Speaking Out and Gaining Hope—A Guardsman Spouse’s Story

Filed under 2011 Symposium, Behavioral Health, Symposium by on July 21, 2011 at 1:31 pm {no comments}

By Alan Morales, WTC Stratcom

AW2 spouse Danielle Barber and her husband AW2 Veteran Rob Barber at the 2011 AW2 Symposium.

Danielle Barber was sitting across the table from me at lunch when I first met her at the 2011 AW2 Symposium. She had a big smile on her face and an infectious laugh that spread around the table.

Little did I know that behind that upstate New York smile was a woman who fights daily for something she believes in—her marriage. Danielle is the spouse of an Army Guardsman and lives a life that is different than that of her fellow wounded warrior active duty wives. She didn’t have the benefit of living on post. She was not welcomed by a Family Readiness Group at her doorstep. All she had was the love for her husband to keep driving her forward. And to this day—it still does.

I learned from Danielle that her husband, Rob, sustained a traumatic brain injury (TBI) and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) in 2006. As a gunner, Rob’s job kept him in the midst of battle, and his daily routine continuously exposed him to the rawness of war. Danielle doesn’t know exactly what happened to her husband downrange, but as she explained to me, “I don’t need to know. I need to let him deal with the reality of his own experience.” However, she was aware of one thing. War changed him into a different man.

Danielle described her relationship with Rob pre-deployment as a romantic one. She looked away from me as she attempted to envision their relationship years ago. “He used to call me cupcake and hold my hand when we walked down the street,” she explained, as she wiped a tear away from her cheek. Rob’s experiences had a lasting effect on him, one he tried to change, but was out of his control.

Danielle explained, “I could handle the lead up to the war, I could handle the war itself, but it was the life immediately after the war that I couldn’t handle.”

Through the years, the Barbers have gone to doctors, therapy sessions, and rehabilitation. All have helped to some degree, but it seems that communication was the catalyst for change. “He has a voice, and I can see that he’s happy. It’s changed him,” said Danielle about Rob’s Symposium experience.

I realized that Rob was looking for an opportunity to share his perspective, experiences, and opinions. The AW2 Symposium enabled him to do just that, not only for himself, but also for those that will follow after him. Although I didn’t hear what he said in the focus groups that day, one thing was sure. He was heard by his fellow wounded warriors.

That evening was date night at the AW2 Symposium, a time for delegate couples to spend time together and reconnect. “I’m nervous. Rob’s been talking so much more since we got here,” Danielle laughed. “We actually had a conversation last night! Who knows what will happen tonight.” I could sense the anxiety in her voice, but also a glimmer of excitement in her demeanor. She leaned in, gripped her hands together, and didn’t say a single word. She just smiled.

The next morning at breakfast, I caught Danielle and Rob before they headed to their focus group session. “So how was the date last night?” I pried. Danielle’s face beamed, and she described everything from the lobster dinner they shared to the walk they had after dinner.

More importantly, she leaned in, and this time told me the three words that explained it all, “We held hands.”

Danielle’s story demonstrated to me that love motivates her and her husband to keep working towards improving their lives as they live with Rob’s injuries. This week, the Barbers are around others like them who face similar situations. This opportunity gives them the ability to see what progress looks like and what their future could possibly look like in the years to come.

Although Danielle is well aware of the challenges that will come down the road, she walked out of breakfast that morning with something much greater than memories of her lobster dinner from the night before. She left with hope.

Boundaries

Filed under Behavioral Health, Diana Hume, Soldier and Family Story by on June 24, 2011 at 2:53 pm {one comment}

By Diana Hume, AW2 Reserve Spouse

Diana Hume analyzes boundaries in her life to ensure they are adjusted to help her live a better life.

Editor’s Note: Diana Hume is a feature blogger for AW2 and shares her experiences as the wife of a severely wounded reservist. The expressed comments and views of guest bloggers do not reflect the views of WTC or the United States Army.

