Ten days is not enough to offset thirteen weeks of separation. You would think someone high up on the food chain in the Marine Corps would know this. But since they are very "traditionally" set, odds are it's been that way since the beginning and will be until kingdom come.

Clark's ten days home had been filled with endless errands and things to take care of. While we clearly had spent every waking moment together, it felt as though we hadn't really been able to enjoy ourselves with so many things looming on our to-do list. When the time came that we had to drive back down to Jacksonville, NC for him to go back to work... I was not a happy camper.

It should have been fine, right? I mean, we survived thirteen weeks full of awful drama and life-changing training. We should easily be able to handle four or five weeks (I believe it was). But it felt like the end of the world. I had just gotten my husband back, and now they expected me to give him up? Just like that?



Driving home was the worst feeling ever. Six hours in the car, by myself, after just saying good-bye again. We've faced plenty since that time, and bootcamp was definitely by far the worst. But having Clark home for ten days almost made the upcoming time seem worse. I almost felt like if they had just kept him it wouldn't be as bad. They dangled him in front of me only to take him away again.

Clark was able to call, from what I recall, a couple of times during MCT. There was one instance where it was close to when I needed to go pick him up and attend his graduation. I was actually at work (working retail), and against protocol had kept my phone on in my locker. I was on my break when I heard it vibrating (totally God timing, there). He was on the other line, and I felt so blessed that he had finally gotten through (we had gone a number of days without communication).

I walked onto the floor and let him say hello to a friend. I was so overjoyed that he was calling that I wanted to share him. But then the line was disconnected. I had barely gotten two words in. The friend got to talk to him much more than me. I started crying. Thankfully, my manager was female and ushered me into the back and comforted me. Five minutes later Clark called again. From then on, I was allowed to keep my phone with me. I was so blessed to have some supportive friends and coworkers, and above all the support of my family (even if it was from a distance-- since my parents and younger sister were in Germany and my older sister was in California at the time).

This was a life lesson. At the time I thought I was facing a lifetime of the military. Deployments, late nights, unexpected work loads. This was preparing me for the life I saw my mother endure so gracefully. A life I thought I was prepared for, prepped for-- a life I thought I could handle. We were so young when we were first introduced to it, and we were experiencing one side of the military as children, and now another as adults. We both came from military backgrounds and thought so confidently we could handle it. But the military isn't for everyone. And while Clark was enjoying his training and what he was setting out to do, he was homesick, and my heart was aching from missing him so much.

You may recall we left off with Clark's Family Day. When I think of his Marine Corps Boot Camp Graduation, I always think of Family Day. Perhaps because graduation was a blur to me, partially because I was a bit angry at this and that, and I didn't want to focus on it. So, let's not focus on the negatives but the positives.

Clark's graduation was very inspiring. It was the moment in his Marine Corps career that I was the proudest. They played the anthem, told us history, and handed out awards to the battalions and individuals for this and that.

This was still very early in our marriage. I constantly felt like I was battling my in-laws for my rights as a wife. I know we eloped, and both of our parents weren't quite ready to see us as a couple over their individual children. This, sadly, was a situation where I felt like I was fighting to come first in Clark's life. I wasn't fighting him on it, mind you, but his parents.

When we first arrived for the graduation we were sitting in rather poor spots in the bleachers. I really wanted to try to move closer, and knew that Clark's grandparents got handicap seats which meant that one of us could be down there with them. Of course I offered, but Clark's dad insisted on sitting with them. That's only natural, since they are his parents. Well, as graduation began, my mother-in-law said she'd be right back and went to sit with my father-in-law and her in-laws. I was left with Clark's younger siblings, in the bleachers, struggling to see.

I wasn't a very happy camper.

I know it's petty, and looking back on it now I see that it wasn't that big of a deal. At the time, though, it really felt like I was being shorted.

When the ceremony ended and the Marines were released, I saw Clark looking around. I nearly bolted down the bleachers. He saw his parents moving in, but looked to me and came to me first. He even pointed out that he did it. He said he saw them sitting closer to him during the ceremony, but he wanted to share it with me.

It was for us. For our family.

I was so proud of him.


Graduation began our ten days together. Moments where we would have to turn down going to Hawaii with his family (that's another story) to look for a new place to live and enjoy our limited time together before he left for more training. It all worked out in the end. Clark was with me again. I wasn't going to let anything spoil our time together.

This was a time I really had to learn to depend on God to see me through things. Not just because my husband was gone a lot, but because I was really growing up and coming into my own. I had to learn to let go of my anger with people and focus on the positives. God was providing and seeing us through. Not only that, but he was helping us grow together as husband and wife. We were facing trials with family, life, and more that we would not have made it through if we hadn't been focusing on God and our relationship with him as a couple.

Family day came before I even realized it. Family Day is the day the family of the Marine gets to experience what they have been doing for the past thirteen weeks. They get to see where they were living, where they were eating, meet the drill instructors, etc.

Family day was so stressful. I was so worried about everyone getting to where we needed to be on time. I was so worried about not recognizing Clark. I was just... worried.

