The Stepford Wife.

Finally, I got this one up!!!
Sep 7, 2008 1:58 pm
On Friday, I attempted to post the next blog in this series.... Each time, SOMETHING happened to prevent that. A combination of losing power, getting busy, and my stupid laptop and it's desire to taunt me. No matter. I am forced to begin again. Which is frustrating, because I never save as I write, it is typically a stream of consciousness and my memory working to spin the tale, that has been my life so far. I write, as if I am speaking to you. I do not write in words that I wouldn't say if you were sitting right next to me, on the phone, or in an e-mail. I write as honest as my memory can be, ya know given that perspective and perception occasionally cloud the whole truth. So, allow me to continue with the truth of my life, told with bias by me.


Okay, so where did I leave off.... Ah, that's right, the incident with my puppy. I went through my life everyday very cautiously. He didn't REALLY want me to work. I was still in the romantic fog that I was in some 1950's war movie. Wife stays home to raise the children and take care of her husband, and if there aren't any children yet, she prepares the home for her husband each day in an effort to make his life easier, sacrificing her needs, want, and desires. I wouldn't have called myself naive, but I had romantic ideals about life, marriage, and the role that I should take as a woman in it.I still believe that women are the fairer sex, and that men should be masculine, and have an innate need to care for the women in his life, and in exchange women, create beauty, provide solace, and offer sensitivity to the man. It is mutual. A give and take. That said, I believed it was MY job, to ensure that a traditional household was maintained. I created a very strict cleaning, cooking, and entertainment schedule. I ran that place like a war ship! I kept up with that regime, almost daily, and it helped me to ignore that my world was falling down around me. He hated for me to volunteer for any activities outside the house, so at first, making friends was difficult. But as soon as I knew my way around a little, I would lay in wait, anytime a new family moved on to my block. As soon as they pulled in to the driveway, to check the place out, I would guess about how many family members there were, and anticipate what their needs might be while they wait for the moving truck to come a few weeks later. I'd quickly get to work, baking something. A cake, pie, cookies, whatever I had ingredients for, and the mind to create. As soon as it was prepared, I would copy down a list of important numbers, for different places on base, and set to work. I usually tried to approach the newcomers while they were outside. I didn't want to offend, or startle them. I was usually received with a gracious 'Thank You' and then not called upon until after they settled in, a few weeks later. I became my very own "Welcoming Committee", and I was happy to know that I might be helping someone out, OR making a new friend. I did this because I wanted to, but also because I didn't want anyone to feel the way I felt in the first few months as a new military spouse. Did I happen to mention The Meteor, was an asshole? Oh, I did.... hmmm well ...This next snippet... I'll explain what my experience was, what I was told, and then I will explain what is supposed to be.... for the benefit of the group. We were married for three months, the Meteor and I, when he came home one day and told me, "I am getting deployed tomorrow, I don't know to where, or when I'll be back." I responded by asking if he will be able to contact me, or if there was some way to reach him. He told me, that I would not be able to contact him, except in an extreme emergency through the Red Cross. Understand this: I never in my life had any experience with the military. AT ALL. I didn't know an O-3 from an E-5 ... the only thing I knew was that the uniforms were hot! He had never introduced me to anyone, except the group of friends he hung out with, and I didn't want to run to them with every little thing. I may as well have been in a foreign country, where I don't speak the native language. Because, I barely could figure out how to get out of my neighborhood and off the base, and some people weren't very friendly. So, he left. As far as I knew, he was going SOMEWHERE, and would be gone for an undetermined period of time. Moreover, I didn't know when I would hear from him to know if he was okay, if he was hurting, if he was safe, if he was in harm's way. I barely understood what he did, I just knew it was a Fight Line job, and he dealt with fuel, or some other chemical. Because of issues in my youth, I had a bit of generalized anxiety. During this time, it went from being a little nervy, to being full blown terrified to leave the house. The 'what-ifs' were ruling my thoughts and actions. What if, I left the house, and couldn't find my way home? What if, I get sick, where do I go? What if there is an accident inside the house... and there is something wrong, how do I tell him I need him? I panicked. My head was swimming in this pool of thought, tainted by the 'what-ifs'.I called the only number I knew. The shop. Where he worked. There had to be someone there... right? He'd been gone a week, and I hadn't heard from him ... so I decided I needed information. I called and spoke with a very nice Sargent named Donnie, who explained that he lived in the house directly behind mine, and that in fact when the curtain was open... he could see clearly into my living room. BUG OUT!! However, he told me that my husband was fine. Training in Canada, and would be home in about a week. I sighed heavily, in relief. Finally some information. Donnie, notified the Chain of Command about my situation. They contacted the Meteor in Canada and told him to call his wife. They reamed him about not telling me anything, and he got into a little trouble over it.... just a tongue lashing, but he took it harder then that. The meteor called me a few hours later, yelling and screaming that I was being melodramatic, and that he would be home when he got there. What should have happened is; as soon as he brought me to the base as his wife, he should have showed me around, he should have introduced me to key persons, people I should know in case I need to find him when he goes away. He should have introduced me to some of the wives. HE should have been proud to show me around, show me off. He should have told me the difference between a deployment, and a temporary duty assignment (TDY), he should have told me how long he would be gone (given that he knew), and where he was going. He did none of that. HE failed me. He left me, to fend for myself, figure it out on my own, and ultimately, I learned more because of it, I learned all the things he was trying to keep me from in the first place. I began making friends, building relationships with people outside the house. I was well liked by my neighbors, I was fun to be with, and I learned that no matter what happened inside that house, I could be myself, my whole self, when outside that house. HE couldn't hurt me. He wouldn't hurt me out side the house.