Boundaries are an interesting topic, especially for wounded warrior Families. As we are well aware, many times war begins because of boundary disputes. Once on the battlefield, warriors do not see boundaries, they do what is necessary in order to survive and protect. However, once war is over and the dust settles, the wounds of war dramatically begin to change our once familiar boundaries.

The pain of war’s wounds so easily takes away the familiar which is not a huge news flash for those who live with them every day. In a blink of an eye, our boundaries begin to morph into something foreign right under our noses. Our world becomes smaller and everyday normal things change and often disappear. As each day begins in this new place, all that is in our thoughts is to get through it, just make it to the next day. The unknown about what life will be the next day is many times fueled by fear and over time, reality sets in and confirms that our new boundaries stopped the healing.

As I write this, I am learning what I need to do with my new foreign boundaries. First, I need to dig inside and hope I uncover anything that reminds me of the freedom without boundaries. What it was like before the pain became part of daily life—life before the wounds. I am realizing that mine were broad, open, and a guide to live, as opposed to what they were after the wounds—concrete road blocks.

I am learning the importance of understanding how I decide to redefine and re-open my boundaries. I am beginning to accept that this is necessary and is what I need to help me grow and heal. My priorities are to do all that is in my power to help my Family thrive. There are no excuses to stop living because the new boundaries slowly become comfortable or—to state bluntly—become a protective shell. Unfortunately, when I look in the mirror my shell is very visible, but I am beginning to believe that it will be broken with hope and trust.

We seem to think that boundaries define us. I disagree. I am learning that they can guide us, strengthen us and give us hope. Our boundaries can be molded like clay as we grow and become more of an expression of ourselves and not a blunt definition. Remember, it is o.k. to continuously re-evaluate or even erase some of your defined personal boundaries. I found that when you do, you are suddenly out of your comfort zone and you push yourself to improve and heal. It is an awakening when you accept that boundaries from war do not always protect, but hinder us from living.

It all goes back to choice. As a wounded warrior spouse it took me a lot of time to realize that I need to evaluate my boundaries every single day. Taking time for just me is good because it allows me to breathe. So, I encourage spouses and caregivers to take the time to write down what your boundaries are as you see them today. Think about what you just put on paper and how they were created. Are they closed, hard, or comfortable? Do you think they will protect you from hurting again? Were they created for you or by you? Do they allow you to live or just survive? Are any of them inclusive of a something you admire in yourself? If any of them keep you afraid to live and feel again, it is time to find the strength to soften them so you can breathe, feel, and take care of yourself. Remember, you are worth it!

 

You Can’t Get Over It But You Can Get On With It

Filed under Diana Hume by on March 2, 2011 at 11:00 am {2 comments}

By Diana Hume, AW2 Reservist Spouse

Diana Hume believes that moving on is one of essential steps wounded warriors and their Families need to take in order to progress post-injury.

I hope that what I have to say doesn’t offend anyone, but my experience has been pointing to this topic for quite some time. War injuries, visible or invisible, are something that will forever be carried by our wounded warriors and their Families. It isn’t something that any of us can just get over and we all know the reasons why.

The past few weeks I had very interesting conversations with people who were touched by war. All of these discussions come from a very different perspective; a beautiful woman and friend who grew up in a war torn country, a friend with relatives who served and understand the effects of PTSD, and a Vietnam Veteran who rediscovered life through faith. Our conversations were intriguing and enlightening, and each shared a common thread. Undoubtedly war leaves scars, but it also poses a choice about how you decide to live the rest of your life. I will repeat the word, live. Do you decide to keep harboring the hurt or do you choose to work hard to make the best of your gift–the gift of life? There is purpose behind the reasons why you are here and we will never know what that purpose is unless we don’t give up.

