transition
It’s been a hot minute since I’ve made a post. And it’s not due to a lack of worthy content – quite the opposite. Enough has transpired since Dylan’s basic training graduation for worthy writing content, but it’s been more of a lack of want to put the keystrokes in to actually express it. I always bring myself back to what I promised myself when I started blogging – to be honest and transparent.
I had planned to write about ‘Pride’ as my next topic, but I feel like how the heck could I write about that? I realized it was remarkably simple – I was THE proudest I had ever been of Dylan (of any human being to be honest). Period. I’m not sure if I could ever put the sense of pride I experienced that day appropriately into written words, so I’ll leave it at that. At least for now.
After graduation, Dylan successfully transitioned from South Carolina to his new base in Richmond, Virginia for his AIT program (Advanced Individual Training); more simply, his job training. His mechanics program was 14 weeks, in which after completion he would quickly transition to his duty station in Germany, where he would finish out the remaining 3 years of his contract. Dylan chose Germany when he negotiated his contract. Out of the location options he had to choose from, he was super excited about the cultural and travel opportunities Europe would offer him at this stage of his young life.
As with any transition comes expected, and unexpected, struggles. The expected: Dylan again had to leave behind a new group of friends, a certain set of expectations, the simple comfort in the routines, though brutal, basic training offered; all for new leadership, new rules, a new bedroom, new roommates, and a new schedule, among other things. The good news is when we left him at AIT, the family goodbye was much easier than expected. He was fueled by relief, confidence, and well-earned pride of just completing basic training, while at the same time excited about the next phase he was entering. The hardest part was behind him. Not to mention, he would now be more connected to his outside world – he’d have access to his cell phone every day (not all day), but he could connect more regularly with family and friends.
The unexpected, and here’s the twist: MOM was apparently going to be assigned as resident therapist (I’m dubbing it thera-mom) and be forced to exercise every parental muscle I never knew I had.
What’s interesting about this next phase is I felt like it existed in two totally different realities. On one hand, we would chat on the phone and hear about how he was excelling in his classes and all the amazing skills he was learning in such a short amount of time. He was adjusting to the changes and expectations at the new base, making new friends, all that good stuff. But on the flip side, the gravity of the decision he had made about joining the Army, and what he was now realizing he left behind, was starting to creep in. Sure, he had experienced doubt and insecurities from the beginning, but this felt different, heavy. This is where in the other hand, this mama was about to be holding, comparatively, a 200-pound kettle bell.
I don’t discount that re-connecting with the people in his world, not to mention social media, had a ton to do with his state of mind – he could now spend more time scrolling platforms when he had designated free time, seeing what his friends back home and at college were experiencing - without him. Same with family. If we were on a weekend trip, he wasn’t with us. He could see my Instagram stories. It’s suddenly interesting to look back at my own experience of leaving home and wonder how the social media phenomenon may have affected me as a 20-year-old female, leaving everything I had ever known. Sure, we all went our own ways after high school/college, but outside of maybe a letter, postcard, or a phone call every now and then, I never had a front row seat into what anyone was doing on a daily basis in their new life. Phone calls consisted of usual verbal pleasantries, which, to me, seem far less punishing than what social media generally puts us through. Dylan was certainly bombarded with instant and constant visuals of his high school besties at college frat parties, posing happily on the beach, being together, celebrating special moments, whatever the occasion. All while he was still under a decent level of control in the Army. Of course, he was happy to see his friends living their best life, thankful to still be connected to them vs. the alternative of no connection, but I’d be foolish to think that this didn’t affect his delicate mindset.
Back to the unexpected, and my newly appointed title of thera-mom.
A few weeks into AIT, the second reality started unfolding and Dylan was starting to open up to me via text about his struggles. It wasn’t constant, but it was becoming more frequent than before. Usually it had something to do with the constant inconsistencies in Army procedures, or with poor leadership and communication, but over time it involved into more consistent doubt about the choice he made. He felt his commitment to the military was not valued, and he was not valued as a person, much less treated like one. Demoralization, disrespect, unkindness, untruths – all frequent occurrences. I wasn’t there first-hand to experience anything with my own eyes, but it’s disheartening to think that our military are not treated better.