Driving over to the stadium, we had to sit and listen to a few people talk about their training. What they went through, what we should expect, and what they could and could not do for family day/graduation/their ten days of leave. It was so obnoxious.

Then they marched in the recruits. We were sitting in the section that we thought was Clark's batallion. I was so flighty that day that I just couldn't even remember. I was staring at all the faces, searching for Clark's eyes. I caught a pair that I thought, perhaps, it was him. How could I not recognize my own husband?

Then they started naming the drill instrcutors... and I realized that we were in the wrong section. Clark wasn't in 1050, he was in 1056. All the way at the other end. They were about to be dismissed. Clark would be wandering around thinking I wasn't there. I couldn't let that happen. I leaned over to Clark's dad, who had already realized that we were in the wrong place. We had elderly grandparents. There was no way we were all going to make it over there in time. He waived me away, telling me I better hurry.

I scurried out of the bleachers and went around the outside, making my way to the very end.

It was like in a movie. I stood at the top of the bleachers, and as they were being dismissed ran down the bleachers and saw Clark immediately, and just ran into his arms.

It. Was. Perfect.

I was so thankful that we had been sitting in the wrong section. So thankful I was the first to see my husband, to hold him, to love him. We had some wonderful minutes to ourselves before the rest of his family appeared. I couldn't have planned it better if I had seated us in the wrong section on purpose.

After Clark's family finally arrived where we were, we truly began family day. I was especially excited to meet Staff Sergeant. The man wouldn't even look me in the eye. He shook my head, called me "ma'am", and went on to talk to Clark's parents. Imagine that. The man didn't have the cahones to face me. It made me beam with pride.

As the day came to a close, I was rather devastated that I had to say good-bye when I had Clark for a mere few hours. I couldn't stand that we had to be seperated, again, before I finally got him to myself for a full ten days. It was a long night of tossing and turning before graduation day.

Before I knew it, it was time to leave for Clark's graduation. I had lost track of time amidst working and having a roommate. We were having such a good time that I seemed to be ignoring all the stress that was revolving around me.

For instance, Clark's family had planned a Hawaiian vacation for his ten days of leave before his next step of training. While this was fabulous, I had soon realized it wasn't a good idea. We had to find a new place to live (our current landlord was not a fan of Luna and wanted to rent the house as a whole rather than two units). Clark had to look into jobs for when he returned. And there was the possibility that he would be late, which the Marine Corps would not accept, thanks to the flights his parents had reserved.

It was irresponsible to go. This I knew. Convincing Clark was going to be something else. As I drove to my in-law's, I started to think about this.

I was going to spend a night in Fayetteville before we left for South Carolina. The plan was to leave in the morning, bright and early, with plenty of time to spare. We didn't leave until the afternoon. I probably should have just up and left with my sister-in-law in tow in the mini-van, but I waited for my mother-in-law to join us. Clark's paternal grandparents were having some health issues, so Clark's father stayed behind to help, in hopes that he'd get there in time for the following day's festivities.

Driving there wasn't too bad. At this point I wasn't exactly a skilled driver. I had barely had my license for two years, and would still let others drive as much as possible when the opportunity presented itself. After coming to a fork in a road with my mother-in-law shouting, "Right, right, right!" I went left. It's just how I function. If someone is yelling at me to do one thing while driving, I do the exact opposite. Never mind that I was intending all along to go right, I went left.

The best part about this? Clark's little sister said, "Mom, that's left."

We all laughed it off over dinner, and then Clark's mom took the wheel. There was no way I was driving at dark in an unfamiliar area. As you may remember from M.I.C.: Defending My "Crown", I'm not exactly a fan of night driving.

We arrived ridiculously late. I'm pretty sure it was somewhere around 10pm. That may not sound late, but even then it was to me. I am an early-to-bed, early-to-ride type of gal.

Clark's mom gave me half of a sleeping pill to calm my nerves. Truly. I was that restless. All the long drive had done was give me even more jitters. Think about it. I had gone thirteen weeks without seeing Clark. Truly without REALLY talking to him. It didn't matter how many letters or how few phone calls there had been, it wasn't the same.

I honestly started to hate that Clark's parents and relatives were there. Don't get me wrong. I knew my in-laws had every right to see their son graduate from bootcamp. His brother and sister and grandparents and all had the right to hug him and congratulate and support him. And I knew he'd want it. But, those first moments, I wanted it to be just me and him. I wanted to love on him and have him tell me how much he'd missed me and tell me that we'd do what was right when it came to his leave. I wanted it to be just me and him, against the world.

That wasn't precisely how it was going to be.

While Clark was away, my schedule was jam packed. I was working for the school newspaper, working two jobs, going to school, and taking care of our fur-babies. I was exhausted.

I complained. There's no way to tip-toe around that truth. I took advantage of the fact that my husband was gone. After all, I went from my parents' house straight into marriage. I had never known any life other than one that held someone, or more than one someone, caring for me. Maybe it made me a little spoiled, and maybe it made me even more high maintenance... but that's life.