So much of what is needed to move on is right in front of us. We seem to look too hard for the answers. I hear repeatedly from people that faith and friends are the ingredients to the early stages of getting out of the fox hole. Exposing our pain to others is the greatest sign of strength. Talk, touch, and feel are the steppingstones to healing. Talk about what happened. I personally believe that talking about it will not hurt any more than when you first got the call about your loved one. Sharing will touch those you love and help tear down the walls of pain, ultimately helping you feel better. After this step, I always tell myself, “feel, learn, and live.”

I know it’s not easy to move on. Getting up off the couch, my personal fox hole, is painful because sometimes reality just plain stinks. But, I truly believe that there is help available through the kindness of what you and your loved ones fought for–freedom. People in this great country choose to use their gift of freedom to give back to those who gave so much to preserve it.

I see some Families struggle because some have too much pride to ask for the help they need. Not asking for help only prolongs the hurt. Listen to those that care and love you. They can offer reflection that you do need help. The stigma associated with war injuries is dissipating because we are starting to be open with our experiences. Awareness is helping many understand, but we have to be the ones to ask for the help. Helping ourselves also helps the wounded warriors and Families that will follow in our footsteps. Fight. That is what we have been taught to do; it’s our way of life.

Burdens of war are a way of life. However, you can change how they affect your life. Each day the sun comes up and a choice is made. Do you get up and choose to fall back into the hole? Or, do you choose to get up and get on with it making the day better than the last? I often look towards inspiration from other sources. For example from Deepak Chopra, “Everything that is happening at this moment is a result of the choices you’ve made in the past.”

You choose to be a Soldier and carry its honor and the gift of freedom. You choose to serve and be in harm’s way. You choose to heal or you choose to be suspended. You choose to fall victim or you choose to get on with it. Life is a choice. Faith, time, and positive choices can heal.

Editor’s Note: Diana Hume is a feature blogger for AW2 and shares her experiences as the wife of a severely wounded reservist. Please take a moment to read Diana Hume’s previous blog entries on the AW2 Blog. The expressed comments and views of guest bloggers do not reflect the views of WTC or the United States Army.

The Call

Filed under Behavioral Health, Diana Hume, Soldier and Family Story, Soldier Story by on September 14, 2010 at 9:40 am {no comments}

By Diana Hume, AW2 Reserve Spouse

The call informing Diana Hume of her Soldier’s injury tested her strength and perseverance

Editor’s Note: Diana Hume is a feature blogger for AW2. She’ll be sharing her experiences as the wife of a severely wounded reservist. She hopes her blog will help other reservist spouses, as well as inspire and educate others about the unique challenges they face

The call. We all know what that means to us and the emotions the simple thought of it still carries. The call is delivered in many different ways, but the impact it has on us is similar. Mine was not the typical process, but it was still the call.

With that said, I am going to begin sharing more personal pieces of my journey as a reservist’s spouse. Some of these topics will be painful to share, but they are from my heart. More than anything I want to touch someone, another reserve spouse, in such a way that they understand they are unique, brave, and someone who can defy all odds. So, here is some more of my story.

My Soldier had left his Texas home for war. Up to this point, this was one of the most difficult periods we had to experience in our marriage. My new time alone soon became an understated challenge, but simultaneously an inner strength began to reveal itself. The new routine at home was beginning to find its place and adjustment began. Part of this routine was preparing the packages to send to our Soldier and anticipating the rare phone calls when we would hear his voice or e-mails to read and share our thoughts.  All of these events were ways we coped as a family while helping him feel connected and close to home.

After a few months, this new routine started to feel somewhat normal. My new inner strength told me I can do this, it will be ok. Nights were long and I found it hard to sleep with re-occurring thoughts about where he was and whether he was safe. Some nights those thoughts came with tears and emptiness. An ache sprinkled with fear. Eventually sleep arrived but the peace it brought was always too short.

As more time passed I sensed unfamiliar changes in my Soldier.  His calls home became infrequent and when they did occur, the discussions were strange and extremely unsettling. Instead of conversations about the kids, activities, and us, it changed to conversations about whether his life insurance was in order to take care of the kids and me.  Then emails from him began to slow down perpetuating the re-occurring theme of pushing home away–detaching. My new strength was being tested and my instinct told me something had happened. Something was wrong. 

