The Distance

“Never compare your journey with someone else’s. Your journey is YOUR journey; not a competition.” – Author Unknown.

I’ve actually needed some inspiration to find the words for the realization that I have been fighting over the past few weeks. This post has been inspired by several conversations that Duane and I have had lately, but strangely when I have tried to sit down and put those talks and our feelings into words for the “public eye,” I’ve been struggling.

We are approaching the four month mark of being separated and are starting to figure out the “hard parts” of an even farther apart relationship. For the most part we have always been apart—when I went to Washington D.C., when I moved to Kansas City… but those distances were temporary and we usually saw each other every week. Now, we are averaging every month and a half.

We do as much as we can to keep the relationship “normal.” Talk on the phone, text, Skype—we even have dates: watch TV together, he’ll call and tuck me into bed some nights, etc. 

But after I went home in October, I realized that there really wasn’t much “us” time, as there is “everyone” time because going home is now a BIG deal! Everyone is excited to see me, not just Duane. And I am just as excited to see them, but we have such limited time.

The past several weeks I have been so focused on living vi-carelessly through other’s relationships, especially with this time of year coming about. I feel as though all the things Duane and I got to do for the past two years (and made a tradition of) suddenly do not exist.

One of the hardest moments was watching people carve pumpkins together. Aside from dressing up for Halloween with our friends, this is the one thing that we would do. This year, Duane opted out and I just blocked people’s pictures as they appeared on my Facebook.

I can see how some could think it may be childish, but I guess I never really thought of how completely different little moments would be.

I often feel like our lives are being imitated since we can’t participate. Almost like certain people know that we are apart so they are doing the things they know Duane and I would do.. (I think that is just me thinking too much!) But, I am often reminded that I am here for a reason. And that Duane and I have our own special relationship that people cannot imitate.

As cliché as it sounds, Duane is the one person that holds me together. Despite my many “down moments” because of a missed opportunity from being so far away, he is always trying to find a new way to help make us both feel like we are right there.

The distance part of our relationship was nothing new to us. But, it has brought forth several obstacles that we have faced together. I am sure this won’t be the last of them…

“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.” – Dr. Seuss

My New Normal

It was Wednesday and like any other morning; I was started off in the same old routine. My alarm goes off at 6:10, I read through text messages on my phone, I brush my teeth and continue to get ready for my day, ultimately leaving my house for work by 7 or slightly thereafter.

But not this Wednesday, instead the one day that I really needed to be on time to work on time, no matter what, it seemed nearly in possible.

You see, while I am getting in ready in the morning, my whole thought process revolves around a three things: 1) What am I going to wear? 2) What will I pack for lunch? And, 3) What do I need to get done today?

I replay these thoughts over in my head until they are complete.

As I went to find the outfit I had formulated in my head, I had quickly discovered that the shirt I wanted to wear was nowhere to be found. As I frantically searched, I came across a different shirt which changed my whole game plan. From there I decided I would wear my black cardigan instead of the green one I originally planned to wear. And to my surprise, the cardigan was missing.

I literally tore my bedroom apart trying to find either of the shirts I wanted to wear. I knew that the day was supposed to be cold, so I wanted to be prepared to say the least.

While in the middle of the massive search, I managed to trip over the pair of shoes I laid out to wear which only led to more frustration.

By the time 7 rolled around, I was stressed out and crying, that I called Duane and vented my whole frustration out on him. I basically expected him to fly here and find one of the shirts I was looking for and I wasn’t willing to change my pants to wear another cardigan nor was I about to agree that a green cardigan matched a maroon top.

We came to the conclusion that I would just go to work without a cardigan and wear the black fleece I leave at the office.

Sure enough as I step out of my apartment to go to the garage I discover it is pouring down rain. It would rain at a time when I have no time to change, or grab a jacket and my umbrella is in the car. So I made a mad semi-run in my heels to the garage.

On my way to work my mom calls. As chipper as she was I was not in the mood to talk. I told her that my clothes are magically disappearing, I tripped over my shoes, and now it’s pouring outside and I have an interview at work at 8 and I’m running late. She repeatedly laughed at the fact that I tripped over my shoes because it always seems when I get super frustrated, I trip over something.

After hanging up with her, I call Duane back. I immediately say “I am sorry, it’s just my closet is eating my clothes.” He replies with, “how long has this been happening?” I stated, “for about three weeks but it [the closet] doesn’t seem to be replacing the clothes it’s taking with new ones.” Needless to say, he accepted my apology.

