by Mollie Gross
A lot of wives get into this martyr routine of, “I suffered more than you.” They want their husbands to believe they gave just as much.
It’s like their emotional needs are a bag that needs to be filled up. And yet, there’s a hole in the bottom of it. No matter how much their husbands try to fill them up, it leaks out of the hole leaving them feeling empty. Eventually they will stop trying to fill the bag. The marriage is never the same.
Find acceptance and address legitimate concerns that can be changed. Don’t bitch just to bitch. It becomes an endless cycle.
Nor is this a competition. I have had civilian friends ask Jon, “Who had it worse? Your freaked-out wife back home? Or you at war?”
Jon and I have the same answer. We both believe the other had it worse.
Jon says that he knew when he was in danger and when he was safe. He knew when to worry. He knew he was alive and breathing. But, he always felt bad for me because I never knew from one minute to the next whether he was dead or alive.
I say he definitely had it worse. I could get distracted, go to the movies or out with friends, drink a soda or a beer, eat out at a restaurant—all without someone trying to kill me. He was on alert 24/7 and in constant danger.
The point is we both recognize it was hard for each of us in different ways. And we love and honor each other for the strength and character we exuded in those times.
SHARING
I didn’t push Jon to talk about what he had gone through or experienced over there. He shared what he wanted to share. I didn’t have to prove that I could understand. He knew I did. He only told me what he knew I could handle, which was not much.
I believe wives don’t need to know everything.
We pulled out photo albums so I could show him pictures from all the parties and celebrations the other wives and I threw.
It warmed his heart to know I was not home crying and sulking during his entire deployment. It brought Jon peace and joy to know that I had been taking care of myself and hadn’t been crying and depressed every day. That made me proud of myself.
To this day there are photos of his time in Iraq that I have not seen, and I will probably never see them. While he was gone, I never told Jon when I was afraid, when I had had a bad day, or when there was a family crisis. Jon’s ongoing gift to me is to never share the gory details of the missions and dangerous events he experienced.
We kept our concerns and fears in our own hearts. We didn’t need to burden the other. That is love.
Over time we began to share some of what had happened in our separate lives during those months.
FALSE PREGNANCY
After Jon’s second deployment we took a cruise to Mexico. It was our official “honeymoon,” although it took place three years after our wedding.
Carl and Natalie were also going on a cruise, so Natalie and I went wild shopping for “cruise wear.” I wanted to get some tops that would be comfortable as well as cool since it gets hot in Mexico
I purchased a ton of these smocked baby doll tops. They are gathered with elastic at the top then flare out in a baby doll fashion at the torso. The tops made my boobs look bigger than usual, which was annoying. My chest looked like one big boob in the middle.
Despite this, I liked the fact that the design flared out so much you could not see my stomach. Cruise ships are notorious for encouraging gluttony. I knew that I could eat as much as I wanted and would not have to worry about hiding a huge bloated belly. Covering my bloated gassy belly was more important than having deformed-looking boobs.
When we reached our first port on the cruise, I was feeling comfortable in my smocked top and shorts. We met another couple from the ship near the cab station and decided to share a ride. We were chatting about the cruise, what excursions we would being doing, and general chatty stuff you would expect.
The other couple said they were going to swim with dolphins. I was thrilled for them. I started my typical whining, asking Jon if we could also swim with dolphins.
The lady started to giggle. She patted my knee and said, “Well, you certainly can’t do that now in your condition, but maybe next time.” She looked at her husband. They smiled at each other and then looked back at me.
After we reached their destination and they got out, I found myself wondering if there were size restrictions for dolphin riding.
Later that day, as Jon and I were shopping, the locals kept trying to sell us goods. One by one they approached me with different items. They were calling back to each other and then pointing at me and calling me “Momma.” I was flattered. I thought they were telling each other I was a “hot momma.”
When one of them brought me a baby onesie that said, “Mexico” on it, it dawned on me what they meant: the locals calling me Momma, the baby onesie, the lady in the cab.
I turned to look at myself in a full-length mirror in the shop and saw my luxury “cruise wear” top made me look six months pregnant! So that’s why people had been letting me go to the bathroom first if there was a line. I vowed to toss all the tops as soon as we got home.
By that night I had forgotten all about my “baby” and was tearing it up at the Karaoke bar on the ship.
Since we were on vacation and didn’t have to drive, Jon and I were throwing down the vodka.
I was on stage with my drink in my hand singing and slurring Tina Turner’s “Private Dancer” when the couple from the cab walked in. They stared at me with their mouths hanging open, their eyes moving from me, to my drink, at Jon, and then back at me. Finally, they shook their heads and walked out. When mommy boozes, baby loses.
PEEPING TOM
The cruise was the best vacation Jon and I had ever had. We finally relaxed. No more deployments faced us. We felt like newlyweds and were acting like them, too.
