A.K.A. Man tries to write a blog
G’day MiPas and readers, Man here, writing to you from the sanity-reducing confines of a quarantined hotel room prison cell. More on that later.
Isn’t my lovely lady something else? I’ve been reading her blogs with a smile on my face and it’s really helped me understand her side of things. But enough about that, her writing speaks for itself – you wouldn’t be reading this if you didn’t already agree with me. I’ve been intending to write a guest post on here for some time now. As a serial over-thinker, that has led to more than one session of writing lists of what to write, drafts of how to structure it and a recycle bin overflowing with rejected digital paper scraps. Between you and me, that hasn’t gotten me any closer to finishing the thing so I’m trying a different tactic – a plucky, ‘can do’ attitude and some liquid courage! So, without further ado, strap in for a wild ride through my unstructured ramblings.
I’ve been in Australia for approximately 12 hours now, I’ve drunk my first sips of booze in a hellova long time (Balvenie DoubleWood for anyone playing at home), my buzz is on, I’ve seen enough sand to last a lifetime, and I’m here to talk about deployments.
Let me start out by saying five months is a bloody long time. Some people deploy for a lot longer and I take my hat off to them. After five months in the desert I feel like a cheap steak: dry, overcooked and a husk of my former self. If it wasn’t for my MiPa cheering me on back home I reckon it would have been a hell of a lot worse. That said, I don’t think the length of time matters too much – I suspect it would have been just as tough if it was three months or 10 months. More on that later.
Leading up to deployment last year, I did what I do best and compartmentalised the entire situation. My poor MiPa was worried about it for months in advance – she had every right to be. Me though, I just plodded along as though life was normal and going away wasn’t really a thing. That worked fine for me until maybe two or three weeks before departure. At the time I THOUGHT I was fine. I mean sure, we fought a lot - and we NEVER fight - and sure, I got agitated way easier than normal, but that didn’t mean I was worried about being away from home for half a year. I’m a cool, tough military guy, right? In retrospect, that sounds a whole lot like denial. Note to future self: you are excellent at lying to yourself – defer to MiPa for all future self-evaluations.
So in short, the lead up was tense but manageable. Getting into theatre though, that was a hell of a thing. Nothing really prepares you for the first time you are dropped into a position in which people depend on you for the safety of their lives, certainly not a whirlwind week-long handover followed by a pat on the back and good-natured thumbs up! You might be thinking ‘oh dear, how awful’ but it is actually worse than that. I liked it. A lot. And with that great enjoyment came a whole truck load of guilt. I shouldn’t be allowed to enjoy myself over here should I? The love of my life is a million miles away. I should be serving my country – with all the undertones of sacrifice that statement carries. The first month or so didn’t feel like sacrifice. It felt like I was born to be there. So there was my MiPa home alone and I was loving life. Cue sleepless nights and self-flagellation.
Eventually, I settled into the job, developed a rhythm, and backed down from the highly alert state of mind I started in. Things became normal. And that’s when the thoughts of home started creeping in. My MiPa went through some really tough times. Great times too of course, but there were challenges. Read her blog posts if you don’t know what I’m on about – it’s her story to tell, and she is a better writer than me by far. You’ll enjoy it. Trust me. How did you even find this post without having already read them? The mind boggles. Anyway, I digress. Where was I – ah yep, creeping thoughts of missing home. Once the shine of the new job and new location wears off, you are quickly left with a bare room on a bare base in a frankly bloody bare country. Mundane is an appropriate word, monotonous is probably better.
It was around about this time that the stupid thoughts started creeping in. My MiPa would have a bad day. What a great opportunity, my inner monologue would think, to highlight how easy she has it and what a tough life I am living over here. Oh woe is me and my tragic service to my country (remember a few paragraphs ago how I was feeling guilty for loving life over there? The mind is a treacherous thing – never trust it). I’m here to tell you right now folks, if you have had those thoughts as a serving member, and you HAVEN’T jumped up on down on them until they stopped twitching, you done fucked up. Yeah, life is tough when you are deployed. But life is tough for all parties to a relationship when that life is disrupted. How did I work this out? Well for starters, I tried a little bit of the old ‘putting yourself in their shoes’. Would I have preferred to be at home, alone, isolated from everyone and having to run an entire household alone while MY partner was on the other side of the world doing fascinating things? Absolutely not. I can barely ensure that both my laundry AND the dishes are done regularly enough to afford myself a decently clothed and well-appointed dinner table. Different struggles – but ultimately everyone is struggling during these experiences, and both parties’ feelings are legit. So, we’ve arrived, freaked out, settled in, and started feeling sorry for ourselves. Nice work buddy, you have proven yourself to be human. By which I mean to say, all these feelings I’m describing are totally fine, normal and part of the condition by which we exist. I’m going to bitch about them, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t feel them if you find yourself in a similar position.