As the end of the 14 weeks neared, what should have been a happy time of him graduating and finishing this phase, just wasn’t. Dylan had applied for what’s called hometown recruiting – a program where after trainees finish AIT, they are allowed to come home (at soldier’s expense), and work in their hometown recruiting office for 2 weeks before they leave for their duty station. He would get the best of both worlds – he’d get to work some, and then spend the rest of the time with family and friends. They had also been told at the start of their training that in order to get approved, you had to perform in the top of your class and excel in the academic program, which he absolutely accomplished. He graded 6th out of 45 students, so was beyond excited for this reward. He had worked extremely hard to earn it!
Everything he had been told up to this point was a go, but last minute, it didn’t happen. He was completely crushed, defeated, furious even. And the worst part, there was no other explanation except that someone just didn’t file the paperwork. And not by an honest mistake – just out of spite. The other downside is that for whatever internal reasons, everyone’s orders were delayed. Classes before them were still “holding over” on base, just waiting on next steps. To Dylan, the thought of just sitting on base twiddling his thumbs, just didn’t make sense if he was going to be holding over for some unknown amount of time.
Luckily, with some thera-mom advice and that age-old saying of “squeaky wheel gets the grease”, he was able to talk to different leadership and come home for the two-week recruiting assignment. Nothing like over-paying for a round trip flight from east/west coast with 3 days notice. But the money didn’t matter, it was wonderful to have him home and enjoy the time we had with him. The time flew by, and I knew – I knew what was going to happen after that two-weeks. He was going to have to leave us – again - and go back to Virginia, with no idea of what’s next, and he wasn’t life-experienced enough yet to deal with these uncomfortable cycles.
Dylan’s been back in Virginia for a few weeks, and I humbly admit – it’s been rough; really rough. The limbo is excruciating and the amount of soul-aching text conversations we’ve had these past weeks have depleted me.
If you read my other blog posts, you’ll recall that I’ve been looking forward to sharing life lessons and perspectives when I feel like they apply to whatever Dylan is going through. News flash - none of that is working. He doesn’t want to hear any of it right now. Zippo. My comparisons of his military experiences to a potential similar experience, or a normal job in the civilian world? Doesn’t want to hear it – he shuts me down. Every day he is told something different about if/when his orders are coming, and the frustration is mounting. He wants to quit, no matter the consequences. He’s unmotivated, angry, sad, and alone. Every day is different – I never know what Dylan I’m going to get, and some days are better than others.
I’m honestly not sure what’s going to happen.
I’ve cried a lot; I’m exhausted, as the late-night texting sessions eventually catch up with me. In the 18 years of parenting him, this season has admittedly been the hardest. But make no mistake - I’m so grateful he confides in me. He’s teaching me a lot about myself, and I know we’ll both be stronger, better human beings because of it. And believe me, I try to convince him of this every day.
I’m being kind, patient, supportive, and I’m praying every day that he will either get his orders and move to the next phase (which I hope is where the stability and happiness in this decision will start to unfold for him), or, he gets clarity on a different path. But the decision is his, and I know that God has a plan for him. I hold strong in that belief with all of my being.
I admire his unwavering bravery, for being open and communicative about what he’s struggling with; for potentially facing harsh judgement, disappointment, ridicule, loneliness. The closeness this brings to our relationship is indescribable.
If you’re thinking, this is part of life, kids have to learn to let go, to move bravely into this new stage of life. Yes – I whole-heartedly agree, they have go let go, essentially “grow up”. I know he’ll get there and this is just part of that process. But there is no way I can expect Dylan’s experiences and reactions to his early life choices, or that of any other young adult, to be the same as mine or yours.
I would rather him make mistakes 10x, change his path 10x, if it means he’s ultimately able to find what he’s truly meant to achieve in this life, than to settle into something he’s not happy with out of fear of disappointment & judgement. And maybe it’s the Army, maybe it’s not.
Only time will tell.