I wrap up my phone call with him when I got so close to work…. But so far away. It would be my luck that at 7:30 (the time I am supposed to be in the office), there is a line backed up at the gate that feels like a mile long! I immediately turn around to go in the south entrance gate and find the line is still pretty long, but I am now stuck in it.

By 7:45, I am officially late to work and should be heading to my interview by now, but I am just now walking into my office.  I made it to my interview, pushing 8 o’clock; I guess better right on time then late.

After the interview, we get back into the office and get a call from the Command Post telling us to be advised of heavy snowfall tonight between 1500 and 1700. First off, I was not even prepared for the rain this morning and now they are saying snow!? Second, it’s October 3… you’ve got to be kidding me!!

Anyways, back on the rain subject: Strangely, this has been my first full day of rain since I have been up here, so I am not really familiar with “how to keep on working while you stand out in the rain.”

Earlier this week I lured a few Airmen doing a shoot with the K-9 unit. At the last minute I got a call saying that due to the weather, the training was moved inside. I was already planning on tagging along but was hoping it was canceled due to the rain. We go to the training to learn that they plan on do another portion of the training outside. I completely forgot it was raining (because it wasn’t when we drove over) so when they asked if we wanted to come over to the kennels to get more shots, I quickly replied that we would be there.

I am sure many of you can imagine where this lousy Wednesday/ story is leading to-- me being out in the cold, windy, rain, walking through puddles and mud (lots of mud) in my high heels.

Once again, I have been summoned to dress more for work. Wear boots. 

Faced with Reality

I can’t begin to count the number of times I have moved from place to place. Well, actually I could. It all occurred when I graduated high school, moving to campus  and then back home—three times, until I got my own apartment, but let’s not forget the two times that I moved to Washington D.C. for the summer. With this transition, I have officially moved 10 times in the past five years. I think for most college students and recent graduates, this is fairly common. The only tricky part is having to list the address, dates you lived there and someone you knew well enough that can verify your existence for each one on a federal background check.

Coincidently, the one thing that the moves have all had in common is that their lengths didn’t last long. Even here in Minot, my stay is only a year and a half.

Personally, I think I made the best decision I could have possibly made for myself, career wise, by choosing to come up here. Granted,  I’ve had these false pretenses in my head that winter really isn’t that bad up here and that the weather couldn’t possibly reach negative 40 degrees with 40 mph winds and snow everywhere, but I am starting to let that idea go, and fast!

I’ve only been here two months and I’ve learn, experienced and seen so many things that I do not believe I would have been given the opportunity to do so elsewhere.  

Although my time here is rather short and I do cling to knowing I have an end date.

The one thing I often forget, which comes back and hits me like a long lost memory is that I am still here for over a year.

I left absolutely everything behind: my family, Duane, even my cat. Of course when starting a new job you have to face all of those obstacles, but I set myself up to face them and a new direction in life all alone.

I am so used to “moving” somewhere for a temporary stay. Such as moving to school for the semester or to D.C. for the summer, but when the three or four months are over, I move back home. As I am approaching the three and four month marker here, I am finding myself not finding an end.

Strangely, I cannot say that I am homesick. I believe that it was time for me to move away and live out the dream that I’ve always wanted for myself. But, I do find myself wondering how overnight I went from being an hour and a half to 18 hours away without seriously questioning anything.

Some days are better than others. But then I get a sudden reality check and realize that my college days are behind me and there is no more “moving back.” My real life has begun. 

The Waiting Game

Again, some of my readers may know but most of you won’t, I made it to North Dakota. I made it in plenty of time to receive my household goods from the movers but when they were two hours behind schedule the day they told me to be at the apartment, I decided to call. That call is what turned this whole experience into one of the funniest moments I think I’ve ever had to go through alone (well, after my parents and Duane left).

I found out that not only were my things late, but that they were still sitting in Lee’s Summit, MO. The moving company (which I probably should not name) had no clue when they would be getting them to me. To make a very long story short I went two weeks living in a very empty apartment waiting for everything and I believe I heard every excuse in the book.

Excuses: My shipment was too small, it should have been crated, they were out of crates, they do not have a driver, they have a driver but he will not commit, the road ends in North Dakota, I am not in their system, my shipment is not with them, Oh, you’re not married…

The waiting game led to many comical moments if I do say so myself.

