Every area of my life has changed, and all for the better. If nothing else, I was just forced to step back for a moment, re-evaluate my life, and thank God that I am here, healthy, happy, motivated, and blessed.

I don't even know what my last blog was about...whatever it was is nearly irrelevant now. I just watched a dash-cam video of a civilian aircraft crashing just outside Bagram Air Field in Afghanistan, and after I threw up my dinner, I cried.

Hard.

On January 24, 2012, I was in a plane crash on the runway of Kandahar. I knew that something wasn't right when we left Dubai...but there obviously wasn't much I could do. After a relatively uneventful couple of hours, we were approaching Kandahar Air Field. The pilot was shifting the fixed-wing plane this way and that...but considering I was unfamiliar with evasive maneavouring, I just figured that this is what happens when we land in a war zone.

Just as our wheels were supposed to touch the pavement, the plane ascending very quickly about 250 feet, jolted suddenly to the left, and we were careening down another runway. Before our wheels were about to touch once again, my last thought was screaming in my brain: WE AREN'T STRAIGHT!! And the right wing, the wing I was sitting on, slammed into the ground, followed by the nose, and we came to a screeching halt.

Smoke billowed all around, and I could see firemen coming to being watering down the plane: we survived. Over half of the passengers went home due to injuries sustained as a result of the crash...me? I was just grateful to be alive.

But in watching the released video of this civilian aircraft crashing in Bagram...I'm speechless, not only for the seven grieving families left behind (one including a pregnant wife and two little ones), but because I know that fear...that fear right before you hit the ground, and you know that something's not right...

And I pray for them.

I know it's been a while since I've blogged...I guess being in America and so busy has meant that I'm no different than anyone reading: no time for the things we want to do; precious moments spent doing busywork. It will be better now, I have more news to share and will be more attentive to my family and friends curious of my life since I am constantly separated from you all.

If nothing else, trust that although I'm not home often, that doesn't mean I don't know where home is. <3

After a while...

It's been several months now since I've blogged...months filled with incredible joy, adventure, reunions, travel...

with undertones of fear, confusion, and overwhelming pressure.

I knew that coming home was going to stretch me almost equally as much as contracting to Afghanistan did, except in very different ways. Afghanistan grew me, molded me, changed me, and gave me time to reflect and channel. But the demands of America leave me longing to return to the desert...it was so simple and refreshing there, no matter how fearful.

Even as recently as 20 minutes ago, I had to call my Dad and apologize for my behavior during an earlier phone call. There was miscommunication between myself, him, and our insurance agent(s), which has since left my car uninsured. Becoming aware of this today made me resort to my inner-demon:

"Had I taken care of this myself, I wouldn't have to worry right now."
"It's such an easy task, how could it be so difficult to accomplish?"
"Because of these people, I have added stress and expense at a less-than-opportune time."

Mistrusting and belittling remarks literally POURED from my heart in the silence of my living room, and although I thank God that I didn't have the guts to verbalize them, it didn't matter...what my heart was saying was just as potent as if they fell off my lips. Bitterness is in my heart...a sharp reaction that the Military instilled in me for when their requirements are not met, a learned behavior that I am now practicing.

I have found that I expect things to be done 'just so', all the way down to compulsive cleaning and obsession. I find myself wasting time by making a will, designating my belongings, and preparing should I die. I am obsessed with my weight. Since losing 30 pounds, I am terrified of gaining it back. But furthermore, my thoughts concerning losing the remaining weight envelopes me...

you may be thinking, 'the remaining weight??',
but that's the point.

Pretty much the very last possible thing I wanted to do tonight was go to a Mary Kay meeting that I've been waiting WEEKS to go to. 'January Jumpstart' was nearly ruined by my insurance conundrum...but law be damned, I went anyways because I knew in my heart it was where I needed to be.

I couldn't have been any more correct.

After pages and pages of note-taking on how to build my business and perpetuate fun while doing it, I was awoken to truths that my heart knew but my brain forgot. I have been blessed to join a unit here in which God is the foundation of our group...and I don't mean 'God, you're so warm and fuzzy', I mean the kind of God I worship, the 'I'm gonna refine, stretch and mold you until you outgrown the pot you're planted in.'