I finally left my on-campus job to devote more hours to my job at Calvin Klein (an outlet store). I really loved the job and loved the people. It was a sort of safe haven, since I had started it right before Clark left and the employees there seemed to understand more than anyone else. Maybe because most of them were older than me and had been in relationships longer. I'm not sure. Either way, I ended up leaning on the people there as much as I could.

There was one employee who clearly viewed me as a young, spoiled, immature brat. No, she never used those words, but the way she spoke to me, looked at me, treated me... it was very clear. Granted, she was that way with a lot of people, but it felt as though she seemed to really focus on me.

At the store we had a sort of policy at closing. Usually there would be two employees, plus whatever managers were there. So, whichever employee got there first would get to go home first and not have to follow the manager to the bank. Because of this, I always made sure to get there early. It was worth it to me to show up ten minutes before I could clock in and get to leave early than to have to stay there late and drive home in the pitch-black-dark.

I hate driving at night. I'm actually dreadful at it, anyway, so I try to avoid it as much as possible. With Clark that was easy, but with gone it was a bit more difficult. Now, going home when he was there wasn't bad-- because I knew someone was waiting for me. But, going home without anyone waiting for me... it gave me goosebumps.

So, there was a day I was working with the said employee (who happened to be the floor supervisor) and we were just talking. The store was slowing down, there was another employee, and we were probably about an hour away from closing. I had a lot of homework, I was exhausted, and all I wanted was to be home. So I asked if I could go home early.

She laughed at me. "No, Emily, you can't."

All I said was, "OK." I didn't understand why it was funny, but I was not about to let my exhaustion turn into super crankiness. I knew that she and the assistant manager had been talking about me always going home early. My friend/co-worker had told me just as much. They couldn't fight it every time, though. It was the manager's wish that not everyone stay through closing. They didn't need to pay everyone for the hours. And if I was willing to sacrifice some money to go home early, they couldn't argue with it.

So I went about folding shirts, as I had been doing.

"You know, you're such a princess." This was directed at me.

"Excuse me?"

"You just think you're always supposed to get your way. I mean, why do you want to go home, anyway? It's not like anyone's there waiting for you."

"You're right. He's at bootcamp," I gave her a look that, thankfully, she didn't see. "I want to go home early because I have a lot of homework to do, and because I don't like driving home knowing that no one is there. So, the earlier it is, the less I freak myself out. But it's no big deal. I'm on the schedule until closing, so I'm here. I just thought I'd ask since the store was slowing down and there haven't been customers in here for the last hour."

"It's not like there's anyone waiting for me, either, but you don't see me freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out. That's not what I said."

"Would Clark pick you up? It just seems like you can't take care of yourself."

I was boiling inside. "I'm not a good night driver, and no he wouldn't. But he would be there waiting for me. Something to look forward to after a stressful drive. It's no biggy. I just thought I'd ask."

I walked away. I wasn't about to continue to go through that.

While this conversation was no really called for under the circumstances, I knew she had a point in calling me "princess". Clark being away gave me a chance to find something I hadn't even looked for since high school: independence. Like I said, I went from my parents' home to being married. I wasn't used to doing things just for myself, or entirely on my own. It may sound silly, but I was still searching. Clark being away gave me a chance to really do some things that I may have never done if he hadn't left.

I ended up going home early... go figure. I got on Facebook (such a bad decision) and made my status that I was a "princess who can do things for herself, but doesn't mind being taken care of," or something like that. The employee was my friend and commented, "I like it." (This was before Facebook had the "like" option I believe.

I wasn't ashamed of who I was, but I was angry for the ways he accused me of being it. Like somehow wanting to be taken care of, or wanting someone waiting for you at home, was such a bad thing. Isn't that what most people crave?

I may not have been looking for it, but after dealing with Clark's superiors in the Marine Corps, I definitely developed a "I-can-do-it-myself" attitude, and I wasn't about to let someone at work belittle what I had accomplished thus far during my time alone.

As you may remember from Sorority Blues, I was having some difficulties with my sisters. Perhaps it wasn't their fault. After all, none of them were married. They didn't quite understand precisely what I was going through with Clark being away. However, a few of them were in long distance relationships. I had hoped, perhaps, they would step up and try to really get me out to do things. Sadly, I was mistaken (save for one sister, that is).

Well, at this time I was in a Literature Theory class where I met my now bosom friend, Becca. She and I started talking thanks to her fabulous Wicked bag (as in the musical), and hit it off from there. It just so happened that at this point in time, she was actually dropping from her sorority thanks to a lot of drama and ridiculousness. I shared my woes about how my sisters weren't being supportive about Clark being gone, and we then adopted each other.

Our spring formal was approaching, and it just so happened that it was on my birthday. Thanks to the "tapping" drama from the last function I was at with Clark, I had to stay at formal all night (or at least until Lady President told me I could leave). Well, I certainly didn't want to be stranded all night by my lonesome. Since Becca was dropping her sorority, and had mentioned already buying her own formal dress, I invited her as my date. Of course she said yes. From then on, we were pretty much inseparable.