Eventually, the feared call had made its way home. For me, it came in the form of a letter from my Soldier.  He told me that he was checking out of the life we had built together. He thought he was not coming home. This was the first of many of my personal 9–1–1’s. From his words in his letters to my internal fear, all of it became overpowering. My gut ached and my thoughts scrambled. Questions overwhelmed me. How can I help him? Why can’t anyone in Iraq see the pain I hear in his voice? At this point, I did not have a book or document that told me what to do, who to call, or what to expect. I had no protocol. So, I took my new, and still building, strength and found a way to be resourceful. I had no other option but to help my Soldier, my love, any way I could. 

I understood that there is a business side to military and to war, but there had to be a humanitarian side to supporting the Family as well. I was alone and lost, but realized that I had learned a boat load along the way. The Army is big and I, as a reservist’s spouse, was feeling helpless and ignorant. I wasn’t part of a Family Readiness Group and didn’t have names of anyone in the unit. I didn’t have a clue about what the rear detachment was or that it even existed.  All I had to rely on was my own intuition.

During this time I found myself digging deep trying to find a raft to climb onto. I was sinking and sinking fast.  The kids were trying to take care of me as I worked hard to take care of the Soldier I thought I had lost 6,000 miles away. With time, I remembered someone talking about the acronym FRG (Family Readiness Group). This was the fuel that kept me digging for help. To this day, I truly don’t know how I found our FRG volunteer’s number. I chalk it up to persistence and resourcefulness, attributes I believe are part of each reservist’s spouse.

With what felt like an eternity, the FRG volunteer shared with me the bits and pieces about where my Soldier was and informed me that he was indeed actually getting help. He was being sent to Germany for a medical evaluation. The doctors concluded several things were going on and that they had to send him to Walter Reed. Up to this point, I had yet to receive a phone call from anyone informing me of his status and that he was being med-evac’ed to the States. Even he wasn’t in contact with me. I felt the detachment again and again.

Finally, a true call was made. To my surprise, it was from my Soldier telling me he had already been at Walter Reed for a few days.  His words were unfamiliar and his voice was changed and distant. I was confused and broken. He was able-bodied, but he was wounded.  No missing arms or legs, no injuries from direct IEDs. It was assumed that he could take care of himself, when in reality he couldn’t. And to top it all, the Army had forgotten his Family–no one called.

I know that my story is familiar. When we, the spouse, receive the call that our Soldier is injured, we are tested again. Our emotions run high, but our new strength takes charge and carries us when we least suspect. We look back and wonder how did I get through the call?  I believe that as a reservist’s spouse, we somehow find our own way to meet the objectives of our mission by being steadfast and strong.  All calls are unique, personal, and undoubtedly full of emotion and unimaginable challenges. One thing in common is that they change us forever and in ways we can’t always explain.

Even if we do not have the answers, we have to find them. We cannot sit and wait, even if it is just a gut feeling we are operating from. Our voice is our friend, sometimes the only one we may have at certain points along the way. That is why we have to learn to use our voice. Dig deep and let’s find answers to build the network we need in order to support each other. 

I know that work is underway on improving how reserve Families receive information during their Soldiers’ deployments.  It is a start, but we must share our experiences so that more can be done. We have to let those working to help us know what’s working and what’s not. I am sure I am not alone when I say this, but I don’t want someone to go through the same experience I did.  That’s why I want our words to be heard. We are important and our stories and experiences will make a difference.

Nothing Is What I Thought It Would Be: A Reservist Wife’s Perspective

Filed under Diana Hume by on August 9, 2010 at 10:00 am {5 comments}

Diana Hume, pictured here with her dog Otto, volunteered to begin a series of posts on the AW2 Blog to share her lessons learned with other spouses.

