Ever since I was a little girl my dad was in and out of my life. Not because my parents were divorced or because he wanted to leave us, but because he is a member of the US military. As a child, I never fully grasped the concept of my dad leaving my family for months at a time to go over seas and fight for our country. It seemed like any other job to me. It wasn’t until he was deployed for a third time when I was a sophomore in high school that I actually understood the full impact that my dad’s job would have on my family.
When my dad told me he was being deployed sophomore year, it was at a very trying time in our lives. Our relationship was struggling; it seemed that every conversation we had resulted in a full-blown fight. But when he told me he was going to Iraq for a year, I broke down and couldn’t comprehend it. I could not grasp why the military needed my 40 year old dad when there were much younger people for the job. From the time that my dad told me he was leaving until the actual day of his departure, we walked on eggshells around each other, trying not to fight before he left for a year. When he did leave, my feelings were a jumbled mess. I was an overflowing pot of conflicting emotions; despair, hatred, confusion, depression, and isolation.
The Despair
When my dad first left it felt like any other trip he went on. I was used to him being gone for a week to a month here and there. After about two months of him being absent, the sadness set in. The pain of not having my dad there to hug me and be a constant presence in my home hit me hard. I would constantly watch videos of soldier’s homecomings and just let the tears flow when I realized I wouldn’t see my dad for another 10 months.
The Hatred
Without my dad around, I began to lash out at every male authority figure in my life. I would become furious if any of them tried to “parent” me. I would ignore my coaches and teachers when they directed me to do something, always thinking, “He’s not my dad, I don’t have to listen to him.” I resented my friends who were able to call up their dad at any time they pleased. I felt that anyone who had their father in close proximity to them had no idea the pain I was enduring. I would blow up if any of them tried to sympathize with my hurt.
The Confusion
In high school I ran hurdles at a very competitive level and my dad was my biggest cheerleader, always pushing me to be my very best. I could count on him to come to every single one of my meets and I looked forward to hearing his cheers and encouragement louder than everyone else’s. Without him at my meets to push and support me, I began to question why I even participated in the sport. I was confused as to whether I ran for me, or for him. I began to resent the sport, and ultimately quit running.
The Depression
My family would try their best to talk to my dad as much as possible, but our everyday lives made that extremely difficult. It was hard to find a time that worked for everyone’s school, sport, and work schedule, not the mention the 8 hour time difference. My dad began to grow depressed. He felt like our lives had moved on without him and that he wasn’t needed anymore. And the truth was, we did begin to move on. It did us no good to sit around and cry that our dad was absent. I believe that is when all of our emotions began to really plummet, when we realized it was possible to live without our dad’s presence in our everyday lives. That’s not to say we didn’t miss him, but the previous pain of his absence seemed to diminish as time went on.
The Isolation
Everyone in my family was going through their own internal struggle. It was a difficult adjustment, and none of us really wanted to talk about the fact that our dad was absent from our lives. My whole family seemed to be closing in on themselves and our communication on the pain that we each individually were dealing with was nonexistent. We were all in limbo; closed off to the world as we endured our own emotional turmoil.
When my dad finally came home, our lives were far from normal. No matter how hard we tried to get back into the swing of our regular lives, it seemed impossible. My dad had been gone for a year for that particular deployment, but overall spent about 5 years away from us in total. After all this time away from each other, we all developed our own coping mechanisms. I thought having him gone was the hard part, but we were not prepared for the PTSD that he was battling. My dad returned home tattered and scarred. His civilian job did not welcome him back with open arms, instead choosing to lay him off. Not only did my dad have to cope with the PTSD he was battling, he had to try to regain control of his family life, and search for a new job.
Thankfully, through open communication, love, and time, my family was able to slowly mend itself back together. It’s been 4 years since my dad returned and our relationship is better than it has ever been. I realized that sometimes it’s best to take steps back and understand where he is coming from when we argue. I learned that everyone has their own internal struggles, and that it’s the people in our lives who love you who will help you cope with it. The time we spent apart evoked emotions that I had never experienced before. My life changed from being seemingly perfect to having my family life uprooted. Thankfully, we were able to learn how to cope with our emotions and fine the good in the hard times.
My dad’s final deployment not only changed him, it changed me as well.