You know what's awesome? Six months after a book release (is it that long ago? time, she flies), still getting awesome, heartfelt, butter-melting letters from readers.
I've always felt like a freak, even when I wasn't cultivating Teh Freakness as a style and lifestyle, and publishing this book about being a Misfit Army Wife was no different. I shuffled the book off to the publisher with my usual "No one will ever understaaaand me" Emo 'tude. Let's face it, I'm no star pupil: I don't follow orders unless I approve them first; I automatically give side-eyes to people who decorate stuff with eagles; I have friends who exchange greetings with me like, "What's up, hooker?" and "Wow, if I'd known that's what you look like, I'd have booked two hours!" and it's incredibly difficult for me to sit through a sedate and dignified retirement or promotion ceremony without yelling "FREEBIRD!" from the back of the room.
(Mom, stop reading my blog...Think of your heart.)
You know those "Spouse of the Year" awards they give out? Yeah, funny, but my name never came up.
And you know what? There are plenty of people who assert that I've done it all wrong. That I've failed my husband, my marriage, my Army, my country. Oh, and my gender. Don't forget that. All of womanity rests on my strangely broad, but ultimately, failed Viking shoulders. Also? One should be married to a soldier for 80 years before writing a book about being a mil.wife. Um, thanks for sharing? I'll do it better next time? Is this the part where I apologize? Underneath it all, I am a people-pleaser so darn it, let's just get it out now: I'M SORRY I FAILED.
But still, I love the military, or more accurately, I love the amazing, inspiring people that the military has brought into my life. It is a diverse, colorful, crazy-making, heart-thumping, emotionally stimulating, and pride-thickening population. And so many women (and men) have written to tell me that they feel the same way I feel: the confusion, the frustration, the delight, the claustrophobia, the pride, and the love. I've gotten a flood of sympathetic emails, and I'm so grateful--not just to be read, but to be understood.
I AM UNDERSTOOOOOOOOOD. I need to stand on a chair and yell this: I! AM! UNDERSTOOD!
I know I am not alone. To the tune of hundreds of letters, I know it for real. My favorite stories of solidarity are from a woman who recalled the days when wives were warned that they could NOT wear curlers to the commissary (really? y'all tried to do that?), and another wife who made public her pleas for better military family care and found out that one wife said to another, "She sounds angry."
So, to all of you, thanks a million for taking the time to write. It is my pleasure to (slowly) correspond with you all. Don't hesitate to let a writer know that they struck a chord in you, because however much their book has done for you, you can easily double it to estimate how much your thanks does for them.
Never underestimate the healing power of "Me, too!"
Below: Rare photo of me in my Household 6 costume @ West Point's Pershing Room. Hooah.