"The past three days we have done team building courses. I repelled down Eagle Tower in just three jumps! The gas chamber sucks really bad. It felt like my skin was on fire and I was breathing in nothing but firework smoke..... p.s. you were right about me being in a lot better shape than most of the guys" ~Letter from Brandon at Bootcamp, July 16th
I supported Brandon's decision to join the Army. I wasn't happy he choose Infantry, as as Mom I would've preferred something safer, like trumpet player. And, like a Mom, I worried how hard Boot-camp would be for him, if it would make him or break him. Brandon wanted to take the path of most resistance, he needed to prove to himself he could do this and do it well.
Now I was the one in Boot-camp, a different kind of Boot-camp, but the questions were the same - Would it break me or make me? This one however, no one would volunteer for. Each of us has unknowingly enlisted into this program, no one is immune.You too are signed up for Grief Boot-camp. The problem is you won't ever know when we are going to get called up. There is no warning, no way to train for it, no way to prepare and no matter what you do or who you are Grief Boot-camp will kick your ass.
The initial phase of my Boot-camp relied heavily on the use of sleep deprivation. Brandon said the worst part of Boot-camp was getting up at 0400 hours. HA- I can beat that! I was up and wandering the streets at 0300. The first night I walked over to the grocery store. It's only about a quarter of a mile, no 12 mile ruck march, but it's seemed like a 'normal' thing to do, after all it was open. I had never seen the store at that time of night and the brightness of it's expansive interior seemed out of place in contrast to the dark night and glowing empty parking lot. One checker, a couple stock boys and the floor cleaning crew gave me quick glances of acknowledgment that told me I wasn't the only one to come wandering into the store at this time of night. I walked with purpose up and down the aisles as if there really was something so important it couldn't wait until the sun was up. Remembering when I was 16 and my Dad died I knew there would be plenty of people around in the coming days, so I settled on coffee (and tea for my friend Beth who I knew would be around) and went through the self check out. How strange it was that my entire world had been decimated, my heart fragmented into little tiny indecipherable shards, yet on the outside I didn't look any different (sans the growing bags under my eyes). No one in the store pointed and stared, no one gasp when they saw me. It was an invisible Boot-camp where Grief was my Drill Sargent and I was the only Recruit.
I walked back from the grocery store, coffee in hand ready for the people who would need to make the coffee to appear busy and to have something to focus on and for those who needed to drink the coffee for the same reasons.
In the initial phase of my Boot-camp running came easily. Perhaps because it was what I knew to do and I was on auto-pilot in those first days. I could run through anything and since I was going to master this Grief Boot-camp I could just run through this too. Back at the house I had now ground away over an hour of my new life sentence, it was 0400 and chilly enough for me to pull out a long sleeve wicking shirt and tights. I laced up my running shoes and stepped out the door. Standing at the edge of the curb I was unable to make a decision of which way to go, but I was sure it would be a long time before I would return to the fateful 'let my guard down' course. Apparently that was a bunch of crap. So much for flying downhill and letting go of my silly anxiety and fear, look where that got me. So, I turned right and headed into the flat terrain of the neighborhood hoping that running would excise my demons and knowing I had a full day ahead of me. I had to meet the Army Representatives at my ex-husband's house that afternoon.
Looking back on those initial days it's amazing what I remember. Actually how little I remember (an ironic similarity between birthing and burying my first born). As I write this I am searching the archives, trying to bring something up to fill in the gaps. Nothing. Big blotches of black interspersed with an occasional memory... running in the dark rain, picking out a box for Brandon's ashes, my mother-in-law's chicken and noodles (comfort food), buying shoes (for the funeral). With the exception of the cremation box it could be memories from any other week, but it happened while I was being initiated into Grief Boot-camp. Like the military's version of boot-camp, Grief Boot-camp breaks you down to the very raw core of who you are. It renders you weak, confused and wondering how long you can exist in such a violently shattered state. These initial days are just a warm up for the real stuff, the hard stuff, the questions (My personal favorite: "How many kids do you have?") and 365 days of anticipating each "first". I gave up exercise after the initial phase was over.