My eyes are opened that my behavior, thoughts, need for control...whatever you want to call it...stems from my inability to trust others. In Afghanistan, trusting a person meant that your kiester/life was on the line if something went wrong, and that was a risk I was never willing to take. In America, we MUST rely on one another, or how could any request be met? We trust that the papers are filed, the action is pending, that whatever it is is on it's way...that someone, somewhere is taking care of it and it will come back to you completed. And if the ball is dropped...then oops. Try again!

I can't expect to come home from Afghanistan and not change again. I went into war a child, and came out a strong, independent, and articulate woman. THAT refined me. God knows that I am not a sucker for the complacent. So He is lovingly stretching me once more...

and preparing a bigger pot for me. <3

 

warrior ethos

Being in Afghanistan, faced with danger on a daily basis, is going to change a person. This place is an anomoly, harboring delicate beauty in the hell of a warzone. Allowing myself to be open to this place, to let it change me...

 

it has turned me into someone I

could spend the rest of my life with.

 

When I left Minnesota, I was running. I could list a hundred reasons why, but the bottom line was that I was unhappy with myself...and I knew that this adventure was going to change my life forever. Living in depravity has shown me what I can actually live without, but as an American, was choosing not to. This lifestyle is definitely going to be following me home...there is peace in simplicity. And acccording to Da Vinci, it is "the ultimate sophistication."

 

I worry about my mind here though...PTSD, anxiety (which I already deal with regularly, especially while flying), nightmares...and there is no price on my peace, my mind, or my life. I've already managed through a plane crash, my dad's car accident, my relationship failing, rockets coming and going, insurgents tearing down the fence to my camp, the Afghan National Army (ANA) turning on our Marines and instigating gun fights, along with 6 ANA going missing from their compound, I was attacked by a Jordanian soldier in March, being on complete lockdown and relieved from my work duties, revolt from the Koran being burned in Kabul, and the latest grievance of the trailer being released promoting a movie that portrays Mohammed as a womanizer and child molester...along with the daily stress of being an attractive, American, Christian, light-skinned female in an Arab country, in a camp of 3000+ men...

 

To say that I don't take crap from anyone is an understatment. I will never back down, I will never give up, and I will never lose faith. I will never stop fighting for what I believe, encouraging those around me, and giving life to the lifeless. I will never be quieted. I am passionate about those I love and care for, for their happiness and well-being...and I am passionate about my life. Constantly learning and growing, I refuse to be treated less than I deserve...nor will I ever treat another less than they deserve. I will live to be the best human being that I can, with honor, dignity, and integrity.

 

I have the privilege of living the best of both worlds here, Military and Civilian.

And I would never trade this experience for anything, no matter the level of difficulty.

 

 

 

 



 



 

dream interpretations: SO COOL!!

As of late, although I've been trying to remain optimstic about the remainder of my tentue here in Afghanistan, my inner turmoil about it is borderline overwhelming. Stress, fear, uncertainty...but I know that my perserverance will purge my desire to come home.
All of that being said, I had a dream last night...check THIS out.

My dream started when I was in the upstairs of what appeared to be Sarah Pitzen's childhood home, but it was mine. I opened the window (which opened essentially to an overhang of the roof), and there were hundreds of mice scurrying all over the roof. I went to go tell my Dad right away, and I distinctly recall him holding WWII era spectacles, teaching me about them and how they were made a specific way to be worn during wartime.
*end dream*

So, I wake up with warm fuzzies because it's my Daddy and I love him so, but also because he was radiating with pride as he was showing me the artifact. I went ahead and checked out what the meaning of each part of the dream was, and this is what I discovered:

Dreaming of
---mice signifies my spending too much time worrying about insignificant matters and dwelling on minor problems.
---the rooftop signifies a barrier between two states of consciousness; as in, I am protecting my consciousness, mentalities, or beliefs.
---my Dad means that I am trying to incorporate his character into my own. (and I have always said that I absolutely love him, and that he has taught me everything I know about integrity, honesty, and hard work in the face of adversity!!)
---a window signifies bright hopes, vast possibilities, and insight. By opening it, I am opening myself to it, while recognizing that I am worrying about small things that don't matter (the mice).

The fact that my Dad was teaching me means that I feel I am being put to the test, and I am seeking advice and knowledge on how to proceed. My learning means that I am gaining a deeper understanding of myself.

