"Right after that, I’m sitting there wondering what the hell am I gonna do; the sand dune is about three feet high, and I’m sitting against it. It gave you protection from small arms fire, but not from mortars. So I’m crouched up there, shaking, cold, freezing to death, you’re soaking wet, wondering what the hell, what’s going on? What happened to our plan? Trying to make some reason out of this chaos. And all I could see was chaos, catastrophe. Boats burning, smoking, dead men all along the water’s edge, floating bodies. Craft getting hit. It was awful, awful, awful. I said, "Oh, Jesus, something’s not going right here." And during that time this guy goes staggering along about fifty, sixty yards from me, staggering, I don’t know how the hell he was walking. His backpack was hanging down his back, his clothes were in shreds, one arm dangled, it must have been hit. And he looked towards me, I don’t know why but somehow he looked back towards me and half his face was gone. And something said, "I know that guy." It was his stature, his walk, something about him. I said, "I know that guy." (Source: http://www.tankbooks.com/stories/omaha.htm )
It has been a while since I last updated my blog, a long while as a matter of fact. I chose to start this blog with part of a story describing what happened on Omaha Beach on D-Day. The main reason is that the story is about hopelessness, and about being put in a terrible situation that seems to have no chance of a positive outcome. But, on the other hand, it also shows human resilience, courage, and kindness. Right now I am finding myself on my own private Omaha Beach, the situation is by no means as dire as the one described by Chuck Hurlbut, but in many ways I do find myself resting against a sand dune trying to gather my thoughts, and the strength to move on. The first three months of 2012 have been eventful to say the least. I started the year off feeling really depressed and anxious, for the longest time I had had trouble eating, and found a strange comfort in not eating. Life was painful, and I felt that I no longer had control over anything. I knew that I was hurting myself by not eating, but I didn't care, I thought that by choosing not to eat, at least I had a little bit of control. In early January I also managed to burn myself on a cup of boiling tea water, it left me with a nasty blister and scar. It was one of those, crap this sucks moments. I will have the scar to remember it by for the rest of my life.
January, however, was not all bad, I went on a trip to California to visit a dear friend in LA. I had some wonderful travel companions, and I had a great time. It was the first time in probably five years that Tom and I spent a night apart. I felt confident and comfortable being with my friends, and having them help me out as needed, I am so thankful to have them all in my life. Tom felt good about the trip as well, he was actually instrumental in me going, I tried to get out of going, but he was persistent, and even bought the tickets etc. I am so happy he was, I regained some freedom I thought was lost forever. There is freedom in friendship and in love....
We also celebrated our Copper Anniversary in January. Most of you probably have no idea what a Copper Anniversary is, but to those of you who don't know, Copper Anniversary is a celebration of 12 1/2 years of marriage. When explaining it to people, I usually say that Danes will use any excuse to eat. drink, and be merry. I wasn't expecting anything, nor did I plan anything for the anniversary, but Tom had! He surprised me with a trip to Orlando where we were going to stay in a bed and breakfast, and attend a George Strait/Martina McBride concert. It was a freezing cold night, but we had a wonderful time just spending time together, we don't do that enough. It was a weekend where we sat up against a sand dune, somewhat safe, but with mortars flying all around us.
Shortly after going to the concert I decided to ask for help with my eating disorder, depression, and anxiety. On February 16th I was checked in at an eating disorder clinic at Shands in Gainesville. I spent nearly six weeks there, and got home this past Monday. Being at Shands was both the easiest and the hardest job I have ever had to do. The easiest because I had no choice but to do what I was told, the hardest because I gave up all control and every day I had to do things I did not want to do. I had to eat the food I was served or be given Ensure to drink to make up for it. I had to attend group therapy sessions that were both helpful and painful. I had to spend 14 hours a day in a small room surrounded by people I had not chosen to be around. There are some stories to be told about my experiences at Shands, but they are better told at a different point in time. I left Shands a stronger (and a little bit bigger) person, I learned some skills and acquired some tools that hopefully will help me stay on the right path. I am by no means healthy yet, there is a long way to go, but I am sticking to my meal plan, I have become more assertive, and most of all, I have regained my desire to live.
My desire to live and to have a good life, came about during a tragedy. Yes, tragedy...... My youngest brother, Jesper, passed away from complications with a drain in his head that was supposed to keep water from accumulating on his brain due to hydrocephalus (http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0002538/). The drain malfunctioned, and the surgery to correct it failed to do so, and the pressure built up, and he finally passed away in his sleep on Monday. It is still very surreal to me to know that he is gone, he was an amazing person, and even though his death seems meaningless, I will not allow it to be. Jesper was a strong person that we all should learn from, life definitely threw its shares of mortars at him, and his entire life he was on Omaha Beach dodging shells and mortars, every so often he would sit with his back against a sand dune, and even though he felt safe, the rest of us always saw the war going on all around him. Jesper never gave up, he was full of life, and happiness, he was a true warrior.
However painful his death is, and trust me, it hurts, I decided that his memory is to important for me, I cannot disappoint him. He showed me the way, and even when wounded he kept crawling until death finally took him away to a better place. I too must keep crawling, my MD will always be here as will my struggles with depression and anxiety, but no one will benefit from me hitting the pause button while waiting for the mortars to come and get me. They will get me no matter what I do, and living is much better than just waiting. All I can do is just to embrace the safety of the occasional sand dune or the comfort of
the cliff.
"I made it to this congregation, and there was quite a bunch of guys there. Now the sand dune has petered out to nothing, but some big cliffs have taken over. It’s the far western end of the beach. Omaha Beach just sort of abruptly ends, and these cliffs come right down to the water. For that little section there, these cliffs were giving quite a bit of safety. And there were hundreds of guys crowded behind it. Some were bandaged, some were wounded, some with their arm in a sling. But they were all dazed, confused. Some didn’t have helmets. Some didn’t have rifles. You couldn’t imagine, these are American soldiers who a few hours ago were full of spirit and energy and here they are so disarrayed and astonished and stunned they didn’t know what the hell they were doing. And in the flat area there were dozens and dozens and dozens of stretchers. It was a pickup aid station. And it seemed like every third guy on a stretcher was one of my buddies, and I said, "Well, that’s why I couldn’t find anybody back there. They’re all down here; they’ve all been wounded." (http://www.tankbooks.com/stories/omaha.htm)
Yesterday I once again managed to burn my hand on boiling water, according to Tom I am done playing with the tea kettle for a while, I think I just need to figure out a different way of pouring water on my tea bags, after all I love tea, and cannot give that up just because I got wounded by a bullet. I will have a new scar to remember it by, and I have to keep moving, I have to remember the stories of Omaha Beach. Stories of courage, resilience, and survival. RIP Jesper until I see you again. Heaven is lucky to have you, and I know you are enjoying the company of farfar and morfar, you might even start to drink flueoel, afterall, they go well with card games and hotdogs.
I love you!
"You who have made me see many troubles and calamities will revive me again; from the depths of the earth you will bring me up again. You will increase my greatness and comfort me again." ~Psalms 71:20-21
Peace
P
Contact email keepinghopejourney@gmail.com