After a fun afternoon at the pool, we would go up to our room to shower and change. We had this amazing room with a balcony and would fall asleep with the window open listening to the sounds of the ocean. I kept the curtains open so I could see the open sea.
After rinsing off one afternoon I ran out of the shower buck naked and started running around the room like a wild woman. I started doing jumping jacks and various exercises to make Jon laugh.
He peeked his head out of the bathroom to watch me, and his eyes went wide. The next thing I knew, he jumped out of the bathroom and plowed right over me. For a split second I thought it was some sort of weird sexual advance, but kept going, shouting like a mad man.
As I watched from ground level, Jon grabbed the curtains and pulled them shut. He turned around with a horrified look on his face and said, “Someone was out there on the balcony WATCHING YOU!”
He turned back to look through a tiny section of the curtain. He was totally freaked out.
Jon is so modest he would prefer to jump overboard rather than face the fact someone had been peeping in on us.
I got up to look and spotted someone out on the balcony, but he didn’t have a pair of binoculars or a camera. He was washing windows, dancing to the music coming from his headphones.
Scrubbing away at his railing, this guy obviously had no idea I was in my room doing nude Jazzercise. Excuse me, the ship’s railing (just in case you interpreted that as a metaphor for something perverted).
Jon watched him until he moved on a full five minutes later.
For the rest of the cruise, Jon gave all the janitors and crew on the ship the stink eye. He was convinced they were all looking at me as if I was not wearing any clothes.
The ocean view just wasn’t the same for the remainder of the cruise. But I did get a great idea for a new type of exercise video.
GET THE FACTS:
Find out the true symptoms of PTSD. Don’t fall for these tricks like I did.
∗ The smell from taking out the trash does not lead to flashbacks;
∗ Playing Wii an entire weekend is not a positive coping mechanism;
∗ Despite what he tells you, the FDA does not guarantee givin
g him oral sex before bed will cure nightmares.
BACK TO NORMAL?
Ok, so it’s been a few weeks. You’ve been on vacation and have had your family reunion. The kids are sleeping in their own beds. Your husand is back at work. The excitement has worn off.
Now you think as you look at him, “Who is this stranger in my house?”
Basically, you’re done being nice. You’ve done everything for at least the past seven months—paid the bills, taken out the trash, done the dishes, shopping, yard work, everything. Even during the first few weeks after his return, you continue doing all these tasks.
Your husband feels a bit worthless as he watches you buzz around the house like a queen bee. You need to realize men need to feel important. You need to put this man back to work as a member of the household. But do it the right way.
You must slowly get him used to sharing responsibilities again. You’re the matriarch. This is your home. You know how it runs.
Although your man may not be facing another deployment, he is still in the military and has many responsibilities. You need to make the major chores your responsibilities.
Here is the key. Give him simple tasks that you know he can complete without screwing up. Have your man do things like take the trash out or carry a basket of dirty laundry down the steps for you.
Don’t even think about allowing him to do the laundry. You know that will be a disaster. He’ll mess it up even though he is trying to help. And you will be a nasty bitch complaining because he didn’t do it the way you do it.
This is the stage in the reunion adjustment period where you both start to get nasty.
This is where I have a beef with the DIs (Drill Instructors) out there. I have noticed Marines do not listen to a word their wives say unless we scream at them. You can’t gently and calmly request your Marine to do something around the house. He won’t respond.
I would go so far as to say they don’t even hear you unless you go into DI mode. The DIs have trained these men to respond to certain tones and inflections. They block out everything else.
If you want them to do something you have to get in their face screaming, “3, 2, 1! ON YOUR FEET!”
“Get up right now and take out the trash.”
“NO!”
“Do it right! Get it back.”
“GET IT BACK!”
“ZERO!”
It is bizarre, I admit. I still feel really weird when I have to do it.
Your main argument with your man once you’re back to normal becomes, “You’re not doing enough around here to help!”
And when you give him something to do, you find yourself yelling, “You don’t do it right, so I will just do it myself!”
Ladies, if these men are constantly being told they can’t do it right, they will stop offering to help. Ask yourself this: when he stops wanting to help, where will you be?
Pick your battles wisely. Be patient. Give your husband chores that will make him feel like he is needed and part of the family without overwhelming both of you or the balance of the home.
Ladies, in military life you hold the power in your home. You call the shots. Most importantly, you are responsible for maintaining the balance there.
I remember Jon wanted to do some things, so he offered to unload the dishwasher. I thought I would have a heart attack as I stood their watching him handling my dishes. He was putting cups away next to the soup bowls, and forks next to the cups.
I wanted to scream, “What is your damn problem? Did you ever live here? Quit fucking up my kitchen! Do you even know where anything goes? The colander doesn’t go next to the baking sheets! You are a moron! How is it you can search all over Iraq for weapon caches, but you can’t take a second to find out where the damn soup bowls go?”