Night One: Do you know what it is like for your whole apartment to smell like Ramen noodles and you have no reason why!? I do! And of course I had nothing with me to get this smell out, but I refused to buy anything because I knew the movers had stuff so why waste money. However, I did have candles! Because the movers cannot take them and I also had newspaper, so naturally I tried to lite a candle using newspaper and the stove. Epic fail! The newspaper burst into flames and I wasn’t quick enough to lite the candle. Three attempts later, I went to Wal-Mart and bought air freshener.

Day Three: At work, I am out on a video shoot with an Airmen and the Commander Chief Master Sergeant. This was my second day on the shoot.

Mind you, a vast majority of my clothes are still in Kansas City along with every pair of shoes I own besides my flip flops and tennis shoes, so before my parents left, my Mom and I went on an emergency shopping spree for dress clothes and a pair of shoes to get me through.

With that said, I am on this shoot, going from place to place (in heels) and all of the sudden the Chief turns to me and says “Ma’am, you really need to trade in those shoes for some boots.” I just laughed, but in the back of my head I was thinking, “No kidding!! I had no I idea I would be walking all over this base, in the middle of this field, or down this long gravel road!”

Night Four: It would be my luck that something would break in the apartment even when there is hardly anything in it. In the middle of a shower the drain decided not to work. After spending 30 minutes scooping out the water with a Sonic cup because I had no where else to take a shower, I learn that the drain eventually works but it takes several hours.  Knowing that the drain works, I continued to use the shower until maintenance could get there to fix it. However, there was a 100% chance that the corner of my towel would fall into the full tub while drying off which ultimately led to water getting flung everywhere every time!

 The maintenance guys came, very unprepared, and as I sat there waiting for them to unclog the bathtub one asks, “do you by chance have a wire hanger?” My response-included laughter followed by, “does it look like I have anything here?” Obviously he did not get the hint because he continued to try and sell me used furniture from previous renters.

Nights Five & Six/ Day Seven: The Internet wait here is almost a month out. Besides having and empty apartment, not having Internet has been extra boring. Luckily I called ahead of time so it is coming on Friday however, trying to take a summer school class with no Internet is next to impossible. It would also be my luck that I had a 12-page paper due last week and a final to complete so I had to find Internet somewhere. My first weekend in Minot was spent hanging out at McDonalds. Needless to say, I took a lot of heat for that one at work on Monday!

I believe that McDonalds should start its own webpage similar to Wal-Mart’s: “People of McDonalds.” Beyond learning what not to wear, I also learn tips on how not to raise my child or maybe just not to have children… It seems like McDonalds brings out ADD in every child as soon as they step foot in the door. I can’t remember ever being that excited to eat there. 

Oh, and a stranger did come talk to me… A guy wanted to know why “a beautiful girl is focusing so hard at the computer.” Again after I stopped laughing, I just said that I was writing a paper. I laughed for two reasons: One, who tries to hit on someone at McDonalds? Two: I was focusing so hard because I really needed to change my contacts and I could not see anything, but again… my contacts are with the movers!

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On the plus side, I finally received my things two weeks and three hours later. They are not kidding when they said that they unpack the boxes and put the stuff anywhere there is an open space. I know things haven’t quiet went as expected, but at least there have been some funny moments to lighten the mood a little. 

A Wish Became Reality

As many as my blog followers/readers know, I did an internship with the Department of Defense Education Activity (DoDEA) in Arlington, VA in the summers of 2009 and 2010. What many of you may not know is that going into the internship in 2009, I did not know what I wanted to do after I graduated college and that at that time I was only a broadcasting major. I had yet to decide on a minor and I had no knowledge of what a double major was.

While at my internship I was exposed to a whole side of broadcasting that I had yet to be exposed to in college. While Northwest has a very “hands on” broadcasting department, I felt like the internship exposed me to a more professional world. It also exposed to me the world of public affairs. It wasn’t until 2010 that I was able to do more in this area, but I had the opportunity to work with two Public Affairs Officers who had unbelievable stories when it came to their jobs. At that point I knew without a doubt I wanted to figure out a way that I could somehow work in the public affairs field.

When I returned back to school after the summer was over, I went to my advisor and added journalism as a second major. I had set a goal before entering college that I would graduate in 3.5 years and in order to still accomplish that goal and manage to get into public affairs, I would have to add journalism instead of switching to public relations.

