Juice Fast

Our juice fast was... ambitious. We were attempting a seven day juice fast to detox from the copious amounts of fast food and junk we've been eating. We completed only two days. Apparently you are supposed to prep for a juice fast by cutting out fast food and other fattening and/or sugary foods one to two weeks before you begin the fast. We prepared for our fast by eating brisket, nachos, and beer. Ah well, we know better now.

It wasn't all for naught, however, as I learned some things. Probably the most important thing I learned about the experience is that juicers are really loud. Ok, maybe that's not the most important thing I learned, but it is a good point to note if you live in an apartment with paper thin walls. Sorry, neighbors! No, we're not pressure washing the kitchen; just makin' some juice. I did learn that I'm crazy addicted to food. Mexican is my kryptonite. And bread. And cheese. And... Shoot, a girl's gotta eat! But in all seriousness, the experience really taught me the difference between hunger and a desire to eat. The juice was providing me the nourishment I needed, yet I still wanted to munch. Another positive thing about this experience is that it seems that the two days of consuming nothing but raw fruit and vegetable juice has help to reset my cravings. I will always love carne asada, but billboards for fast food now make my stomach churn. I find myself once again craving all kinds of nutrient rich foods. Before the fast, I was in a greasy slump and my body had forgotten what it really wanted.

We drank the same juice for most of the first day and I wanted to scratch my tongue out. The recipe we used called for ginger. I am what they call a supertaster. (Scientifically confirmed, in fact. But that's another story.) This means that I'm freakishly good at identifying certain flavors. People like me tend to be food critics and wine connoisseurs. My super tasting doesn't lend me any fancy title, instead some flavors just really jump out at me. That was the case with the tiny bit of ginger that was in the recipe we drank for the first day. You know that scene in the movie Ratatouille when Remy tastes food and there are little fireworks popping in the background? I can so relate to this visual representation of taste because that's exactly what the ginger was like for me. Except that most of the ingredients had a decent flavor that combined well like a talented band and the ginger was the one annoying off key instrument. So we experimented with different recipes in which I omitted the ginger.

My favorite juice so far is as follows:
4-6 leaves of kale
1 cucumber
2 carrots
2 green apples
2 oranges
1 half lemon

We are back to eating real foods like normal people, but we are still enjoying making homemade juices. We try to include some dark green leafy vegetables in each batch, but a sweet all-fruit juice is a nice treat every once in awhile. And for me, that's what it's all about: the balance.

Vacation Detox

Well, I did it! It's been two weeks without Facebook and it feels pretty good. The only time I miss it is when I think about friends that are having babies soon and I want to know if the big day has come and other updates about people I don't see often (Hey, Madeleine B. email me!). I will probably reactivate it soon, but it's been a nice break.

We just got back from a trip back home to California. John got to see his family and friends for the first time in over year. It was touching to see how loved he is. A week seemed like way too short of time, but we managed to squeeze a lot in, including birthday celebrations and a lake day. We throughly enjoyed the crisp California air and lack of humidity. We even got to wear sweatshirts most nights!
Ah, that bay breeze!

Getting back to one's "roots" is always refreshing and grounding. It was nice to have face to face interactions with people we love. One not so refreshing part of being home, however, was eating tons of junk and gaining weight. Since John got home from deployment, we've been indulging on all kinds of foods that aren't so healthy. This past week it finally caught up with us as we tried to consume as much of our favorite foods we can't get here in Texas. We decided that needing to unbutton our pants to sit down isn't acceptable so tomorrow we are starting a seven day juice fast to just reset our systems, so to speak.

We're trading in carne asada fries, burgers, pizza, and buffalo wings for kale, cucumbers, apples, and celery. The first three days we'll be drinking the "mean green" juice which includes the above ingredients as well as ginger root and lemon. Days 4-7 we'll add in other things like carrots, blueberries, and flax seed. Once the week long juice fast is over, we'll slowly start to add in whole fruits and vegetables (not just the juice), nuts, beans, fish, poultry, whole grains, and treats. Neither one of us wants to be rigid and never eat junk again, but we're hoping to sort of cleanse out the crap we've consumed the last two months and get back into a more moderate lifestyle. When John was gone I started eating healthier and exercising more. He did the same and we both felt an improvement in our energy level and overall well-being. I also didn't have a cold sore for 7 months (I was getting one about once a month before). Unfortunately, I have two healing up and one more just popped up this morning. I'm hoping the fast and subsequent healthy lifestyle will again subdue the outbreaks. I hear the first three days are the hardest as the body goes through a sort of withdrawal period. I'm up for the challenge and looking forward to pushing myself. It will be a great exercise in self-control and discipline.