The initial phase of my Boot-camp relied heavily on the use of sleep deprivation. Brandon said the worst part of Boot-camp was getting up at 0400 hours. HA- I can beat that! I was up and wandering the streets at 0300. The first night I walked over to the grocery store. It's only about a quarter of a mile, no 12 mile ruck march, but it's seemed like a 'normal' thing to do, after all it was open. I had never seen the store at that time of night and the brightness of it's expansive interior seemed out of place in contrast to the dark night and glowing empty parking lot. One checker, a couple stock boys and the floor cleaning crew gave me quick glances of acknowledgment that told me I wasn't the only one to come wandering into the store at this time of night. I walked with purpose up and down the aisles as if there really was something so important it couldn't wait until the sun was up. Remembering when I was 16 and my Dad died I knew there would be plenty of people around in the coming days, so I settled on coffee (and tea for my friend Beth who I knew would be around) and went through the self check out. How strange it was that my entire world had been decimated, my heart fragmented into little tiny indecipherable shards, yet on the outside I didn't look any different (sans the growing bags under my eyes). No one in the store pointed and stared, no one gasp when they saw me. It was an invisible Boot-camp where Grief was my Drill Sargent and I was the only Recruit.
I walked back from the grocery store, coffee in hand ready for the people who would need to make the coffee to appear busy and to have something to focus on and for those who needed to drink the coffee for the same reasons.
In the initial phase of my Boot-camp running came easily. Perhaps because it was what I knew to do and I was on auto-pilot in those first days. I could run through anything and since I was going to master this Grief Boot-camp I could just run through this too. Back at the house I had now ground away over an hour of my new life sentence, it was 0400 and chilly enough for me to pull out a long sleeve wicking shirt and tights. I laced up my running shoes and stepped out the door. Standing at the edge of the curb I was unable to make a decision of which way to go, but I was sure it would be a long time before I would return to the fateful 'let my guard down' course. Apparently that was a bunch of crap. So much for flying downhill and letting go of my silly anxiety and fear, look where that got me. So, I turned right and headed into the flat terrain of the neighborhood hoping that running would excise my demons and knowing I had a full day ahead of me. I had to meet the Army Representatives at my ex-husband's house that afternoon.
Looking back on those initial days it's amazing what I remember. Actually how little I remember (an ironic similarity between birthing and burying my first born). As I write this I am searching the archives, trying to bring something up to fill in the gaps. Nothing. Big blotches of black interspersed with an occasional memory... running in the dark rain, picking out a box for Brandon's ashes, my mother-in-law's chicken and noodles (comfort food), buying shoes (for the funeral). With the exception of the cremation box it could be memories from any other week, but it happened while I was being initiated into Grief Boot-camp. Like the military's version of boot-camp, Grief Boot-camp breaks you down to the very raw core of who you are. It renders you weak, confused and wondering how long you can exist in such a violently shattered state. These initial days are just a warm up for the real stuff, the hard stuff, the questions (My personal favorite: "How many kids do you have?") and 365 days of anticipating each "first". I gave up exercise after the initial phase was over.
Your words go straight to the heart <3
ReplyDeletePaula,
ReplyDeleteI've waited to get caught up on your blog simply because it is so hard to read, remember and know that it is YOU I am reading about...so this sunny glorious Sunday morning I am reading into your life...all those private moments, hours, days and nights where you were lost and lost to all of us. You continue to make me weep and smile in any given day..your honesty, humor, sadness, anger and pain are so palpable...thank you for keeping this blog. It allows me to go back and fill in the blanks too.
Love you, BT
The "invisible" part is so true! I have come to appreciate the opening lines to Eric Clapton's "Lonely Stranger" - "I must be invisible; no one notices me..."
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing your journey, through our mutual friend, Dottie, and now through this blog, now that she helped me discover it. May it bless you as much to write it as it blesses those of us who read it.