In September, my Mom and I were shopping at the Independence Mall when we passed Build-A-Bear. At that time they had come out with the “Camo Bear.” I made a comment about it and of course my Mom asked if I wanted one. Even though I insisted that I didn’t, into the store we go to build the bear. You would think the most embarrassing part of building this bear would be being a 20 year old building the bear for myself, but instead it was all the silly things they make you do to the bear before you can put it together. For example: pick a heart, rub it in your hands to "warm it up and give it life", jump up and down, twirl around, make a wish…

A little over a year ago I had been graduated from college for a few months and finally landed a job with the National Oceanic Atmospheric Administration. Of course when you say that to people they think it is the most awesome thing in the world. Don’t get me wrong, I was and still am very thankful to have had a fulltime job with benefits during a time when so many recent college graduates are struggling. However, I cannot say that I was overly fond of this job. From the beginning it caused me to “shut down.” As you can tell, I haven’t blogged in over a year. People seemed to invade my life a little too much for the work atmosphere. What seemed to be a job that could just be “left at work” began to follow me. I was unhappy and it reflected and was redirected on relationships outside of work. Within six months I was mentally drained of certain aspects of the position and wanted something new.

In the middle of March I was contacted by the Air Force Public Affairs Civilian Intern Program asking if I would be interested in one of the two positions that they had open. These two locations were Minot AFB in N.D. or Cannon AFB in N.M. I was overly thrilled with the opportunity being presented to me and after much research and consideration I selected to go to Minot AFB based on the overall mission and the location.

Many of you are probably wondering how the Build-A-Bear story ties into this whole post… well, the Air Force allowed me to go to North Dakota for a house-hunting trip (expenses paid). My Mom, Aunt and I planned an extended weekend to make a drive up to see if we could find something worth renting, even though it was a few months out. As I was making my bed before I left, I put all the decorative pillows on my bed (which I rarely do). As I went to place the “Camo Bear” on the bed I realized the wish that I made in 2009 on the heart that I placed inside of the bear had come true.

“I want to be accepted into the public affairs internship program.” 

 Of course at that time I was referring to the Army internship program because it was the program that my co-workers had made me familiar with and I had never found information on the Air Force program, but at that moment I realized that my wish came true and that all the silly nonsense of jumping and twirling in Build-A-Bear was worth it today.

 And on Tuesday, July 10th, I moved to Minot, N.D.

"Mr. Soldier Bear"

In Remembrance..

On Saturday, September 10th, 2011, Duane and I were headed to Glenwood, IA after spending the afternoon on the lake. As he drove, I watched rows and rows of corn go by as we talked about too many subjects to recall.

And then there was that moment. A moment when I couldn’t help but realize the sunset setting down over the cornfields. The moment where I became observant and unusually quiet to the point where Duane thinks something is wrong. As I sat in that moment, I couldn’t help but to notice three marks in the sky. Of course it is no mystery as to what the marks were, just simply exhausts from multiple jets.

It was at that particular moment that I was taken back in time. Ten years ago on September 11, 2001, I remember my parents talking to me about the terrorist attacks after coming home from school. Of course, I was full of questions, mainly because I didn’t understand a lot of what had happened, just that we kept watching it over and over on T.V.. at school. To this day I remember my mom saying that her and my sister noticed two giant circles created in the sky from jet exhausts and moments later turning on the radio to hear one of the Twin Towers had been crashed in to.

By this time on our drive to Glenwood, Duane starts questioning what is wrong and what I was thinking about because I am never quiet for so long. To be honest, the only words that I could formulate were, “Do you think anything will happen tomorrow?” When Duane figured out that I meant 9/11, he gave his opinion and then asked for mine.

I honestly didn’t know how I felt. I prayed through my whole sudden realization that it had already been ten years later that nothing would happen, but I couldn’t help but think of the negative people that our world contains and how no matter how prepared we may be, we are never prepared enough.

Again, we went back to being quiet. I knew that even if the 10-year anniversary to September 11 was quickly approaching, that we as a country cannot always live in fear. If we fear one day, September 11, then we will constantly fear others.

As we ended the drive, we were backing to talking about every subject imaginable and went on as if the conversation didn’t make us stop and think.

Sunday, September 11, we attended church in Glenwood. As we drove to church, I again observed the surroundings outside of the car. I couldn’t help but to think how such a small town could show such great appreciation for our country, those who lost their lives that Tuesday morning and those service men and women who risk it all for our country so that we can be free.

As we drove down the town square I glanced down a street to my right. I noticed a fire truck blocking the street. Further down the street was another fire truck with a giant American Flag raised off the back.

Ten years ago, I was only twelve. Within a year of September 11, 2001 I was having the discussion with my parents about possibly joining the military when I graduated high school. We discussed the different branches, how school will benefit my career, how it is a solid career, the traveling options, the pros and the cons.