This is all we'll be consuming over the next three days! If you see us over the week, please encourage us to keep going;  I'm sure we'll need it!

I've been thinking about getting rid of Facebook for awhile. I told my husband that it's become a distraction from real life, that I got addicted to it while he was gone. That's embarrassing to admit. Everyone loves to hate Facebook and say how stupid it is, yet here am I admitting that it's become a real part of my life. I had an excuse while he was gone; it was our main form of communication during deployment. I was constantly online hoping to never miss him when he had internet access. But now that he's home, why am I still in this toxic "I hate it, but can't get away from it" relationship with a social media site?

I think the reasons go deeper than the ones I freely offered at first. We live in a culture where our lives are on display and it is becoming harder to see what "over sharing" really is. Even as I write that sentence, I realize that this blog puts my life on display and that I may over share even here. With the ever-increasing lack of privacy, I feel the need to perform. I want people to give me a thumbs up and "like" me. My dear husband says I need to forget about what other people think, that it's an impossible task to please everyone. I know he's right. As evolved and mature as I'd like to think I am, I still want people to like me. Again, I start to get embarrassed, until I realize that every honest human being would admit that they want to be liked and accepted too.

That embarrassed feeling has been creeping up a lot lately. Like when I said the "F word" in public and later realized that there was a couple nearby that goes to my church. Like when someone warned me that a certain beach has a lot of women in bikinis and I told her that I wear a bikini. Like when someone posts a picture of me on Facebook drinking a cocktail. I don't want my church friends seeing those things. But the truth is I like music that makes me want to gyrate my hips. I wear a bikini and push-up bras. I can hold my own with the infantrymen and sound like one too.

That embarrassed feeling is conviction, Carsen. You feel that way because you know it's wrong. 
Maybe. Maybe not.

That embarrassed feeling creeps up in other aspects too. My "wild" side isn't the only one on display online. My faith is too. Those that know me know that I have a spiritual life that is active and real. I don't want my church friends to see me one way, but then I find myself not wanting others to know that I want to follow God. Mostly because of the tainted image that it's become. Mostly because others have screwed that up for me. Mostly because many people see my faith as something used to condemn and judge other people. I want to share my faith with others, but I don't want them to think I'm another one of "those" people. Spirituality is something deeply personal to me, yet it is very much a part of who I am. I can't hide it. But sometimes I want to.

That's a sin, Carsen. You are *supposed* to be unashamed. 
Maybe. Maybe not.

I told my husband I was feeling this way. Told him that maybe I should stop leading a double life. That maybe I need to pick the bikini-wearing, cocktail-drinking, curse word-saying life or I need to pick the modest, religious, straight as an arrow life. There's something in the Bible about that, wineskins or wells or something. But is it really a double life? Maybe this "wild side" isn't bad at all, but the way God made me. Maybe he created me to think for myself and to rebel against the "should's" and the "oughts." Maybe he gave me this fiery spirit that gets pissed off at injustice and can't be quiet about it. Maybe he's made me to be comfortable and relatable to infantryman and the likes so that I can show them His love. Maybe if I wore a one-piece swimsuit and blushed when someone said "shit," I'd make people who are not in the church not want to be around me. Jesus never sinned or compromised his standards or made excuses for sin, but he did hang out with prostitutes and thieves and the poor.

That's justifying your actions, Carsen. Your thinking is wrong. 
Maybe. Maybe not.

And that thing about wineskins or wells or something... I'm pretty sure that's about the heart. The God who created me cares about my heart, not outside appearance. He cares about how I love people and care for people. He cares about me loving Him and He wants a relationship with me. He wants me to care about what He thinks. Because that's the thing about Facebook and humans in general, most can't see the heart. What is seen is just a glimpse of a person's whole self. I have given authority to certain people to correct me when I'm wrong because I trust their opinions and know that they know me deeper than just about everyone in the Facebook world. Maybe that's what I really long for: relationships that care about the heart. Maybe I don't want any more fake relationships that just see pictures and words out of context. Maybe I'm sick of telling someone something in person and they cut me off saying, "Yeah, I read your status." Maybe I want real relationships that I'm not worried about going awry based off of something on a stupid website. Maybe what I really want is authenticity.

