On Becoming Me: Finding A Place

She Googled me.  That’s the funniest and middle part of the story.

The beginning starts two and a half years ago when I arrived on island and sat day after day with my preggo belly rubbing against the computer desk searching the internet in hopes of finding some kind of life here on Okinawa.  I wasn’t sure where to begin to find friends to hang out with and people who might help me figure out the intricacies of this island.  And then one day I stumbled on OkinawaHai.com and specifically a post about yummy, fresh bread in Yomitan. I was so thrilled to discover the voices of women like me writing and demystifying this overwhelming and amazing new paradise.  I quickly became a faithful reader and when, at 6 weeks post-partum, I attempted the Hiji Falls hike with my family (and failed miserably, I might add), I figured I’d jump in with two feet and write it up and submit it to OkiHai.  Meredith posted my ramblings.  And so I did it again.  And again.

After putting up a couple of my posts, Meredith evidently Googled me (ha!) to make sure I wasn’t an ax-murderer or a used car salesman or a good housekeeper and when she was satisfied I was relatively normal, she wrote and asked if I wanted to be a part of the team.  What?  Really?  You want me to be a part of something that might give me a life outside of changing diapers and gazing longingly off base?  Something that would make me feel like a part of this Okinawa experience?  HECK YEAH!

And that was the beginning of beautiful friendships with some incredible women.  Some have already PCS’d out, others have just arrived.  But I know that I will look back on our Okinawa tour and have much of it colored by being part of the OkinawaHai gang.  I’m so glad that I stumbled and jumped into this adventure.

There is a recurring theme that can be found here and on the questions posed on our forum.  It has to do with finding your place on this island.  Making friends, finding places to work or volunteer, identifying yourself with a group that gives you a sense of home here.  Some of us struggle with it more than others, but I think we all yearn to have something to do each day that is meaningful, and people to call locally to share our lives with.

Next week, I’m passing the reins to JaNae, our new editor for Tuesdays.  The “To Work” category is going to be merged with a new “To Mingle” that will encompass even more to help us find our places here.  But she’ll tell you more about that next week.

I encourage you all to stumble and jump into new adventures.  It may be a playgroup or a spouses group, a book club or eating-out club, a ballet class or a birth class.  I certainly couldn’t have predicted that some of my closest friends would come out of that ridiculous trip to Hiji Falls.  And you never know where you’ll find the friends who will brighten your time in Oki.  Stumble and jump. Stumble and jump. 

So.  We've had a beginning, a middle, and this is a kind of ending.  I’ve so loved sharing my experiences with you here on OkiHai and will pop up periodically with more goodies to share before I PCS.  But for now, arigato-gozaimasu and sayonara.

To Work HELP!!

My brain cells have either departed or are on a long hiatus.  

Since the birth of my third child a few weeks back, I can't seem to remember anything.  (TMI WARNING)  The clearest example of this happened last week when I had to go to the lab at Lester to give a urine sample.  The tech gave me the cup, I went into the bathroom, removed the top from the cup setting both on the sink, and in the 2.3 milliseconds it took for me to sit on the toilet, I FORGOT that I was giving a sample.  

Remembered in the last seconds and was lucky to get just enough to run the test.  SIGH.

And why am I sharing embarrassing pee stories??  Because I've lost my mind. 

Well, actually it's because I'd love some help.  I've sat here over the last week or two trying to think of dependent spouses or grown children that I know who work in a field we haven't covered yet in To Work.  And for some reason, the list I came up with was VERY short.  

So, I have two requests of you:

1.  If you are working or know someone working on Okinawa who you think might be willing to fill out our To Work template, please shoot me an email with the person's name/email address.  I'd be happy to contact them!

2.  If there is a career/work field you'd be interested in hearing more about, please email me as well.  I'll beat the bushes and pound the pavement to find someone to fit the bill!  (How many idioms can you use in one sentence?)

Ok, that's it from me this morning.  Off to forget something else...

Oh, my email address.  Forgot to give you that:  joelle1971@gmail.com

On Becoming Me: Help and Advice

My boobs are sick.  And I don't mean that in the positive-slang "That's sick,dude!" sort of way.  They aren't working right.  They are trying though.  I mean, after all, they are solely responsible for feeding an entire human at the moment.  And she's HUNGRY.  It's a big job.