The glasses that my Dad was holding signify that I am being seen and understood, or seeking to be.
Now, the fact that the glasses were from WWII signifies one of two things. Either:
       a: My Dad takes a special liking to learning about history, WWII being his favorite, or
       b: foreshadowing of a metal shock I am about to go through.
                                  *hopefully its the former!! ;)

And I believe that dreaming of Sarah Pitzen's house was just a note of comfort in my childhood. There are notes saying that I have unresolved feelings that I am trying to incorporate into my adult personality, but I don't necessarily agree with that. To dream of my own home would signify my own security, basic needs, and values. But because it was hers, I think it was just safety.

There is definitely something to be said about dream interpretation...and I won't lie, it was interesting learning! I dream very often, but usually, it's pretty clear what I am dreaming about or what the purpose of it is (ie: where I should live, what my future will look like, what God wants me to do with my life, etc) This makes me want to start a dream journal so I can keep track of patterns and other notes...dream on! :)


 

No, read THIS one.

You know, I was sitting here thinking...because hey, there isn't really much else to do...and I came to the conclusion:

I'm awesome.

I've got a lot going for me...I am leaps and bounds ahead of the game in almost every way. I am out seeing the world, adventuring, grabbing life by the horns and never settling for anything less than I deserve. I might be homesick, but this is life!! And it won't wait for me to get myself together.

In order for me to seize this, I have to be strong. In order for me to strong, I have to look deeeeeep inside myself and rediscover my purpose. Being here, my purpose wasn't as much to serve other people as it was to just quiet myself and learn about others and the world. America is a very loud and demanding place...and it doesn't leave much time or space to do anything other than serve yourself. My Visa card can attest to that. I feel like I am detoxing from that lifestyle again, back into the world of deprivation...but now, I am going to find ways to bring my life of simplicity HERE back into my life at home. That deprivation can translate into homesickness...its easier to just keep doing the drug than to force myself to sober up from the life of "I-want-what-I-want-how-I-want-it-NOW".

I guess that's all there is to it! I am living  a good life, deprived of the unnecessary, and rich in experiences that constant mold and refine me into the woman that I want to be.

into the fire

sobbing.

i laid down for a nap and woke up 12 hours later, disoriented and crying. so much has changed here since i've been gone...even little things, like the area where i used to sit and skype? it's no longer there. so now? i don't know where to go.

i feel like i intentionally threw myself into a nightmare, no looking back. unfortunately, that will do nothing to help me through this, so i eagerly search for things to be grateful for.

that i washed and bagged up my bedding before i left. (so it's clean and fresh to make now)
...(pause)...
i saw some coworkers who asked about my trip...?
...(pause)...
honestly, this is a lot harder than i thought it would be...
i'm grateful i made it here in one piece.

i was talking to a friend today who told me that even though i am weak currently, i wouldn't have come back here if i didn't think i could do it. it was like a light switch in my brain because...

she's absolutely right.

no matter how testing this is, i wouldn't have thrown myself into this fire if i didn't think that i could make it out. so that is the single strand i cling to now...i can make it out of this. i'm not alone, if anything...i have God here with me, and He can feel every beat of my broken heart as He carefully soothes and comforts it (and me) now.

and i will never regret coming back here and shining my light into the darkness...i would if i didn't. So i will move forward and grow where i am planted now, relying on God's strength which far outweighs my own...

it is the only resolution to this. <3

home.
-to return by instinct to one's territory after leaving it.

It has felt incredibly refreshing to be home, back to the place where I was raised, where I know every turn of every dirt road within miles of the farm. Being in the company of my best friends and closest family has completely healed every ache and longing I felt being away. But the gnawing of my approaching return to the battlefield is weighing heavier each day...feeling like a lump in the back of my throat that I just...can't gulp...down...

I am in the midst of a mid-vacation crisis, running through my mind all the things that I wanted to do when I was home that I won't have time for now...and I wonder if this is a small version of what people experience in their forties.

When I left for Afghanistan in January, I was on the brink of the most grand of adventures, diving headlong into an experience I was ill-prepared for in every way, save ambition. I am already beginning to brace myself for re-entry...preparing every facet for impact. Because really? That's what it feels like...

Joyfully freefalling into the belly-flop on water.

When exposed to danger unknowing of it's depth, unable to grasp the reality of it, coping is easy because one can just move forward. But now, I am going back knowing precisely what I will be encountering...and it makes going back that much harder. My gratitude for those in my life supporting me weighs heavy on me this morning...because that support is what will propel me into the adversities I am about to face once more, all in the name of

Supporting Our Troops.

<3