by Amy Bermudez (Army)
I was laying on the couch in crusty pajamas with greasy hair while Netflix played nonstop. My guilty pleasure consumed me: Army Wives. Could I be more cliché?! My hand made an endless loop from a bag of tortilla chips to my mouth while I watched the drama of the fictional females unspool before me. Denise saves a man from a sucking chest wound with her shoelace and a chem light. Roxy owns her own business, has two young children, and never has a hair out of place. Pamela fearlessly navigates rude wives and solves mysteries. Colonel Burton’s husband is a full time psychiatrist and he is still able to meet up with the ladies for lunch. Claudia Joy unpacks her whole house in less than two days.
Weeks in to my new duty station, and I still hadn’t found a reason to unpack more than a few plates and my hair straightener. Everything has found a place now, but the boxes stayed around for far too long, the cardboard embodiment of my apathy. As fake and silly as it is, I am jealous of the TV version of Army Wives. The pilot episode is titled “A Tribe is born.” But where is my tribe? I had one once.
Julie is in Kansas now but not for long. Jennifer lives in Indianapolis, and I think she really loves it. Melissa is still in Texas, along with Santi, Roger, and G. Oh sure, we’re still friends, but we can’t go to Starbucks together or catch up during weekly runs like we used to.
Someone new works in my old classroom. It’s funny that I still think of it as mine. Belly laughs shared during lunch breaks fade into memory. Now I eat lunch alone in my new classroom, a white cinderblock monstrosity with green chalk boards and an air conditioning unit that doesn’t work.
PCSing has so much promise, so much possibility. I can imagine a new me in each new location. Fort Drum Amy is suddenly stylish in scarves and Wellies. Perhaps Fort Hood Amy visits home more often, being as it’s so close. Perhaps Fort Sill Amy wears plaid shirts and soft jeans with country radio turned up loud. Perhaps Fort Lewis Amy would finally become laid back and easy going. She’d take trips to the farmer’s market and buy fresh flowers. Perhaps Fort Bragg Amy would be boisterous with more friends than she can count. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
Everyone told me about the grass, how green it is. Grass is one thing that Tennessee has in spades. Along with trees, humidity, summer storms, sweet ice tea, and sweeter southern accents. After three years living in the desert, who wouldn’t want a little grass? Answer: me.
I miss Fort Bliss. Give me back the dust and wind and the searing summer heat. Give me back Mountain Time and Mexican restaurants and people who call me “Mija.” Give me back my friends and coworkers and people who know me.
Nostalgia is a two-faced mistress. When I think back on memories, the picture-perfect moments float to the top and my mind banishes the hard times. Life at Bliss wasn’t perfect. I spent a year underemployed and over-frustrated. The puppy we fostered for a few months destroyed the guest bathroom in our rental house. Goodbye, deposit. The heat was oppressive April through August. Prickly stickers poked through the sidewalk and stabbed my running shoes and my dogs’ feet.
Why do I long so deeply for Fort Bliss Amy?
I see their faces, my tribe. They didn’t like me because I was someone else. They liked Real Life Amy with no mask. It wasn’t my cowboy boots or twangy accent. They liked the girl who didn’t have to try so desperately, the one who made dirty jokes and giggled uncontrollably after a Coca-Cola induced sugar high and figured it out as she went along.
I’ve heard my husband lament that deployments can feel like Groundhog Day. Maybe PCSing is like that, too. My life has been reset and I’m starting over, off in search of new friends and new beginnings. Same Old Me.
I don’t know how I’ll find my way, but I hope Fort Campbell Amy is brave enough to be herself.
Amy is a writer, middle-school teacher, and Army wife currently living in Tennessee. She loves running, reading, and ice cream (but maybe not in that order) and writes a popular blog, Army Amy. Some of her published articles include “Our Military Family, Our Reality” on The Huffington Post and“Moving is Not Following” on Spouse Buzz. She has a two adorable dogs named Geronimo and Crockett.
Amy, I can totally relate. I hear people joke about those whose only friends are on Facebook, but when you’re someone who moves around all the time, that’s just how it is sometimes. All of my friends are scattered around the US and nowhere near me, so it’s all just phone calls, text messages, emails, posts, and no night-out-with-the-girls, no let’s do lunch and no let’s grab a coffee. Yes, “Give me back my friends and coworkers and people who know me.”
Thank you so much for sharing your experience!
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Thank you, Lisa! I appreciate the solidarity, and it’s nice knowing that there are other people out there like me, even if we only know each other virtually.
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That transition period after a PCS is tough. We moved to Colorado over a year ago and I feel in some ways that I am just now settling in. It often seems that just as you’re getting ready for another PCS you start to hit your stride in a place you have been trying to adjust to for 2 or 3 years. It can take its toll on the military member and the family alike and is such a foreign lifestyle to most people.
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I must have blocked out how hard the transition during a move is. I felt pretty good about moving until the last two weeks of school in El Paso. Then the goodbyes started and I realized that I didn’t want to leave! I’m trying to be patient with myself, but it’s comforting to know that even life long military members still struggle to adjust.