I've made calls to my midwife and the nurses at the OB clinic and visits to the nurses and lactation specialists at Pediatrics on Lester.  They've all been lovely and so helpful.  And at the end of our visits, they've prescribed one medication or another for me...  antibiotics and anti-fungal treatments, etc.

I've also talked with my natural-oriented/hippie friends here and they've suggested acidophilus and hot compresses and massage and air-drying and sunlight.

I've spent lots of time reading online about things I can do, and have read about vinegar solutions, no sugar, no diary, garlic tablets.

And I have a friend who said, are you doing too much?  do you just need more rest?

Everyone means well.  EVERYONE who has an opinion or advice.  They all mean well.  But in the end, I've had a few moments in the last weeks when I've felt like poop-on-a-stick and a also a bit of a failure because of not knowing what to do.  I've been tempted to lop of the offending breasts or just stop talking to all the helpful humans or run home to Mom.

Lucky for me, Mom arrived last week, squeaking in on a flight just after the typhoon passed us by (HOW amazing that it barely dinged us and is wreaking such havoc in Taiwan and China now!).  Her arrival has greatly helped with getting more rest.  And I've decided to do a crazy combination of the other suggestions -- but I'll freely admit that giving up my cheese and ice cream has NOT been adopted well.

  

The boobs are improving and I'm feeling more sane.  But this is not the first time this has happened... a crisis I don't know how to solve.  And the over abundance of helpful help.  The feeling that I don't know what to do in the face of differing and strong advice.  

I think living overseas makes this more extreme.  The people we might most commonly ask for guidance are either deployed or far across the wavy sea.  So we're left to ask advice from strangers or new friends or scour Google for those always-accurate internet answers.  

Some would say that listening to my heart is the best way to go.  But I believe that we are placed within community for reasons.  We don't live alone on a mountaintop.  We live together.  In this village.

So I'm wondering, how do you handle these mini- and sometimes maxi-questions in your life?  Whose advice do you heed?  How do you wade through the opinions and find your spot in it all?  Tell me.  Help me...

**BTW, not seeking breastfeeding advice here -- got enough of that already!

On Becoming Me: Where Are You From?

