and clap my hands in praise for myself thinking, "Good job, Brandi!  Look how much you've grown and how far you've come!  I'm so proud of you!"
So silly.

So much of me is from what I was/did/experienced here.  No wonder my mom never likes to move back to the same place twice.  You constantly encounter this shadow of the other you - the you that was you then, but isn't you now...crazy.

Great is the day...

Great is the day that one can realize how truly blessed she is. This is a great day.
It has not been an easy year. Bouts of... distance and disappointment, jealousy and bitterness, loneliness and anger.

Inertia: noun. The vis insita, or innate force of matter is a power of resisting, by which every body, as much as in it lies, endeavors to preserve in its present state, whether it be of rest, or of moving uniformly forward in a straight line.

It's a stubborn, palpable force. I've come to realize my life has been a study- example, if you will, of the effects of the concept. Inertia. It's a pain in the butt. I've spent most of my life either clutching the doorframe, white knuckled and dead weight against the drag of inevitable life change... or... pushing, throwing myself, red faced, breath held, sliding against the undefineable mass, trying to force whatever's not moving, to move.

In the end, the inertia of life always wins. Hands down, no matter what.

So, here's to my new mantra of life: It is what it is. (Thank you, Wendy.)

Through being forced to view all of my "creature comforts" of home as cargo, through literally not knowing where home is or how to get there, through wanting something so desperately- to be completely consumed with that desire and not knowing how to keep breathing when the realization comes that physically aching for it doesn't make it mine, through having no clue where my husband is, how he is doing or when I will talk to him/see him again, I've had no choice but to decide what really matters and what is worth my energy.

I have been thrust into a situation of intense growth and self discovery and raw emotional release.

It's not all draining, painful and labored, though...

I've been given the gift of relationships.

This amazing opportunity to connect with and experience so many remarkable, incredible every day people. And, I get to have them all as a part of my life!

I have so many heartstrings... I often struggle to maintain those connections. I'm best face-to-face, I'm terrible about calling, I'm slightly better on good old FB... but that's just because it's instant, mass gratification.

Regardless of my communication shortcomings...

I collect people, relationships, invaluable moments. I am blessed, I am fortunate, it is good.