In response to
The Other Veteran
I've always been ashamed of calling myself a veteran. Maybe ashamed isn't the correct term. Hesitant? It has just never felt right to me.
I served in the United States Navy for 4 years 3 months & 13 days. On March 28th, 2013 I took one good last look at the ship that had become my home, the USS Nimitz CVN 68, and with mixed (but mostly relieved/excited emotions) I said yippy ki yay motherclucker to everything that had consumed my life for the last 1,564 days.
It was a little like my first day in the Navy. Scary. Exciting. New. Thrilling. The hardest thing to explain to civilians when you leave the military is how much of your life is the militay. Everything. Is. The. Military. I didn't just work for the Navy. I ate, shit, slept, worked, bled the Navy.
When I left the Navy my daughter was just a few months shy of turning three, I hadn't seen her in one year and nine months. I hadn't smelled her sweet hair, touched her soft skin, experienced the joy of her smile or heard one I love you, Mommy in one year and nine months. My heart was heavy. My mind was numb. I had dealt with the pain like any other Sailor. Work hard by day, drink hard by night.
Work hard by day, drink hard by night.
Work hard by day, drink hard by night.
Work hard by day, drink hard by night.
Work hard by day, drink hard by night.
Eat. Shit. Sleep. Repeat.
My ship had been doing various small underways. Couple of weeks in San Diego. Couple of weeks in the middle of the ocean. Couple of the months in the middle of the ocean. Weekend in Hawaii. Week at sea. Weekend in San Francisco. Week at sea. Et cetera, et cetera. We were preparing for a nine month deployment to the middle east. Because of the turbulent schedule I made the decision to send my daughter down to Mississippi to live with her father, my estranged husband. From the moment my plane left Memphis that winter day I knew that things were not going to go well.
In the ensuing months I was allowed less and less contact with my daughter. Soon I couldn't remember her smiling face. The smell of her fresh baby skin. Her beautiful laughter. Instead of letting me see her, my husband started threatening to shoot me if I tried. His mother said I was exaggerating. My interactions with my daughter became nothing and instead I cried, drank and worked.
I begged my chain of command to let me go home, get divorced and start the custody battle. If I could only get the custody battle solved he would be forced to let me see my daughter and I wouldn't have to leave the Navy and I could be a happy single mother in the military that still has a healthy relationship with her daughter. The answer was always no. The mission was always first. The ship was always first. So, I cried, drank more and worked.
Afraid of being a 23 year old single mother in the failing economy of the civilian world I convinced myself that one day I’d wake up, my situation would have somehow magically changed and everything would be okay.
I chose my daughter. I was honorably discharged for lack of long term care for my daughter from the military. I was never deployed. I was never shot at, never saw the world, never sacrificed my life on the line. There are many brothers and sisters that stood next to me that chose the military. Men and women who went months and years without seeing their children. Back to back deployments, ribbons out the ying yang, the whole shebang. I just couldn't cut it. I guess that’s why I find it hard to call myself a veteran.
Don’t get me wrong, I am damn proud of my service in the Navy. I am proud of the men and women that stood beside me. Always ready, always working, always training. When I look back at my service I remember how amazing the experience was.
I can remember swabbing the deck in my coveralls all alone, looking out in the middle of the ocean, nothing around us, salt stinging my face, headphones in, and a motherfucking pod of dolphins swimming beside us as the sun rose over the pacific ocean. It’s hard for me to even believe these experiences are real.
It has now been one year, seven months and nine days since I last saw that ship. I am sitting at my desk, it’s 5:13pm and when the clock strikes 6:00pm