While Joelle is working on adjusting to becoming a mother a three, I've offered to write her "To Work" post this week.  But don't worry - she'll be back soon!

~~~~~

My husband and I grew up in different states, and when we moved to Germany together after getting married, one of the first questions people asked us was, “Where are you from?” I always answered, “I'm from Connecticut, and my husband is from Virginia,” because even though I'd attended college there and my brand-new driver's license with my brand-new last name said Virginia on it, that's not where I was from. I was from Connecticut.

The question has gotten significantly more complicated the more we move around. Yes, I was born and raised in that New England state, and yes, my husband was born and raised in that more southern state, but our children weren't. My daughter can more easily say that she's from Germany, or South Carolina, or Colorado, or Okinawa than she can from either of the states her parents used to claim as home. My son was born in Colorado, but has lived here on Okinawa for a greater percentage of his life than he was there. Does that mean he's now “from” Okinawa?

This is all new territory for me. I used to be able to answer that question without a second thought or a moment's pause, but not so any longer. My once simple answer grew longer when I got married; does it now mean that it should become that much more complicated, now that my two children can claim different regions of origin?

I asked my daughter this very question the other day, and she answered without hesitation and with all the conviction of a five-year-old, “I'm from Germany.” And what about her brother? “He's from Colorado.” Nevermind that she remembers nothing from her first year and a half of life there; she associates Germany as where she's from. But then, it's easy to have such a concrete answer when you're that young. Where you're born is where you're from.

But what about when you're older, when answers like that aren't so black and white? When you've lived in state after state, and country after country, making a home for yourself everywhere you go? I wonder what my daughter's answer will be when she's ten, or fifteen, or twenty. I wonder what answer she'll give to her own children someday, when they ask her where she's from? Will it still be Germany, her birthplace? Or will it be some other place that she's connected with and where she's put down roots?

Will her answer eventually be, “I'm from everywhere”?

What about you? How do you answer this question? With all the moves and all the places you've called home, how do you determine where you are from?

On Becoming Me: Waiting

Six days, "they" say.  But I know full well that could mean 2 days or 10 or 20!  In the mean time, I'm spending most of my time trying to find clothes long enough to extend around my ENTIRE belly!  Well, that's not the only thing I'm doing...

I'm nesting.  Buying those cool cloth boxes from the 100 yen store and organizing cabinets. Making a first year scrapbook for my 2 year old son.  Charging cameras and video cameras.  Washing boxes of old baby clothes.  Baking and freezing casseroles for the first weeks.  Making phone lists for phone calls from the hospital.  Writing a birth plan.  

I'm resting.  Napping as much as possible.  Even in the middle of the living room while the boys run around me.

I'm hitting.  Everything in sight.  With my belly.  The front door, the refrigerator door, the bathroom stall door, the steering wheel, people I think I'm sneaking past in the BX... who I then have to apologize to for hitting WITH. MY. BELLY.  Sigh.

I'm visioning.  Picturing my perfect birth.  Playing with the possibilities.  What might happen.  When this might start.  How will things go.  How I will act and respond.

I'm worrying.  Will hubby have time to get home from work in time?  Will I be able to get a hold of Tara to get the boys?  Who will be on call at labor and delivery?  Will it be a long birth or short?

I'm enjoying.  I love being pregnant.  I love the movement of the baby inside of me.  And in a few short days (or weeks) I won't feel that anymore.  So, I'm just enjoying the kick boxer in there and memorizing this feeling.  I'm also enjoying these last days with my boys -- like a trip to the Wonder Museum yesterday (see pix).  Knowing they'll get less of my time over the next months.

Waiting is a part of life.  Some of us deal with it better than others.  Some are zen.  Some are anxious.  And everything in between.

But in this military life, we seem to have a bit more BIG waiting.  Two significant ones come to mind -- Waiting for deployments to begin and end. And waiting for orders and then to move.  

How do you handle waiting?  Do you have tricks and traditions?  Or do you just go with the flow?  What suggestions do you have for dealing with THE WAIT? 

Do tell.

Working on Becoming Me: Girl Time

I never really liked girls.  

The purses and accessories.  The Barbies.  The mood swings.  The giggling.  The boyfriend stealing.  The manipulation, whinning and caddiness.

If given a choice between a job primarily populated by women or men, I would choose the male-dominated job any day.  If I had to verbally fight with someone, I’d choose a man rather than a woman.  If I had to travel with someone... man again.  And certainly if I had to wallpaper a room...  well... actually, I’d rather just do that alone.

BUT.

They are growing on me.  Women.  Over the last few years, I’ve begun to understand that there is something I can learn and experience from my friendships with women that I can't get anywhere else.  In fact, being a spouse in the military has helped teach me that.