Now that's just crazy talk, Carsen. 
Maybe. Maybe not.

a soldier's return

After 257 days of deployment, my soldier returned. It's been a month since that day and the whirlwind of emotions is starting to wane. I believe my emotional, jumpy basal ganglia have been on overdrive while the logical, focused cortex has been sitting back and laughing. The fog is slowly clearing and I'm starting to feel like myself again. Hello, logical brain, it's so nice to see you.

The few weeks leading up a soldier's return are probably the worst. One might imagine that it's full of excited joy and hopeful anxiousness. For me, that didn't come until about 20 minutes before I was in his arms. Before that, there was mostly weariness, grumpiness, and about-to-cut-someone's-throatness. I was on edge and thought I was going to implode if one.more.person asked me when he was coming home. The fact is, the wife doesn't know because the soldier rarely knows. John was given an estimated date, but even when that date rolled around, it was unclear if he'd be en route that day or not. He had to report for a briefing and then leave his base to go to the one he'd be flying out of. This wasn't my first time dealing with the military so there was no surprise that the plane had malfunctions and his flight got delayed. It's true what they say about hurry up and wait. I decided to screw the hurry up part and just waited. When I knew that he was no longer in the Middle East, I tried to convince myself to get excited. My brain refused and decided to go into shock mode instead. In other words, the jerk checked out on me. When my brain, i.e. my filter, checked out, I decided I should probably turn off my phone. I was a WMD waiting to be set off.  

He was experiencing much more weariness, grumpiness, and about-to-cut-someone's-throatness than I was and our collective stinky attitude made it feel like we were constantly on the verge of a fight. I think this is why the Bible says soldiers should be unmarried and that husbands and wives should "not deprive one another." There was seriously about to be a throw down and I didn't know if we'd like each other that much once we were reunited. I didn't like myself, so how could I expect someone else to adore me? The fear of an impending breakdown coupled with bickering and tension made it hard for me to comprehend a rosy reunion. I hate to break it to you, but it's not like the movies. There wasn't any hanging parachute escapades or usurped military planes floating into the sunset in my future. Just an emotional wreck of a wife and an exhausted heap of a husband.  

The unit set up a website with information about the ceremony times so that families could stay updated about changes since communication with our soldiers while they were en route wasn't guaranteed. The day that John was supposed to arrive was spent refreshing that website to see if there were any more delays. I started to get ready and then realized I hadn't eaten much all day. A friend and seasoned Army wife brought me over some food and hung out with me while I finished primping. I think if I had been alone, I would have freaked out. I'm thankful for her distraction. It wasn't until I was already on post that I remembered that I didn't know where I was going. The vague directions I had were to go in the main gate and to follow the big signs. There weren't any signs. I started calling people, but no one picked up. I knew the general direction of the field and division headquarters so I headed that way. Somehow, my Spidey senses got me to where I needed to be. My in-laws and parents had surprised me by hiring a photographer to capture the event. When I got to the field where the ceremony was to take place, I met up with some friends and the photographer. I started to feed off of everyone's energy. The excitement was contagious. I remember taking a deep breath and thinking to myself that I didn't want my fear and stress to ruin this moment. We'd deal with the change later, I thought, but right now I just want to savor this happiness. 

The ceremony actually started early. It felt too fast because I had no time to process what was going on. The white buses were coming, being led by police cars. My heart was pounding and tears started to fill my eyes. My love, my best friend, my soulmate was on one of those buses and he was here to stay until the next duty called. The buses lined up and the soldiers disembarked and formed up behind the buses. The DJ started the chant, "Move that bus! Move that bus!" The buses finally moved and there stood my hero with his battle buddies. They marched forward and there was a small ceremony to retire the colors and say a prayer. Then we were instructed to charge each other Braveheart style. I had told John what I was going to be wearing and what my sign looked like. I stood out in the field holding my "Kiss Me" sign with darting eyes. I watched as other wives hugged and kissed their husbands, but couldn't see mine. Finally, I saw him walking in the back of the crowd. I tugged on the photographer's hand as I ran to my love. He saw me and I heard him say, "There she is." It felt like he had picked me for the first time. The following few seconds were the sweetest. Hugs, kisses, and smiles that I will hold in my memory for years to come. 

