So you tried something that didn't work

"I'm so tired. The neighbor guy was up at 2 am screaming at someone on the phone."

"I'm sorry, babe. Base housing sucks."

Sure does, I thought. I jumped on Zillow to see if there was anything in beautiful, ridiculously expensive Southern California that we could afford where we might not have to listen to the nuances of the neighbor's latest failed relationship. No dice.

"It's too bad we aren't in Oklahoma. We could afford an amazing place there."
Geobaching as it's called is fairly common in the military community. One person in a marriage has a short time left on their military contract and the rest of the family is ready for anything that seems even the smallest bit more stable. Dad hangs back on base living in geo bachelor barracks and everyone else heads to the final destination. Ready to get their "real lives" started. I know in the civilian world this might seem completely insane, but it works for thousands of military families. In a world where unaccompanied orders for a year or two to Japan is commonplace, it's not so far fetched. I'd spent the last five years away from my family, any semblance of ability to go after my divine purpose because of a lack of local support, and the idea of heading "home" sounded magical. I was working as a doula and loving my work but also failing to set boundaries about how much I was working, how much sleep I was getting, and how much we were willing for our family life to suffer. Because doula work wasn't my life's purpose, burn out was approaching rapidly. The idea that we could buy a beautiful house on two acres when our kids currently had a concrete pad for a back yard was captivating. I was making good money as a doula and the idea that I could help my husband purchase this home with money I had made on my own after many years as a stay at home mom was even more alluring. I grew up in a trailer park. My mom was a loan officer who helped others reach their dreams of home ownership but it was always just a little too far away for us. I had the opportunity to be a homeowner at 26 years old. We dreamed of chickens and a cow. Going to church every Sunday. Seeing my grandparents often. We weren't in complete denial and knew we'd miss each other. A lot. But it seemed short term doable for a long term benefit. In the middle of the home purchase process a deployment came into the picture for right around our move date and it seemed like a sign that we were doing the right thing. True to life though, that deployment was pushed back half a year and we found out we were expecting our fifth baby. Now not only were we going to be living separately, but I was going to be pregnant, and Will was going to miss the birth while on this new deployment timeline. We tried to make the best of it. Traveling for Thanksgiving and Christmas to see each other, lots of FaceTime and phone calls. The kids were in an amazing school and I was working at WIC, doing something I enjoyed and felt made a difference. I got to see my grandparents more often, though my dreams of being helpful to them were massively diminished by my own responsibilities to my family. We were all miserable. I missed my husband, my kids missed their Dad, and by December, any notion that this had been a good idea or was working was gone. I was too scared to do anything differently and I went through most days in a trance. Getting done what needed to be done. Certainly no joy. After a tearful midnight conversation my laid back, never asks for anything husband asked if I would figure out a way to get back there. We knew the deployment was coming, of course. That we'd move back and deal with a heck of a lot of stress in doing so and that he'd be leaving a few months later. But I knew we needed to feel like a family unit again. That I needed to create a space where he left from for him to come home to. I was shaking as I called a management company to see about renting our house out. I had no idea how to rent out a house. Having a rental was never on our to do list, and to be honest, I still hate it. Even worse, I felt a deep shame. I felt like everyone in the world knew that this was a bad idea from the get go and that we had been idiots to think it may work and that everyone I knew was going to be whispering behind my back about what a dumb choice it was. But my families needs were more important. We'd already planned a Christmas trip out to California and we returned right around the new year. I got on the plane lethargic and hot with a fever. Two days later I was diagnosed with flu. With the help of some amazing friends I managed to get our house packed up and moved into storage so that our new tenants could move in. I was sick, both from the flu and first trimester sickness, and sad. It was one of the hardest times of my life. Worse than all of it though was still the shame I felt from having made a mistake. From uprooting my children and switching their schools and letting them spend time with family back "home" and then taking it away again. I'd never do anything purposely to hurt my children. I make the best decisions I can with the resources I have at the time, but I'm not a perfect parent. That's a hard reality to face, but it's true for all of us. My kids are resilient as hell and I firmly believe that good people are made through adversity. Still, I felt like the world's biggest jerk. I never second guessed whether this corrective action was the right one, though. I knew it was. We returned to California and by the grace of the universe/God got into base housing again. The irony is not lost on me. When I hear the neighbor fighting with his mother in law or our dogs are going crazy across the fence because of their dogs, I give a little smile. I'm thankful. We are together.

So if you tried something that didn't work, I have news for you. Me too. I made a mistake. A wrong choice. I have some more news for you. The world did not end. We lived with the consequences. I dealt with a thousands of dollars plumbing issue at that rent house three days after giving birth without my husband. The consequences of the wrong choices don't go away. But we weren't eaten by wolves. The world did not end like my brain tried to tell me it would while we were in the middle of it all.  People may whisper, or they may shout. It doesn't matter. Usually, the people shouting the loudest have made their fair share of wrong choices, too. Maybe you are reading this while trying to decide about a big change. Maybe you've already made that big change and realized it wasn't the right change to make. Maybe you are terrified about what outsiders are saying about your change. Shame can only exist when we aren't open with what we are feeling shameful about, so find someone you trust and let it out. In a world that seems to expect perfection, I'm here to tell you that it doesn't exist. And when we live in such fear of making the wrong choice that we paralyze our lives with indecision and shame, we lose out on some amazing experiences.
Mistakes are part of life. I'm thankful to be able to make them.

Photo by Laura Lynn Photography