Jannine, Joelle, Pamela, Heather & son

At every new duty station, I’m floored by the women I meet.  How they handle the trials and difficulties of this life.  How they overcome obstacles and deal with the unexpected.  How they manage to create true homes out of thin air and thousands of miles from their original houses.  How they can be so honest and transparent when sharing their similar experiences with you.  And how they can be so fully there for someone like me who they’ve only known for a few short months.

Tara, Dasha, Larissa, Kandy, Staci, Kelly & son

And so for a traditional women-disliker, joining the OkinawaHai team was part terrifying and part exhilarating.  Initially, I only knew two of the women who were writing and they, not very well.  More recently, we’ve had some wonderful women who’ve joined the team who have been total strangers to me. 

And so last week, when we decided to head to Nago together – TEN WOMEN – I wondered what kind of estrogen hell I was in for!!!  But it turned out to be a wonderful, surprising day.  A day where I again appreciated the depth and talents and genius of women.

Over the next week, we will each share with you our part of the Northern Adventure (as we’ve come to call it).  To give you some hints... you may hear about tadpoles eating mosquito eggs, blue shisas, gorgeous vistas, near death experiences, treehouses, pizza in a yurt, toddler rock throwing contests, teepees, cute Aussies, mochi pies, car sickness and lots and lots of laughter.

I don’t often get the chance to have Girl Time.  

I think I need to make it more of a priority.

It was good for me.

Working on Becoming Me: New Orders

We’ve still got a year to go, but recently my husband received an email from his detailer (Navy speak for the person who gets you your orders) saying he should start looking at “the list.”  And as I got to thinking about my friends who are PCSing this summer, some STILL without knowing where they are going, I realized there are a LOT of different ways we all react to this whole crazy process.  These are some characters that I’ve met...

“Choosing” Orders:

1.  The Traveller:  “I can’t WAIT to see the possibilities...  maybe we could go to Europe, or somewhere else in Asia no one has ever been to before...  man, I’ve gotta get my globe out so I can imagine our new life somewhere on that sphere!!”

2.  The Homebody:  “Please, oh, please, let there be an opening at the base near Great Grandma Nan.  I don’t know what I’ll do if I have to live another minute away from home.”

3.  The Hippie:  “Wherever we go, there we will be.”

4.  The Good Spouse:  “I’ll just let him/her choose what is best for their career.”

Awaiting the Word/Official Orders:

1.  The Neurotic:  “WHERE THE  *$(#&@&  ARE THE ORDERS!!!  I can’t live like this – not knowing.  I’m making myself totally crazy!!! (and everyone around me)”

2.  The Pragmatist:  "Well, ya know, there's a lot of work that goes into generating those orders.  It just takes a while sometimes.  I'm sure they'll arrive shortly."

3.  The Yoda:  “The orders will come when right the time is.”

4.  The Oblivious One:  “What?  We need orders?  They said they want us, don’t we just go?”

Receiving Unexpected Orders:

1.  The Planner:  “WHAT????   But I’ve been researching ____________ for 3 months now.  I’ve spent countless hours online and meeting people who live there.  We HAVE to go there!  Where in the world is this other place anyway??  WHERE’s MY GLOBE????”

2.  The Processor:  “OH MY GOODNESS.   OH MY goodness.  OH my goodness. . . . . . . Oh my goodness. . . . . . . Ok. . . . . . Oh my goodness. . . . . .  Well, ok. . . . . . Oh my goodness. . .”

3.  The Adventurer:  “Hmmmm.  Well, I guess this is a chance to be somewhere different!  I didn’t even know we had a base there.  But that’s near the mountains, right?  Well, I’ve always wanted to learn to ski!”

4.  The Ostrich:  “We may be going there.  But I’m just going to pretend like we’re not.  I’m going to pretend we’re going home instead.  I’m sure that will work.”

So which one are you??  Or did I miss a character??  Tell us how you deal with this time of upheaval!!

Working on Becoming Me: Saying Goodbye

I kept her from seeing her midwife.  While she was in labor.  Course, it was my midwife too, and we were just chatting about when my overdue baby was ever going to arrive.  When I finally left her office and went down to the waiting room to meet my husband, this pretty woman breezed past me.  I cheerfully said, Hello!  And she sort of mumbled something under her breath.

As we walked down to the elevator, I said to my husband, “Wow, she wasn’t very nice.”  Brent responded with, “Joelle, she’s IN LABOR.  She’s been sitting in the waiting room timing her contractions and waiting to see her midwife!”  

Oh.

And that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

We delivered our babies three days apart and a few weeks later were officially introduced to each other.  We began getting together for play dates.  Found we had much in common including a love of healthy food, the same educational background, a common spiritual outlook, similar parenting goals, and most importantly...  we just clicked.  

I find that the more I move, the older I get, and the more I know myself, the faster I can figure out who I really like.  Who has the potential to become a friend and not just an acquaintance.  And I knew we could be real friends.