I decided to have people meet at my house before the event (I forgot what we called this). Since I had to be there all night, I had to drive. Having a minivan meant that I pretty much always got assigned to drive people as it was. I decided, since it was my birthday, I would make cupcakes for everyone. Perhaps I was secretly hoping that they'd all sing to me. Well, much to my dismay, no one ate cupcakes before we had to go. In fact, very few people arrived even remotely early. They showed up and then we had to leave (we were assigned a time). One of my sisters, who was actually moving in with me over the summer and basically already living with me, bought me a sunflower (my favorite) and kept wishing me happy birthday, but no one else seemed to care.

When we all piled in the car, I asked Becca to direct for me off the directions I had printed out.

Let me lead with I am AWFUL at directions. Terrible. Truly. Thank goodness I married Clark, who seriously has a GPS in his head.

So, I asked Becca to direct. However, there was some confusion, and I took a wrong turn. One of my sisters was from the town, and was like, "Where are we going?"

I looked in the rear view mirror and said I was following the directions I printed off.

"Well, you're going the wrong way. You need to turn around. You could have just asked me, I am from here."

My van was jam packed (as in, there may have been one or two people extra) and they were all being loud and my feelings were hurt that no one had wished me a happy birthday or even partaken in the cupcakes I made, and I was stressed because I'm awful with directions but had thought that out and here I was going the wrong way anyway.

"Look," I said, "I'm just following the directions. If we don't come up on the road it says next, I'll turn around, but until then could you just let me drive?"

It may have been nastier than that. I am biased, after all.

She rolled her eyes, said something under her breath to her date, and let me be. Five minutes later, we turned around.

"So, now you're going to listen to me?" She just had to say.

"Well, we figured out what we missed on the directions. Next time why don't you drive."

When we finally got to formal (truly not that late), the sister who had been telling me where to go and whatnot ignored me the entire time. So, when we all sat down at a table, it was me, Becca, and most of the people who had been in the car with me (save the sunflower-sister), and they didn't talk to us at all. Seriously. I basically felt like I was an outcast imposing on formal. I was so mad.


Becca did her best to make the night worthwhile. I think we spent most of the night talking to the female bar tenders (although I wasn't drinking) than we did anyone else. If we weren't talking to them, we were dancing. Thank goodness Becca was super outgoing and loving, because I think I would have spent most of the time sulking at the table or in the bathroom if it wasn't for her.

When we left, we gave more people a ride. At least they had the courtesy to thank me and offer me gas money. Becca spent the night. We stayed up talking/watching a movie and divulging in the cupcakes I made.

My family and friends from afar did everything in their power (sent me flowers, presents, phone calls, etc.) to make up for the fact that Clark wasn't there, but they weren't either. I was so thankful to have one friend, who I wasn't even close to at that time, to really just take over and make my day amazing. Because, admittedly, I'm one of those people who wants a parade on their birthday. Becca definitely did her best to do all that and more for me, even if my "sisters" didn't.

Within all the madness that was going on (See This Means War, and This Means War pt. II to catch up), I had called my in-laws. Clark's father was in the Corps at this time, not to mention a somewhat high ranking officer. I called asking for help, and no one had been available.

Later I had an e-mail from Clark’s mother, one that made me out to be the one who was wrong. “The Marine Corps is different than the Army.” That’s one saying I will never stop hearing from those in the Marines. “We’re different.”

His mother had, in fact, spoken to Staff Sergeant and he had been “nothing but strawberry shortcake,” to quote her. This only added to my anger and battle attitude.

The night after talking to Clark and First Sergeant, I sat down and wrote two complaints: one against the Staff Sergeant, the other against the First Sergeant.

I pulled all the facts, used “military language” and was ready to fight it to the end. Luckily I had a father in the military, so he knew how the system worked. He told me exactly what to do, specific sayings to use, and to demand consequences be enforced. I felt like such a bad ass, excuse the saying. I was ready to show those men that the dependent could be just as tough as the one’s they were training. I was ready to show them that I was just as important as my husband, and they shouldn’t mess with me. Above all, they shouldn’t mess with women who know how the system works, because then they really get in to trouble.

After a lot of tweaking here and there from me, my mom, and my dad, I submitted my IG (Inspector General) complaint. I only submitted one for the two men, but since they overlapped it seemed necessary. I asked for two full written apologies. Though I never received them, I later found out that once that complaint went through- my husband was untouchable. He didn’t get in trouble, because they knew if they slipped again I would be there ready to burry them.

The next morning my phone rang at six o’clock. Not recognizing the number, I was slow to respond. It rang again, and I picked up.

“Good morning, beautiful.” I heard on the other line.

“Hi.” Give me a break, it was early.

“I’m calling you from Staff Sergeant's personal cell phone to let you know that we are at the post office over-nighting you the money. Staff Sergeant is being very generous letting me do this.”

“Oh, I bet he is.”

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, sweety, nothing else.”

“Ok, Staff Sergeant wishes to speak with you. I love you,” he said it robotically so I didn’t respond. I waited, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I would hear him. “I love you,” he repeated softly.

“I love you, too, baby.”

“I’ll write you soon.”

Staff Sergeant got on the phone. He gave me some explanation as to why the money hadn’t been sent out last night and blah blah blah. He asked if there was anything else I needed, and I smiled. “No, sir, that seems to be it for now.”

