Cannon

On November 11, 2013 I was woken up by an explosion.



There are a lot of mines around here, including natural gas and uranium. That was actually my first thought, before I'd even fully come awake. I immediately wondered if I should get out of bed and to the hospital to prepare for a mass casualty event.



But I also knew that between my writer-brain and my time as a soldier, I was immediately going to the worst possible conclusion. So I posted to Facebook, said I was just woken by an explosion. A coworker explained that it was a cannon, in honor of Veteran's Day.



Oh, November 11th, Veteran's Day.



WHAT A GREAT IDEA!! WHO WOULDN'T FIRE A CANNON IN HONOR OF PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN BOMBED?



Then my panic attack started to calm. And I got a few more hours of sleep before work.

So, seriously, if you have anything to do with things like this? Perhaps a little more thought into 6am cannon fire?

It's complicated

Let me preface this with a disclaimer. While the military has many, many flaws, my issues come more from a completely bad fit. I should not have joined the Army.

I didn't discover just how much of a hexagonal peg I was trying to bash into a square hole until I started yoga, actually. I think those moments of peace in the dance studio at Alverno College were the very first moments of healing.

I started exhibiting symptoms of what would later be diagnosed as psoriatic arthritis when I was 22 years old. This was helpfully complicated by sciatica. I had a lot different interpretation of the pain scale back then. I think every day I had with that pinched sciatic nerve was a 10 on the pain scale for me. With the military mentality that "pain is weakness leaving the body," I'm pretty sure everybody thought I was just malingering.

My yoga teacher called that out for the bullshit it was.

When something hurt, she approached it from a different angle. The Half-Moon pose was a particular challenge. Even the yoga blocks caused me pain. So she put me on a chair. And over the course of several weeks, I worked my way down to the full pose. I was much slower than some other students, but with my teacher's patience, I made it.

I didn't feel a lot of patience when I was in the Army. This is likely a combination of the medications I was on at the time and Army culture in general. I developed a very unhealthy relationship with food, which in all honestly was brewing throughout my entire life.

So really, the Army was just the trigger for a whole lot of issues just waiting to crop up.

At this point I would like to extend a heartfelt apology for the people who had to deal with me over the last 12 years. I know I was not an easy person to deal with on any level. I can only say I was doing the best I could, and hope I've grown from those experiences. You've shaped the person I am today, and I thank you.

Tough Reflections

TW: Sexual Harassment




In February 2003, I was deployed to Kuwait. While there was terror, and bombings, sexual harassment from third country nationals, insane heat, port-a-johns, and being far, far from home and security, none of that compared to a much more real and present threat.

During my entire deployment, women were warned not to go anywhere alone. Not to the dining halls, not the the bathroom containers, nor the shower tents.

The thing is, this was nothing new. My military career started this way. During basic training, one of the male recruits assaulted one of the female recruits. One of the drill sergeants sexually harassed another recruit. When I first arrived at Fort Hood, someone attempted to grab my hair and kiss me. When I returned from Kuwait, someone attempted to assault me at a party.

It's a military culture of entitlement. Machismo is promoted, and femininity has a very narrow definition. I don't know how much has changed since I left the service in 2005. But it took me a very long time to come to terms with my service. I didn't actively claim my veteran status outside of using the GI Bill for many years.

I'm a little bit more aware of rape culture and feminist issues now. Looking back at my time in the Army, in Kuwait especially, I'm very troubled. I'm not sure if I can do anything more than talk about it. 

I'm not sure what there would be for me to do if I could. All I know is that it needs to stop. Maybe we could even have as a goal that women in the military would feel safer than the women in the areas we're trying to help.

With MANY thanks to Edana. She's probably the most amazing woman I know.