I specifically remember being in my dad’s truck with this conversation when my mom asked me why I was considering joining. My response was flashed back into my head on Sunday as I watched the American flag wave from the fire truck.

“I want to join to fight for our country. After September 11, I want to fight back.”

Innocent people were killed on that Tuesday morning. Families were torn apart and hero’s were made. I wanted to give back to those who lost and those who gave.

As we continue in this almost ten year long war on terrorism, I cannot express enough how grateful I am for the sacrifices being made for my freedom. There is not a day that goes by that I do not wish I could be there fighting for our Country. I am left hopeless and looking for an alternative, but is there an alternative?

I know some who survived 9/11, I know soldiers who have gone away to war, and I know soldiers who have paid the ultimate sacrifice.

I have not forgotten what we are fighting for, nor will I forget those who are fighting for me.

September 11 will mark a day in history for all of us. To the service men and women currently fighting, to those who paid the ultimate sacrifice, to the individuals lost on Tuesday morning and to the families standing brave through it all—Thank you.

An Overdue Realization

When I left high school, I left a lot behind. Little did I know that the people who I thought would always be there would slowly fade away. I left with no regrets. I knew deep inside that every choice I made in those four years were the right choices at the time.

My parents feared me going into high school. And even more when I turned sixteen. They just knew I would be a rebel child, constantly breaking curfew and getting into trouble. But, then they learned that they had nothing to fear. I was home every night hours before they told me to be home. I confessed everything to avoid getting into trouble and then I started just telling before I did something. Like, when I was eighteen and thought I would be a rebel and get a piercing—I chickened out and told my mom I was getting it before going.

I went from hanging out with a whole group of people, to only hanging out with one or two. I arranged my schedule to attend college courses in the afternoon, and ate lunch in a classroom while everyone else sat with each other.

I thought I had a great, supportive group of friends. By the time senior year came around they were gone. I tried to stay in touch with a few, but after awhile I realized that it took both people to make it work. And I just felt weird constantly trying to make it work when obviously they didn’t want it.

I left high school without any regrets. I made decisions that I paid the consequences for. I believe whole heartedly that I did what was best for me.

I went to a college where only one person from my high school was going to go. I wanted to escape everything I had been through in those four years. I figured college would come a lot easier when it came to friendships. When my mom went through college she met new friends and even though they don’t get together much anymore, they are still in contact with one another. I just knew, without a doubt that my luck would change and I, too, would have that kind of bond with people and this time they wouldn’t walk out when times got rough.

I joined a sorority. Every one said it was like paying for your friends. I really don’t see how. I had friends within it, yes. But, it wasn’t like I was friends with everyone. Sisters, but not necessarily the best of friends.

I made a lot of choices during college. Some that I am proud of and some that, well, I will live with those decisions for the rest of my life. I used to say that I was living with no regrets. Later, I realized I regretted a lot of things. Although I can’t go back and time and change it, I do know that I am a different person now and that I have learned from those mistakes.

My last year of college, I changed. I no longer wanted to be the person who I was anymore. I kept looking for an escape. And once I found that escape, I learned that more came with changing than just me. Again, I feel like after graduating a lot of people vanished within a few short months. It’s interesting to see who I don’t talk to anymore, now that I’m not seen walking on campus, stopping by dorms or attending weekly meetings.

It’s also interesting to see who will talk to you when you’re out in public or who just tries to pretend like they didn’t see you or they don’t know you. This goes for both people from high school and college. And it’s funny to see people pretend like you’re best friends with them and that they “miss you so much!” But, yet they never bother to call or text or even write on your facebook wall when they haven’t seen you in months.

For almost a year I have looked back on my life and realized how much I have changed. And while it has been a good change, I also spent a year realizing who people are. Again, I know I am not perfect. I know to some people they may hate me, they might think I am rude, or they might hope to never see me again.

I graduated college a few months ago, I walked out with what I thought were quite a few friends. Looking at life now, I barely talk to half of them. It’s a hard concept to grasp when thinking about things. It was like one month you are friends and then the next they are no longer part of your life. I feel like I have done all I can do. In that aspect I have no regrets.

It’s also true when they say friends come and go. I have made a few new friends in the past short three months. I can honestly say that these are real friends. I can talk about anything with them and they are there to get me through it. But, don’t get me wrong there are still those select few from college.

In the end, I guess it doesn’t matter how many people you want to consider a friend, but what matters is who is actually there when you need them. College is a lot like high school. A lot of people still need to grow up and realize the important things in life.

Friends come and go. You just got to hold on for the ride and you’ll soon figure out who is actually there to stay.