“Very well. Please let us know when you receive the money.”

This was before my complaint was sent in. Before he knew who he was messing with, and still I sensed it: fear. He was in trouble for lying to his superior, telling him he had spoken to me. He was in trouble for relaying personal information to next-of-kin of the recruit: Clark’s mother. He was in trouble, and it was all because of me, and I was so proud. Even before the complaint was sent in, before all was right and justified, he was scared. It was an amazing feeling.

I do understand their protocol. After all, there are wives out there who would empty the husband's bank account and leave them. There are girlfriend's out there who would want access to that money, possibly for the same reasons. There arem mothers, families, friends and acquaintances who would take advantage of the fact that the person was at bootcamp and the money was there, completely fair game. It's sad that's how things are these days. What I was so upset about was that they were treating me like a common day criminal. It felt as though it should have been a judgement call, but I guess Staff Sergeant or First Sergeant would have fallen if I had turned out to be one of "those" people. Seems to me, though, they took a fall anyway.

Clark's letters improved after that. He seemed to understand what was going on where I was, and that he needed to be on my side, not their side. After all, he had to come home to me-- they were only in his life for a 13 week period. While they may be shaping his golden career, I still had to come first in his life. It was a hard lesson to learn, especially at the ripe age of 20, but we never did anything the easy way.

It was no surprise that I didn't hear back from anyone. After all, it took who knows how many calls before I finally got to Clark previously. Did I really expect them to get back to me?

This time I e-mailed the Staff Sergeant.. I asked him what had been going on, why I hadn't heard anything. I told him if I didn't get a response, I'd call up the chain of command.

Guess what? I got no response.

This time I talked to the First Sergeant of Clark’s company. When explaining the situation to First Sergeant, I asked for the access code and things like that to my husband’s account so I could transfer out the amount needed each month.

First Sergeant said that while they normally didn’t do that, he’s sure I would be an exception considering I was his wife and we were in school and all that good stuff. He said if I didn’t hear from anyone by noon the next day, to give him a call.

As always, the Marines didn’t seem to care. I called First Sergeant Lasonde at exactly noon the next day and he was not available. I left a message and waited. He called me back some time around three and said, “I hear we’ve made some progress!”

“I beg your pardon?” I asked.

“Staff Sergeant told me he spoke to you as well as your mother-in-law about the situation.”

I went quiet for a second, feeling the red monster of anger ready to roar. “I never spoke to Staff Sergeant. I cannot say for my mother-in-law, but he has not spoken to me.”

“Really? Huh. Well, we cannot give you the information.”

“And why not?” I asked, holding back tears and getting ready to shout.

“Because it is not protocol,” he said as if that settled the matter, “we cannot make exceptions.”

“But Staff Sergeant e-mailed me and told me Clark would e-mail me the information, and you yourself said that I would most likely be an exception.”

“It’s not protocol,” he said again.

“Fine. Do you have the number of your company commander? I’d like to speak to him.”

“Sweetheart, you can talk to who ever you please. Do you want my name? Make sure you spell it right when you speak to him.”

“Yes, that would be wonderful.” I smirked as if he could see me.

“It’s First Sergeant (he spelled his name out for me here). You got that, honey?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I have it. Now, that number, please.”

The conversation commenced until I broke down and cried. I called my mom, well aware that it was nearly ten her time at this point (my parents were stationed in Germany). I told her what was going on and asked if Dad could call, but dad was in the hospital visiting people. My mom asked for the numbers and said she’d take care of it.

I paced our bedroom back and forth, wondering what on earth was happening. After some time, she called me back. “You should be receiving $1000,” she said as if she had fixed it.

Our conversation reviewed what had been said to me, whereupon she said, “I wish I would have known that when I called him. I would have said much more than I did.”

While I was on the phone with my mom my other line beeped and it said, “Restricted”, which meant someone from Parris Island. I told my mom I had to go, and that I’d call her tomorrow. I transferred over to the other line with the prissiest tone I could conjure. “Hello.” I said as a statement, not a question.

“Hey.” I didn’t have to be told who it was- I started crying.

“Wait, calm down, we have to talk. What’s going on?”

I spilled, but as I did Clark continuously would interrupt me with the b.s. that he had been fed. “Staff Sergeant has done nothing but go out of his way for us,” “How was First Sergeant disrespectful? He’s been nothing but kind.”

I kept asking him who was in the room with him, and while he would respond “no one,” I later found out that all of them were standing outside the door of the office- listening in.

Although the conversation ended somewhat happy and I got a couple “I love yous”… it just wasn’t the same. Something sounded different in his vice, in his tone, I was utterly convinced that he had changed for the worse.

I thought he was turning in to one of “them”. “Them” defined as the men like First Sergeant and Staff Sergeant who had no respect for their recruits or their dependents. Those men that were obsessed with order and control, so much that it overrode their sense of individualism and family.

I know now that not all Marines are like this, obviously. You will find men like this in every branch of the military, as well as men who are not in the military. Still, the way things were happening, it made me afraid for Clark to come home. Don't get me wrong, I wanted nothing more than for him to be home, but I was afraid of who he might be when he returned. He already sounded different to me, what was he going to be like in another month? Two months? I was worried.