The practical growing pains of coming back together and reestablishing our roles as husband and wife have been tiring. It's truly been a month of coasting through the highs and lows. He's changed. I've changed. Our situations have changed. We've grown older physically as well as emotionally. Things are starting to smooth over as we get back into a rhythm and new normal. Night time has been redeemed for me. While he was gone, it was one of the loneliest times. Now as I lay in bed, I am often awake as I hear his breathing change from relaxed to a deep sleep. I think back on those fitful nights and the ups and downs of the last month and know that these moments make the other ones totally worth it. They never said it would be easy. This marriage thing is hard, especially in the military world. But as I snuggle up close to my partner in life, I know that it's going to be okay. My soldier is home. 

photo by Alisha Norman 

redeployment

The term redeployment refers to a unit or soldier coming home from a deployment (not deploying again, as I thought when I first heard the term). As my husband and his fellow troopers near redeployment, we are given resources and strategies on how to best handle the transition. One resource says, "Redeployment is not an event; it is a process."

I think this is the hardest part for first timers and civilian family members to understand. Thankfully, I'm not naive enough to believe that everything will be perfect when he walks in the door. I'm definitely ready to have him home. I'm so tired of this separation and ready to have a human husband, not just a computer I'm attached to. I want him home more than anything. However, it doesn't feel like one exciting event and that's it. Don't get me wrong, the day I see him on the field coming toward me, I will be a blubbering mess. I won't be able to sleep the night before knowing that my soldier will soon be with me, face to face, lip to lip. Yet, I still find myself holding back.

One of the reasons that I can't get overly excited about his return is that I've learned in my year and a half as an Army wife that plans change quickly and often. I may be given a certain date and/or time for his return and that could change multiple times before his last plane lands. This can be an extremely stressful time, as I have to remain flexible, ready for anything, and somewhat guarded. I can't get my hopes up for a certain time. My husband will be returning on a military flight, so if there are problems with equipment, he doesn't just catch the next plane out. He will have to wait until the plane gets fixed or another one becomes available. I know he's coming soon, and within a certain window of time, but I can't get excited until I know he's already en route to his final destination.

Another reason I may seem hesitant to become excited is that we have a lot of work ahead of us. It will be worthwhile, desired work, but work nonetheless. People are constantly changing, but separation makes those changes more obvious. I know I have changed, and John certainly has as well. His return will not just be a giant celebration (though it will be that!), it will also be a sensitive time of relearning each other as spouses and individuals. My priorities and perspectives on things have shifted. John's world and self views have altered. Redeployment will be a period of time in which we come together again and work out these new differences and similarities. It is a time to regroup and check in with one another.

Logistically, redeployment is very much a process as well. He may leave his current post to go to the one he'll be flying out of, but not leave there for a day or two. Just him getting here may be a three day process. He will be busy with briefs and traveling. Our communication will most likely be spotty. When he lands in the states, he will have more processing to do. He will be here, but it will be another one to two hours before I can see him. He will be traveling with his weapon and when they land he will have to turn it in before he goes on the field to greet me. There will be a couple hundred soldiers that will need to do the same, as well as some other tasks, before they can leave the airfield and get on the buses to come to awaiting family and friends. Once they are bused over to the field where loved ones are waiting, they need to disembark the bus and get into formation. The chaplain will pray and say a few words. The color guard will retire the colors. After all of that, we will be able hug our soldiers and take them home.

And yet, with all of that, the in-processing is still not over. He will return to regular work days. He will have physical training in the morning and a series of tasks he's to accomplish each day as a part of his "reverse soldier readiness program." This will include a physical and medical evaluation, a phycological evaluation, turning in equipment, and other various duties. The time immediately following deployment is often a scary one, as the amount of serious incident reports goes up. These "serious incidents" include things like domestic violence, drunk driving accidents, and suicide. The men and women in charge of the unit try to minimize these incidents by keeping a controlled environment and a tight reign on the soldiers until they are well acclimated into their new lifestyle. It will be frustrating as his wife because I will want him home, but it is an important part of his transition.

