"Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes" - David Bowie (58th Post)

All too soon, like an unwanted houseguest, the day arrived for Rick to travel to boot camp. SIGH. (Dear Reader, see the previous post.) His father, oldest sister, and I made up the “good-bye-road-trip-escort committee” to drive Rick to his assigned military base. As usual, the undiagnosed TBI symptom, anosognosia, and my dysfunctional family legacy haunted me during the drive. I had wrestled with feelings of uncertainty and awkwardness as to how I had been coming across. And those symptoms also made me fret about not having Rick present for the drive home. However, I had relied on my default coping skill, which was to pretend to act as if I was comfortable and at ease. I really did like his family. They had not been the problem. The problem had been, due to TBI I could not perceive myself accurately, and I had been still trying to learn how to act around a family that “actually” liked me. Rick’s family had been a sharp contrast to my family - with the exception of my younger sister - they had shown little interest in me. Yes, these undiagnosed symptoms had been high on my list to “solve the puzzle of me.” 

 To our surprise and dismay, once we had arrived at the military base, our escort committee had been directed to say our farewells to Rick at the gate. There would be no tour of the base. Resigned and disappointed, we each had a private moment to say our goodbyes to Rick. We had been allowed, though, to watch him walk away till he had no longer been in sight. During the ride home we had chatted - I had hoped - amicably, had discussed our feeling about this separation, and our fears concerning his assignment after boot camp. Our conversation had also been peppered with moments of silence. It had been apparent we had been lost in our own thoughts. 

The next day I returned to college. Rick had made good on his promise to stay in touch. There had been frequent letters between us. Due to the training policies, Rick had few opportunities for phone calls. In addition to the complication of Ricks’ military status, another challenging mission had interrupted my routine college life. 

My parents had contacted me to discuss an unforeseen and unwanted request. I had saved money and had a job on campus. My parents and I had been paying for my college education. My parents had informed me the out-of-state tuition for the next year would be outside their means. They had stated they would only continue to assist with the education if I left Massachusetts, returned to Virginia, and attended a state-funded school. What!!!!????!!!! ….had been my “inner freaked out response.”

I had been devastated by this sudden update. I had fallen in love with my campus, my dormitory friends, my fantastic roommate and her family, and the New England area. And, I had not EVER wanted to return to Virginia. However, reason trumped my emotions. I had been working part or full-time since age 12. Consequently, I learned of the power and value of money, but also the burden of debt. Returning and attending a state school had been the only viable solution. I had also been upset my parents had not discussed this new development with me sooner as I now had a small window of time to complete and send out college applications. UGH. 

Sometimes -the good thing about panic - is it had made me hustle. The challenging thing about the undiagnosed TBI had been any sudden or new project had led to feelings of being overwhelmed and stagnation. It had just been dumb luck, concerning the college application mission, that my limbic system went wild with panic and muted the overwhelming feelings. I had been able to do a deep dive into the application process. And, being that I had now been halfway through my first year in college. I had felt it was foolhardy to apply only to my “chosen ones” - I had applied to them all. 

A month later, in the midst of my panic attacks and grieving the idea of leaving everything I loved, something ironic happened to actually assist my undiagnosed TBI and feelings of loss. My beloved roommate informed me her parents had contacted her with the exact same message my parents had delivered to me a month before. She too needed to return home due to the out-of-state tuition. What had been the odds on that!!!???!!  She too, had jumped into the process of applying to an in-state school in UpState New York. The ONLY upside of all this is I discovered misery REALLY does like company!  My roomie and I had now been able to commiserate with each other and had really dived in and enjoyed our remaining time together. One restless night, my yappy brain, which had been keeping me awake, had realized, for both me and my Rick, our lives suddenly went in very different directions than we had planned. We both were now in situations we had not planned and had not wanted. Yep, for sure, misery loves company. Where was my kismet when I needed her? I guess Kismet had been no match for situations that “others” had placed Rick and myself in. Or as David Bowie sang - “Cha-Cha-Changes.”

The constant anxiety of “would I be accepted” by a college in Virginia, and whether would Rick be sent to serve in Vietnam had fueled my alcohol and other drug use. I had found drugs took the edge off, and they had also been a way to run away, yet stay in place. I had been able to create some pretty functional solutions to the challenges of the undiagnosed TBI. However, for the dysfunctional family legacy, and undiagnosed PTSD I had been clueless about solutions for problems I did not even know or understand I had. Consequently, I had very few healthy coping skills to deal with the college applications and the relationship with Rick. The only coping skill I had relied on had been alcohol and other drugs.

Between the two of us, Rick certainly had the bigger issue to contend with. His military placement had been a HUGE issue plaguing my world and my heart with no relief yet in sight. A question had now taken up permanent residence in my mind. Would he or would he not be deployed to the Vietnam War?!  One thing I knew for certain, I never wanted to experience hearing the words KIA - killed in action or MIA - missing in action. No indeed, my heart never had wanted to learn that about Rick.