That night I got on my knees and prayed. I needed to calm down, and it was the only way I knew how.

I knew there were still things to be done, to take care of. After all, Staff Sergeant had lied to his superiors as well as contacted Clark's parents instead of me. He had no right to do either, and he wasn't about to get off the hook that easy. I had been told things that weren't true, talked to condescendingly, and laughed at. I wasn't about to take all that lying down.

Even so, I prayed. I prayed for strength, for guidance, and most of all, I prayed for Clark. I prayed he'd come home to me, and while I was sure there would be some changes, I prayed deep down he'd be the same man I fell in love with.

When I returned from my beach trip, I was ready to butt heads with the Marine Corps.

I had that whole, long weekend to let everything seep in. The way the man on the other end of the phone had lied to me, talked down to me. The way Clark was saying he had no idea what was going on. How I had to ask his parents for help to pay rent. How they had all lied, portraying this glorious picture and in reality I was being treated like garbage.

I was ready.

So, we got back. I got back into the swing of things with school and my job, and then started on the war path again. I called the same number I had previously called. I told them I needed to speak to Clark's drill instructor, or Clark himself. I explained the situation again. Telling them that I was a full time student, and I did not work enough to meet our financial needs. I told them if they would not give me access to his new bank account, I needed a monthly check for our rent and major bills.

And I remembered to ask for the man's name on the other end of the phone when he said he'd have someone call me back. I told him I'd give him twenty-four hours before calling back again.

In a little under an hour, I got a call from Clark's drill instructor.

He asked a number of questions.

"What do you do?" I told him.

"Are you pregnant?" I wanted to return with something not very nice, but I said no.

"Is this an emergency?" Really, dude? I explained to him the same thing I had explained to everyone else.

"There's not much I can do for you, ma'am. You're going to have to get help from others. His recruiter should have explained that to you."

This is when I first lost it. I told him I was Clark's wife, not some girlfriend out to steal his money. I told him that I had every legal right to Clark's money, and was even going to bend and be fine with receiving a check. I told him that if I didn't get the money, I would be kicked out of our house and then he'd have that on his hands as well. I told him that we were informed that I would be able to receive some of Clark's finances, since I obviously needed them and they were rightfully mine. Then I threw in the fact that they weren't even giving Clark free access to his bank account, and I was pretty sure that was illegal (which was pushing it, but I was furious).

He told me there was really nothing he could do. He asked me how old I was, and then told me "nicely" that I needed to grow up. I told him I wanted to speak to Clark. He said no.

"Are you married, Staff Sergeant?" I asked him.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Well, wouldn't you want to help if your wife was going through this? Isn't it your job to provide for her? Wouldn't you want to comfort her, and find a solution?"

"I'll call you right back, ma'am."

Bingo.

I waited by the phone. I was trying to calm down. To give them, once again, the benefit of the doubt. My phone rang about thirty minutes later.

"Yes?"

"Emily?"

"Yes?"

"It's me." It took me a while to honestly figure out who "me" was. Once I did, I started crying.

"What's the problem?"

"They won't let me receive any of your money."

"I have finances here." He repeated. At this point I was figuring out that someone was standing there with him, and I was possibly on speaker phone.

"What are you, a robot?"

"No. I have things I have to pay for here."

"Well, you have things you need to pay for at home. Ya know, like our home. Our bills. Food for your wife."

"I know, Emi." First sign of real-Clark and not robot-Clark.

"So, tell your drill instructor and whoever else is standing there that you need to send money home because it doesn't grow on trees, as I'm sure they know, and our parents aren't a limitless bank, either."

"Not sure I can tell them that."

"I'm sure they heard me."

"I have to go. We were in the middle of [insert technical term for him training here]."

"I miss you."

"I know, baby. It will only be a little longer. I love you."

"I love you, too."

The line didn't disconnect. His drill instructor got back on the phone.

"I will call you back after I speak with my supervisor."

"No. I want to speak to your supervisor."

"I don't think...."

"I want to speak to your supervisor, [insert his last name here]. You've been no help, other than putting my husband on the phone, and we came to no solution."

"I'll see what I can do."

The line disconnected. I didn't get a phone call the next day, or the next.

Which, as you may guess, meant I was soon to call back. But not until I enlisted some more help.

When the time came for Clark to leave for bootcamp, it was a bit surreal. The recruiter came and picked Clark up from our house, since Clark wasn't allowed to drive and it would have been rather a mess if I tried to take him. I'm sure there was more protocol to it than that, but I really don't remember.

I told Clark to text and call me as much as possible before they took his phone away. I told him to be smart, stay ahead of the game, and remember what was important. I told him not to let them brainwash him.... because that's what worried me the most.

Just like that, with a kiss and a hug, he was gone.

As I watched the car drive away, I burst into tears. I know, I know. It's not like he was deploying, but that's what it felt like to me. This was going to be the first span of time I had been away from him. It wasn't like I was going to Germany to visit my family and would see him in two weeks. He was going away, I was to receive letters, and that was it. I would see him at the end of June (basically July).

