Melissa's Un-Military Moment

Before we finish with PLDC we're going to take a trip back in time---waay back in time because a part of my childhood changed who I was and who I would be --and its directly related to my service in the Army and more so, to something that happened at PLDC.  So please be patient as we take a un-military step back in time.

I was 9 years old when my parents divorced, 10 when my father remarried.  It was a drastic change to my life, drastic and it wasn't just about my Dad not living with us but everything in my life changed.  We had to move because my mother couldn't afford to stay where we lived so we got a small apartment in a less desirable part of town.  My Dad was gone.  My Mom was gone too because now instead of being a stay-home Mom she had to work full-time.  I changed schools and lost all of my friends.   I saw my grandparents and extended family much less because the only extended family I had growing up was my Dad's family and since we were no longer one family unit with Dad, I wasn't with my grandparents and family as much has I had been.  Our financial status changed so we had less things and when I say things I certainly don't mean toys and luxury items --I mean we struggled for even the basic necessities.

I remember my Mom telling me to eat a good lunch at school because there wasn't going to be much for dinner.  I remember having a dinners that consisted of Spam, boxed Mac and Cheese and maybe a side vegetable.  I remember our utilities sometimes being turned off because my Mom was unable to pay the bills.  I remember desperately needing shoes or a clothing item and being afraid to ask my Mom for it because I knew not only that she couldn't afford it but because she'd also worry about it and feel badly for not being able to provide it for me.  I remember my Mom telling me I should ask my father for things too--and when I did he'd tell me, "That's what I pay child support for."  I remember my Mother sitting at our kitchen table with her check book, a pile of bills, a calculator and a lot of tears.  I remember being home alone with my sisters a lot because my Mother had to work and sometimes she'd be working three jobs at a time; her full-time job, a part-time job at night and cleaning houses on the weekends and despite all of that, she still cooked our dinners, cleaned our home and did our laundry all the while, trying to stay as involved in our lives as she possible could.

But there are only so many hours in a day, you know --and something had to give and so while my Mother was out trying to support herself and her children, me and my sisters were left on our own.  And we were alone quite frankly --more than any children our age should have been.  My Mother was not neglectful, mind you, she was an excellent Mother but there was one of her, three of us and a pile of bills to pay.  My Mother operated on survival mode --we all operated on survival mode.

And my dad was not a bad father.  He made choices that he felt he needed to make and he moved on with his life --but he did not leave us behind.  My father was faithful to pay child support even before there was such thing as child support enforcement.  My father was faithful to keep all of his visitation and even fought for it, demanded it --

But despite the fact that under the circumstances my parents were doing the best that they could to raise us, my father wasn't in my daily life and for that matter, my mother barely was either.

And that left me afraid.  I was afraid all of the time.  I worried about things a young girl should have no mind to think about.  I worried about finances.  I worried about being safe because no one was home to protect us.  I worried about my sisters getting hurt and I wouldn't know what to do.  I worried about my mother becoming ill or injured and who would care for her.  Sometimes on my way home from school I would wonder if a utility had been shut off.  I tried not to dirty my clothes so I could wear them twice so there was less expense of my mother having to do laundry (coin operated in our apartment building).  I worried about my Mom a lot because she worked so much, worried so much, hurt so much --

She had no one--her Mother lived in Puerto Rico and her siblings were all over the place and all of them were far worse off than we were.  My Mother worked so hard and she refused to go on public assistance.  We never had welfare or food stamps and my Mom would say, "We can get along without it, that money needs to go to someone that needs it more than we do."

The point is, I never felt safe or protected.  I guarded my heart and kept all of my insecurities and fears inside because my dad wasn't there and my Mother had too much else to worry about.  So I kept those things private to myself--and it made me a very guarded little girl --it was hard for me to trust people and it was nearly impossible for me to share my feelings with anyone.  I always felt so alone -even when I was with my family I felt alone.

And that is who I was when I went into the Army --in many ways, emotionally I was still that scared insecure little girl.  My heart was guarded --it was locked up tight and what I longed for more than anything else in the world --more than being loved, I longed to feel safe, protected and cared for.