We even had them over for my husband’s famous tacos, and fantastically, our husbands actually hit it off (a wonderful feature in a friend).  And so the relationship grew.  And grew.  And more and more tacos were eaten.

And now she’s leaving.

The leaving I have learned to deal with.  Well... as well as you can deal with friends leaving.  But what I’m never very satisfied with is the actual goodbye saying.  And more specifically the token given to a good friend that attempts to indicate to them the impact their life has had on you.

Do you give another Kokeshi doll?  A sweet card?  A bulky item that they’ll wish you’d given them before they did their packout?  A final trip to Cocok’s?  A scrapbook of memories you made together?  

I’m at a loss.  What I really want to do is buy her the huge Asian cabinet she wants from Oriental Place, but that probably wouldn't fit in her suitcase.

So what do you give to PCSing friends?  What ways have you expressed yourself to those few precious people you attach yourself to at each new duty station? How do you say goodbye?

Working on Becoming Me: I'm the Mom.

About 27 things today have reminded me of the struggle I have with saying and believing those three words:  I'm the Mom....

"My daughter goes to _____, why don't you let yours?"

"You let your kids sleep in the same bed?"

"Why aren't you feeding your infant cereal yet?"

"He can't write his own name?"

"My kids have always been happy there, I'm sure yours will be, too."

"She's grounded for not doing the dishes?  Isn't that a little extreme?"

"Well, if you would keep holding them, they wouldn't cry."

"You let them jump on that trampoline with no safety net?"

And that was all from today!  Just kidding...  but all of these things were brought to mind today as I listened to a newly pregnant, first-time mom express worry over the complications and responsibilities of motherhood.  

No question it's hard, but right now it's MY job.  And I think that was one of the hardest things for me to learn as a young mom...  it was MY job, MY responsibility -- not my husband's or my mother's or my girlfriend's. 

And I've discovered the same thing is true in most areas of life.  I am also THE WIFE.  Of THIS MAN.  Not the wife of your man, or my mother's ex-husband (my dad) or my girlfriend's husband.  I am the wife of this man, which means that the way I/we do things is different than the way you will.  

And thanks for the advice.  But I'm going to make up my own mind.

I have to admit that the distance of 7000 miles can be helpful when it comes to this, because many of my "helpful" friends/family are far enough away to ignore (when necessary).  But it also means that there's a lot of me-against-the-world here.  And sometimes that is both alienating and lonely.

I do wish I had more access to wisdom.  To those older women who used to go to my churches at home and who had been through everything and back again and who could see my situation, or listen to my rants and have the most marvelous 2 sentences responses that seemed to put everything in perspective. We don't get a lot of that here.  Not a lot of people around here much older than an older brother or sister would be to me.  I miss it.

So, question for you:  How do you remind yourself you are the mom or the husband or the responsible one for your own life situation?  What do you say when offered "helpful" advice?  And how do you access wisdom from those around you?  

Working on Becoming Me: Permanence

I can’t get my ring off.  My wedding ring.  

If I didn’t live in a tropical, humid environment; if I drank more water and ingested less salt; and most importantly, if I wasn't 6 months pregnant, I probably wouldn’t be having this problem.  But I am all of those things.  

And I can’t get it off.

 

I’ve heard a number of stories during my time in this baby-making-season about women who forget to occasionally check their rings.  Who forget that pregnancy generally carries with it some unwanted swelling.  And who subsequently find themselves in the ER having their wedding rings cut off before they cause circulation to their finger to be compromised.

I always thought those women where so silly.  Who would forget to check something like that?

Consciously or subconsciously, I forgot.  Maybe I just didn’t want the day to arrive when I had to remove it again (as with my other pregnancies).  There is just so very, very, VERY little in our military life that is permanent.  And unfortunately for some families around me, even their marriages are transient.

I’m one of those weird ones who loves that we’ve gotten to live in a lot of different places.  
Who is happy moving every three years and figuring out a new city and a new way of life.  I enjoy making a new place for myself and my family.  It’s kind of a kick.

But I can see the draw of permanence.  I can feel the pull to living in a town where everyone knows your name.  Where people have known you long enough to care about where your kids are or maybe where they shouldn’t be.  Where friendships blossom beyond the first blush of “ooooh, I like her” into the kind of dependence that supports you through even the most difficult times.  Where seasons fall into a rhythm rather than always being a bit of a surprise or “was it really like this last year?” experience.

Though it obviously needs to be resized, I do plan to wear this ring for the rest of my life.  

So how do you resize, reform, redo the things in your life to create a sense (real or imagined) of permanence in your transient life?  For yourself?  For your family?  In what areas of life do you most miss permanence?  Or are you doing ok without it at the moment?

Do tell.