I moped around the house. I wasn't sure what to do.

We were told that Clark would get a phone call home when he arrived at Parris Island, South Carolina. I had heard from him very briefly up until he got on the bus and they took away his things. I was anxiously awaiting to hear his voice, no matter the hour.

Around 2am, my phone rang.

I answered. It was splotchy. All I heard was.

"...safely...time...thanks for your support."

Click.

Was that my phone call? It couldn't be... could it?

Why, yes, yes it was.

I learned later that Clark got to read from a script that was taped above the pay phone, and there was someone standing there to make sure he didn't say anything except what was on that sheet of paper.

Within a few days I got a sheet of paper from "Clark" with information about what he would be going through. It wasn't until a week or so later that I received my first letter from him.

In my first letter, I made sure to ask him about finances. After all, one of the reasons he honestly went was to make sure we had some sort of solid income, no matter how meager. We hadn't been informed just how much of that I would receive, or how I could have access to it, etc.

Clark informed me in his second or third letter I wouldn't have access to it. He informed me that they set up a bank account that he didn't even have the information to. Therefore, I would have to ask family for help until we could sort things out.

I. Was. LIVID.

I called Clark's recruiter. He said there was a number I could call with concerns and stuff, but he'd doubt I'd get anything out of it. (Yes, he actually said that to me.) So he gave me the number and I called.

The first time I called no one answered. The second time I called there was a button that said to press two if it was an emergency, so I pressed two. It connected me to 9-1-1... I was so embarrassed.

I called back and finally got an answer. I explained a shorter version of my problem to who answered the phone.

"My husband informed me in a letter that I won't be getting any money while he's away, and we didn't prepare for that. I need to speak to him or someone who can help me with this, because while I have a job, it's not enough to cover our expenses."

"Well, ma'am, he has expenses here, too."

"I understand that, but I'm his wife, and therefore I have a right to his money just like he has a right to mine. Could you let him call me, and he could share the information he has?"

"Certainly. We'll have him call you tonight." I should have known that was too easy.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it."

"Is there anything else?"

"Don't you need my information?"

"Oh, right."

I gave it to him. I should have taken his name. I should have been smarter than to believe they were just going to let Clark call me. I mean, it emphasized in all the information that all we'd get was letters. Still, I wanted to believe the man on the other end of the line was honorable.

I waited, and waited, and waited. I barely did anything that day without having my phone right by me. There was even a sorority function that one of my sister's convinced me to go to, and I was sitting there hugging my phone the entire time.

When Clark didn't call, I was such a mess. I didn't understand. The military I knew wasn't like this.

The next day the same sorority sister and her family were going to the beach for Easter break. They had invited me, and although I had to work that day, I had agreed to go. I got out of work, explaining what was going on and that I was feeling mentally up to it. Thankful for an amazing boss, they understood, and I left for the beach with my sister and hef family. She told me to just let it go until after the beach.

Little did I know it would be getting a lot worse before it got better.

As Clark prepared to head off to Boot Camp, things got a little tricky. Preparing for my spouse to be gone for thirteen weeks would be difficult alone, but taking into account that I really wouldn't have access to him for that long (communication wise) was definitely trying on my nerves.

I wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. I think we had about ten days, maybe it was a little longer than that, in between the time he told me when he was going, and when he was going.

Clark realized (a bit late) that he was going to be gone for my birthday. He decided he wanted to take me to the zoo as an early birthday trip. The problem was the only day we could go was a required sorority function. I don't remember at this point if it was a fundraiser, meeting, or what, but it was required.

Initially I did have to work that day. So I sent e-mails to the appropriate people and was excused from the event. However, I then got out of work. I may have neglected to tell the appropriate sorority people because I wanted to go to the zoo with my husband. If I had been extra sneaky, I could have withheld the information entirely. Oh, but Facebook. I mean, how could I resist posting pictures of going to the zoo?

(March 2009)

(Elephants are my absolute favorite.)

Sorority sisters got mad. Some didn't understand why I was excused to go to the zoo with my husband and they weren't excused for other things.

This was the first thing that started the "sorority blues."

Looking back, I totally understand why many of them were upset. I was excused from an event to go have fun, and shouldn't have been an exception-- even if my husband was shipping off to bootcamp for thirteen weeks. I still think it should have been somewhat understandable, but like with many other corporations and such, there can't be special circumstances all the time simply because of your marital status (or what have you).

Next was a mixer. I had volunteered to "tap" for this big party/dance/mixer because I didn't want to at formal. The only problem was, this was the last mixer before Clark left. Suddenly I didn't want to be required to stick around ALL night just to make sure other sisters didn't get out of control with their drinking. I wanted to be home, cuddling with the hubs. So, I went, I got the low-down of what I was supposed to do... and I left early.

Technically, I was never told I had to stay all night. Technically, I never signed the paper agreeing to "tap" at a function, or what it entailed. Technically, no one cared.

So, the next day I was called to meet our VP, which happened to be one of my semi-decent friends, and was handed a letter for "J-Board" (Judicial Board). AKA, I had to meet with the pres, vp, and someone else and explain myself and possibly face consequences.