By Diana Hume, Reservist Spouse Blogger

Editor’s Note: Diana Hume is a new feature blogger for AW2. She’ll be sharing her experiences as the wife of a severely wounded reservist. She hopes her blog will help other reservist spouses, as well as inspire and educate others about the unique challenges they face.  

When was it again that I signed the contract? This has been a recurring question that I have come to accept and stopped asking myself because I signed the contract 18 years ago when I married an amazing man, the love of my life. Our story, however, began 24 years ago. We met January 1987 while attending college north of Dallas. He was handsome, still is, challenging, outgoing, inspirational, and mysterious. We had so much fun together and within time I learned that part of the mystery was that he was a Staff Sergeant in the Marine Corps Reserves.

In the early stages of our relationship, I learned that he had already been serving for six years. For him it was a way of life, but for me the idea of a “reservist” was as foreign to me as another language. I am not from a military family and Dallas is not a military city. I quickly understood that he drilled once a month by making the trek from Dallas to Oklahoma City per his commitment to the Corps and his country. This all changed when Desert Storm hit.

At this point we weren’t even truly dating yet, we were great friends. With that said, he called one night to share the news that he received orders to go to Kuwait in support of Dessert Storm. We all remember how that war went. First the air strikes, then the Americans threw a few rounds of ammo and just as quickly as they arrived, they were home. It was a blip on the radar compared to what we are experiencing today particularly since practically everyone came home.

Before I knew it, he was back home as quickly has he had left. By now, our relationship had grown and we decided to officially become a couple. Our official courtship was short because we already knew so much about each other. So, a little over five years after we met I signed the contract, our Marriage License in the great state of Texas.

At this point in our marriage we were both full of dreams and plans for our future, much like the future of other civilian couples since in fact, we were a civilian couple. That is the community we lived in and identified with. Our lives were growing and were centered around starting careers and building a family together. We both were working hard to make smart life choices alongside our civilian friends.  Our life, so I thought, was our own. We could work and live where we wanted. After all, I was not a military wife, never had a military I.D., and had yet to set foot on a base.

With many years of hard work, both of our careers grew and so did our family. I was at a point where I had an upper level management role within a company I loved working for while my Soldier pursued his path to become an electrical engineer for a great company in North Texas. At the same time, he was still doing his monthly drill obligations, annual training and making the drive to the drill center. In fact, his monthly drills had also become my monthly “me” time!  We had it in our routine like clockwork.

Years of living the normal American life became my life, our life. Again, I still did not see myself as a military spouse. I had yet to meet someone who self identified as one. Don’t get me wrong, by this time I had met other reserve spouses, but they were like me. They had careers, kids, and many had not been on a base. We were like peas in a pod.  We would talk about our kids and careers and life none of which related to the military up to that point. We would meet annually at the formal birthday balls which were usually held in a hotel ballroom close to the drill center. Each time it was a night away from home and was like a mini-vacation where we could interact with other Reservist families.

Time passed and life was still moving along. After about six years into our marriage in 2000, he made a decision to transfer to the Army Reserves because of the available Warrant Officer opportunities. Even at this point, there were little changes affecting me minus the fact that his drill center would change to a more reasonable 3 ½ hour drive from home. We didn’t have to move and I didn’t have to leave my great career. Life was normal and as far as I was concerned, I wasn’t a military spouse, or so I thought.

The next year our world and specifically our nation were rocked. September 11, 2001. Need I say more? What I didn’t know was how much my own world was about to change. Yet, life kept moving along.

December 2002, we moved into a new beautiful home that we had built, located in a great neighborhood with great schools. Both of us were excited about this new stepping stone in our life. We both had careers and were involved in the community. Kids sports were entering our world and our oldest started kindergarten the next year and our youngest was now 18 months old. After a month of adjusting to our new surroundings and routine, orders came. He was being mobilized to Ft. Hood GSU for the next two years. The news wasn’t great, but it was something we could work through. The plan was that he would get home as often as he could.