Much of the questions I have been asked are things that I can't answer. Sometimes the answers are too personal to talk about, things I can't share for security purposes, or are simply answers that I do not have. It is an exciting event that I'm so looking forward to. However, please understand that it is also a complex, sensitive process. My desire right now is to not share anything with anyone because it feels like if I give a bit of information, people want to know more. I know the questions are genuine and heartfelt, and I feel guilty for being annoyed by them. However, often times the questions remind me of all the things that I do not know. I've explained the basics of what the next few months will look like, but as far as the specifics go, only time will tell. I don't want anyone to think that I don't want to share the joy of my husband's return. He is loved by many, and we are so thankful for that. I will let our friends and family know once he's back. I'm sure that much of this anxiousness and stress will subside once he's finally in my arms. For now, however, I ask that you let me lay low for a bit. I need privacy and solitude to process my own emotions and personal changes that have occurred over this period. I need distance from the noise to be able to be fully present for my husband. I need grace to be able to feel all these things, and so much more. I need the courage to face the unknown. I need the strength to join with my husband as a united team and face this next phase in our lives. I need the freedom to finally be able to experience the immense joy of our reunion.

I love you all and know that you love me and John so much. I covet your prayers and quiet support; I know we need it. I'm thankful to be a part of a family that mourns together and rejoices together. I love keeping everyone in the loop and up to date on the latest news. I'm a storyteller and extrovert at heart. I doubt I'll be quiet for long. Until then, I send my love and gratitude to you all, and thank you for the space in advance. He'll be in my arms soon. :)

labor

"I can't help but compare it to the transition period during labor. You're super close to your happy ending, but somehow it feels that much more overwhelming and shitty. You only get that ultra-high after experiencing ultra-pain."

My friend wrote those words to me almost a month ago. As I read her words, I was so thankful to have friends who speak my language, who know exactly what to say to me. 

Transition is the last stage of active labor, just before pushing begins. A woman is typically fully dilated or very close. This is the worst part for most women. Her logical brain shuts off and she begins to utter or think unreasonable things. She is exhausted after many hours of laboring. She can become shaky, panicky, and weepy. However, this stage is typically short and passes quickly, especially when the woman is well-supported. She gets her second wind and is ready to push out her baby. 

I've had this analogy on my mind all month. I'm getting so close to my happy ending, but my friend is right: it feels overwhelming and shitty. Again, the fear of the unknown creeps in. Am I going to split in half? Do I have what it takes to get through this? Will everyone be safe and healthy? Is my family going to be ok? Am I ready to take on the challenges of what's to come? 

Time feels suspended in the air. It feels as though there is a clock floating in space, counting down days, yet there is no logical pattern in any of it. Time is some abstract idea that I cannot grasp. Just as pregnancy will end, this deployment will end, yet no one can say exactly when. I am like a pregnant woman in labor who wants pregnancy to be over with, to hold her love in her arms, but no one can tell me exactly when that will happen. No one knows how much longer I must endure. 

But getting that baby out isn't the end of labor. The placenta must also come out. Any tears that occurred must be repaired. Any bleeding must be stopped. The uterus contracts and begins to return back to it's original size, though it may take many weeks or months to do so. The family begins to transition into it's new dynamics.  

Many woman have found that the most freeing part of labor is the moment they surrender to the process. We fight and resist pain, we try to protect ourselves from any harm. Yet pain in labor means that things are doing what they are supposed to. It means things are moving along and the end is nearing. It means a life is coming into this world. In this process of deployment, I have found freedom in surrendering to the process. Pain means I'm very much alive. Pain means my heart is wide open to let love out. 

This surrendering to the pain and process means I'm regaining my strength. It's allowing me to glide through life's ups and downs, one pressure wave at a time, without resisting the rhythm of it all. It means I've regained hope and confidence as I transition into the next stage. I'm starting to get my second wind. I will come through this. Tears may need to be stitched. Wounds may bleed. Pain and stinging will be felt. But life... fresh, sweet, new life... will come out of this process. 

deployment as seen in sleeping positions

The beginning

 A few months in

 Half way through

 Currently, with one month left

I'm going to have to start training myself to sleep on my side of the bed again. ;)