To me, it was pretty laughable. Of course, I didn't tell them that. Sisters had been "J-Boarded" for much worse than leaving a party early.

Here's the thing, though. Other sisters were not happy. After all, I wasn't living up to my sorority duties. I was fully focused on my marriage and spending time with my husband before he left. I didn't care what the sorority expected of me, I only cared about my marriage. This should be somewhat understandable, right? Maybe. I do know it was somewhat immature, and that I should have tried to balance. But, honestly, what's more important? A sorority, or a marriage?

Marriage. Duh.

So, when I met with the "J-Board", I explained that I did have to initially work but then got out of it and went to the zoo, forgetting the duty to the sorority. When it came to "tapping", I stated that I didn't have any documents that told me what I was required to do, and I'm pretty sure I never signed one. However, I offered to "tap" at formal, since Clark wasn't going to be able to be there, anyway.

That seemed to work.

The thing that bugged me the most? Technically the "J-Board" was just for the tapping, but they brought up the zoo incident as well. On top of that, apparently a fellow sister had accused Clark of using a fake ID at one of the functions he was at.

I. Was. Livid.

Clark using a fake ID meant I could get kicked out. That's not what bothered me. What bothered me is that someone actually suggested that Clark did such a thing. More than once I considered demanding who said it, but I knew they wouldn't tell me... so it didn't matter. I just couldn't believe someone in the sorority would do such a thing.

And then I thought about how much I hadn't been doing with/for the sorority... and part of me believed it. I started wondering if the sorority really was the right place for me. After all, most of the girls were interested in three things:

1. Boys
2. Getting Drunk
3. Getting Drunk with Boys

I'm not saying that all sororities are like this, at all. Or that all the girls in that sorority were, either. There just really was no structure to our sorority, and we had a severe lack of adult supervision within the Greek system as it was at my college.

What I am saying, is that the sorority wasn't starting to look as glamorous as it did to begin with to this married-young-college-student. I was realizing that it was leading me farther away from things that were important (God, my marriage, school) and trying to get me to focus on other things instead.

I figured out where I got "power-push".

In "The Firm" workout, every time you get to the end of the move, where you put it into half-time or whatever, she calls it your "power-push". That little extra something to get your heart rate up.

That's where it comes from.

Yesterday I successfully did the whole The Firm Bootcamp video. My plan had been to do it twice a week, every week this month. I think I've done it twice this month total.

Sadly Michael has been in a funk. It makes it really hard to prepare healthier meals and exercise more when Michael won't let me put him down and Clark's working more so he's not home.

I guess, in reality, it's preparation. I mean, when Clark has a "real" job, it's not like he's going to be home all the time to help me out. That being said, I think I've learned that I have a lot of work to do to get myself in a healthier lifestyle.

I gained a pound this past week, sadly. We definitely haven't been doing our best. While we've been walking and eating healthier meals, the sweets still tend to sneak into our house... or rather one of us *cough*Clark*cough* brings them into our house.

The other night we had brownies for the first time in almost a year. Sad. Horrible. Pathetic.

Oh, but they were so tasty.

Apparently I was wrong in thinking that blogging would help keep me accountable. Of course, it isn't truly this month's fault. It just happens that there's this extra 10 to 15 pounds that I cannot shake.

Which isn't fair to say because I know, for a fact, that it's my eating that needs to improve.

So how do I do it? How do we just cut out all the bad stuff? Even if it is a slow process... for example, Clark has cut out french fries. Well, we've both cut them out, but I don't eat them that much at all, so it really doesn't count.

How can I cut out chocolate? I can't.

How can I cut out muffins, breads, cupcakes, cookies, cakes....? I can't.

I suppose the correct response would be, I don't know how.

Even if I try to revert to my extreme diet that I did in high school (well, The South Beach Diet), I don't see it working. Plain nuts make me gag at this point because I ate them so much then. Sugar free stuff makes my stomach ache and gives Michael gas (and, I imagine, a stomach ache as well). Just fruits, veggies, meats, and a little bit of dairy doesn't seem to fuel me with half the energy I need to keep up with my son.

So what do I do?

Yesterday we went hiking. Five miles in about three hours, which isn't bad considering it used to take us 2.5 hours to do five miles. And we had Michael with us. And we stopped for lunch.


It was very empowering.

It definitely picked up my mood.

This blog has taken me about two days to write, so if it goes from negative-nelly to positive-peggy that's why.

Last night, after a family-filled day, Clark and I had a chat. We talked about what we wanted to work on physically with ourselves, and even let the other have a say. I do think it's incredibly important to always be attracted to your spouse. After all, if you're not... what happens then? So, we're making plans. Plans to exercise together. Plans to improve our eating. Plans for being more responsible with money.

We're planning. And I really think that's going to help me continue with my "power-push"... or perhaps really start it.

Once again, I tend to be behind the camera more than in front of it. I promise pictures come August 1st.

Advice is still greatly appreciated!

See Power-Push #1 and Power-Push #2 to get the whole scoop!