I continued to work and take care of the kids, but it didn’t take me long to realize that I was now a single parent. For me, holding it all together was quickly different than my neighbors whose husbands traveled frequently. I never had a break. Work demands changed and I realized my role as a spouse was changing. My love, life partner, support was gone. I lived and planned without him.

I did all I could to keep life normal, but it was no longer normal. I wasn’t like my civilian friends anymore. I didn’t have a group I identified with. With the change to the Army Reserve, I had never met any of the other spouses or even knew their names because we were all scattered across Texas. Now, we all know Texas is its own country – it is big. So, my new world became an abstract blob with a lot of acronyms.

Before 2003 was over, and after struggling to hold it all together, I made the choice to resign from my career so I could be a full time parent. I realized I never saw our children, and wasn’t fully sure I actually knew them because of the demands of my job. This was the right choice for our family, but it was also a new challenge and brought some obstacles I never thought I would have to deal with.

January 2005 came and we had survived. He was home. Back to his career, back to normal, the new normal. Up to this point I had still not met another self identified reserve spouse, ever. Remember, we were scattered. However, I did finally have a military ID and had been on a base.

Our new normal lasted for about a year. I learned he had volunteered to serve in Iraq without consulting me.  Needless to say, I was not thrilled with that piece of information, but I understood serving was part of who he is. He was to run the ammunition supply point (ASP) at Q-West for all of northwest Iraq.  This was a day I have embedded in my memory. I was truly scared and I knew that our new normal was going away. This was probably the day I first began to understand what it truly meant to be a reserve spouse. It was, and still is a tough day for me to swallow.

What many civilians don’t understand is that for reserves, they begin getting battle ready while still at home (battle ready was a term I had to learn – again never received a manual!) For us, he was being cross leveled from Ft. Hood, TX to a unit out of Billings, MT, which was deployed from Ft. McCoy, WI. Remember, we live in North Dallas. Now I really knew no one in the unit, I was totally alone.

From January 2006 until June, he was coming and going to training while working on getting the unit ready to go. With one foot in the Army and one foot still in his civilian career, there was no time for me. It was at this point that I began my transition from my previous normal to an even more challenging one. A normal where I had to learn what a reserve spouse is supposed to do–keep it all together. Nevertheless, June came fast. The day the kids and I took him to the airport for his departure to Ft. McCoy, WI was traumatic. My heart hurt, tears fell down my cheeks, and I tried so hard to remain together and strong.  

Since then, so much more than I ever thought has happened. Our new normal is so far from normal. Our children are now 12 and 9 compared to when they were 4 and 18 months when we received our first set of orders. It’s been a ride. All the missed birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, births and deaths. The stress on our family, our relationship, and careers… these issues were only part of the struggle we dealt with. And when he did come home early from Iraq, it wasn’t to me or the family –it was to Walter Reed where he stayed for two years after being med-evaced out of Iraq. It was just last year when he was finally home in Texas. The rebuilding has finally begun and we are being introduced to our new normal

The road for someone married to a reservist is nothing I thought it would be. Although I may have been blind to the true significance of what our Reserve and National Guard Soldiers truly do to protect our freedom, I still have learned a ton and want to share. Looking back, I was a young spouse to an incredible man, but I truly had no concept of what I signed up for. It’s never explained or truly discussed with us. It’s not like we receive our orders for training. It has been a ride and I wouldn’t change one thing about it because I have learned so much. Nevertheless, life is still happening and I can still look back and realize that time combined with much personal growth has shown me the true meaning of who I am. I am a proud spouse of an Army Reserve soldier. And I say that with all my heart.

I have recently realized that part of my new normal is to share my knowledge and experience. My road of learning what a reserve and wounded warrior spouse is has inspired me to help make the road a little easier for other wounded warrior spouses. This entry is just an eagle’s point of view and an introduction to my story. I invite you to return and share more detail on specific topics. Know you are not alone, we are not alone. I am here to listen, answer questions and help. This is part of my new normal.

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