I simmered as I watched him, curse words ready to fly. And then I remembered: he knows about as much about a kitchen as I know about Iraq.
I’m not going to say we didn’t get into it at various times because we did. I simply learned to pick my battles.
A lot of wives complained about how their husbands interacted with their babies and small kids. Children can go through a lot of changes in six months and dads miss a lot. Routines and responsibilities change. Take the time to incorporate dad into the new structure at home.
A common complaint I heard from my girlfriends was, “He wiped the baby wrong, bathed the baby wrong, burped the baby wrong.” These wives were fired up.
A week later I would hear, “He never wants to help with the baby.”
You think?
Adjusting to having Jon at home was frustrating and exhausting. Sometimes I felt like there was a child in my home but, Lord knows I was thankful that he was there.
Many of us put too much emphasis on our homes because it was the only thing we could control and make stable and safe during the deployment. It was an effort to let go of that control, but Jon also needed a sense of belonging.
Take deep breaths before blowing your cool over how he does something. Just be thankful he’s home.
SEPARATION ANXIETY
After Jon’s second deployment we were both experiencing the effects of wartime deployments. I went through a phase where I could not go anywhere without Jon. He could go to work and I could go the commissary and I’d be fine.
But after work or on the weekends I wanted him to be with me. I could not go to the bank, Wal-Mart, or even to the mall. If it was off base, I wanted him with me. If we were on base we were “safe.”
I even had to go with him if he needed to take a trip to Lowe’s.
It was all very subtle; no Xanax needed. I wasn’t having panic attacks or irrational fears. I just wanted to stay physically close to Jon. I know it was because we had been separated for so long and I was afraid to lose him again. And I wanted every minute back that we had lost.
I didn’t even realize the extent I was doing this until months later when I actually went to the mall or bank alone.
It took me months to overcome the panic of two consecutive deployments. It took time to trust that we could be in separate places at the same time and that no one was in danger.
It also took me months to be secure enough to go someplace without him. I remembered one day driving to the store alone and thinking, “I am OK with this. I actually left Jon at the house and am going by myself to the store.”
I remember smiling and thinking a new leaf had been turned over.
Jon went through personality adjustments as well. He became extremely forgetful and seemed to have no short-term memory. You can call it what you want—PTSD, combat stress, whatever. Jon and I were different people after those two years.
It took a while to redefine ourselves, but we did it together. And our love for each other is stronger because we survived those changes.
WHEN YOUR SPOUSE MEETS YOUR WIFE
The wives had been very supportive of one another—until the guys came back. Then we started to get a little catty.
I don’t know if it was because we were all getting laid regularly, but I suspect it may have been the competition over the gifts our husbands brought home.
One wife at a barbecue would start, “My husband brought me back gold from Bahrain,” which was countered by, “My husband brought me back opals from Australia!” That was topped by, “My husband brought me black pearls from Hawaii!”
But there was always that one lady who ruined it for everyone when she piped up, “My husband brought me Chlamydia from Singapore.”
It gets awkward when you’re together again and your husband meets your “wives.” You have shared so much, but now that your husband is back the communication between you and your “wives” has stopped, and you miss them. When your friends have become your surrogate spouse or “new wife,” you can have some serious misunderstandings. Sometimes wives can expect a little too much from each other, or jealousy over intimacy arises when the guys come back. It’s not even in a co-dependent way, but more like siblings fighting.
Some men have trouble slipping back into their role of being a husband. Many are content to act as if they are a guest in their own home, letting the wife run the house and raise the kids while her friends play the role of spouse.
Remember, ladies, you are only treated the way you allow yourself to be treated.
These are military guys. They are used to taking orders, not deciphering clues. Say exactly what you want and expect from them. Jon and I had way too many arguments over his inability to read my mind.
I remember when Beenie was pregnant for the second time. Lloyd was a little freaked out because he had missed the birth of their first daughter. Pregnancy and giving birth were old hat to Beenie, but Lloyd was unsure what to do or what role to play.
When Beenie went into labor, Lloyd called me from the Naval Hospital. He was whispering, “Mollie, I think you should come up here. I think Beenie hates me. I think she’d rather have you here.”
I scolded him and told him, “Lloyd, it’s your turn! Get back in there and rub her back and arms and give her some encouragement, damn it!” I ordered him to go be a husband and a daddy!
I hung up on him. I had to issue a little tough love.
Lloyd ended up doing just fine. And they were glad to share the experience.
The biggest transition for me was that once Jon was home our marriage was just us again. While he was gone, I had had all these women involved in my life. We had shared everything.
But when it was just Jon and me, my girlfriends were no longer a part of my marriage and day-to-day life. They were just my friends again.
I have to admit that my girlfriends knew more about me and my feelings than my husband had learned in our first four years of my marriage. They provided advice for decisions and comfort when I was struggling.
It was very difficult to give that up and transfer those roles back to my husband. If fact, it took years.