Next comes a special little gift called COVID-19. You don’t realise how much you need simple touch – a handshake, a brief hug, a firm, manly slap on the back – to feel connected to other humans until you aren’t allowed ANYTHING. Like, not even a quiet
conversation. Nothing breaks the mood of two people having a friendly chat like an apoplectic warrant officer screaming ONE POINT FIVE MEEEE-TTAAHHHS (that’s one point five mee-taahs SIR thank you) at you from across the camp because you made the god awful mistake of leaning a bit too close to talk to a mate….
Yep, that lack of normal, every day human contact really hammered home how much I missed the very presence of having my Mipa around me. It was isolating.
Another hidden 'benefit' to COVID-19 is the perpetual waiting… followed by acceptance that you will grow old and die in this hell hole. Yep, just when I thought things had really hit the bottom, a global pandemic decides to really mess things up and take away all reasonable methods of passing the time. My ‘terribly difficult deployment’ (it really wasn’t) just became so much harder – no more trips off base, no more eating in the mess, no more being able to hang out in groups. It doesn’t sound like much, but when you don’t have a lot of luxuries, the small ones really hurt when they are taken away. Side note, when it has been 4 months since another human has touched you, you will be amazed at how intimate it is to have a nurse grab you by the face a jam a swab down your nasal cavity… just saying.
I’ll fast forward through the rest. It’s a mix of ranting about how tough deployment is and how much I enjoyed it. If I’m being honest, this post has already taken me two days and a bottle of scotch to put together. There was a point I was trying to make – what was it? Oh yeah, I wanted to take this opportunity to highlight a few things. First, the MiPas back home do a hell of a job. If you are a MiPa, thank you. You may not realise it, but you provide a solid foundation for us to be able to go out and do what we do. I couldn’t have done what I did as well as I did it if not for mine. Second, if you are a serving member, thank your damned MiPa. Shame on you for not already having done so. If you think they don’t understand your hardships, you’re probably right. Have you tried explaining it to them? I bet you don’t understand theirs either. Talk it out – you’ll realise you both had damn tough times of your own. You aren’t adversaries, you are a team. If this deployment taught me anything, it is that I am a better man for communicating openly with my amazing partner.
So that’s my rant on how awesome my beautiful MiPa is. Which leaves me with one last thing to muse on. This time dilation stuff from way back in paragraph four. The deployment went super quick. It also dragged on forever. One thing that really struck me though, was that I didn’t mind so long as the end seemed either A) far away or B) non-existent (thank you constant pandemic-induced extensions). Before I left, it was going to be a 3.5 month trip. That seemed daunting, but once I got over there and settled into work, once my MiPa got on her feet and embraced her newfound freedom and independence, it all seemed fine. Around the halfway mark I was told I would be extended indefinitely. Shocking right? But not as scary as you’d think. Something inside just switched me into survival mode and I dealt with it. It wasn’t until I was given an actual home date, and that day came close, that I started to struggle. I think it was around two weeks from going home when I started to get irritable, short tempered and generally a pain in the arse to be around. And the funny thing is, EVERYONE seems to do it. I have watched people on two-month rotations fall apart in the last two weeks, as well as people who had held it together for 8 months before that fortnight period. The takeaway for me is that the mind is tricky, so don’t let it put undue stress on you. It’s like when you need to take a pee – you know you really need it, but it only gets truly urgent a few steps from the toilet (don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean….).
Anyway, this rambling mess has been brought to you by Man, currently locked in a room for two weeks due to being a potential filthy COVID carrier. The view is boring, but I get a daily walk in the prison yard, complete with police escort!
Seeya!