We have all heard hateful words in our military lives.
We have been called just about every name in the book by civilians and people who just do not understand that life we lead.
A man who saw my huge belly and a yellow ribbon on my chest in 2003 cursed me out in the middle of a store. I have seen the hatred in faces of those who do not understand, but there is one thing that hurts me to my soul.
THAT ONE SPOUSE… there is always that one spouse who is the base bully, the one who works very hard to hate just about everyone or put someone down.
They always find the negativity in every situation or they start a rumor with their pals to pick on someone.
That one spouse could be anyone — an officer spouse, an enlisted spouse — it doesn’t matter.
Bullying has no rank affiliation. This can be just about anyone.
Let me set the story for you.
In 2003, I was newly married, pregnant with my first child, living in Key West, Fla., and my brand spanking new shiny husband was deployed to Iraq. I had the amazing opportunity to meet some of my husband’s fellow sailors; they affectionately like to be called Seabees. These fine people introduced me to their spouses and families and welcomed me with open arms.
The worst part is that they lived on a different housing base than I did. I got moved into a great, little 2-bedroom townhome and had the craziest neighbor I have ever known.
Just as I am trying to get settled and learn my new place among the military, I get a knock on my door.
A very sweet woman was standing there holding a pie (a pecan pie to be exact). She introduced herself and just walked right into my house, straight to my kitchen and set the pie down.
She began badgering me with a slew of questions, some of which were getting VERY personal, including if my bits and pieces were still clean since my belly was ginormous.
After about 20 minutes of not being able to actually say anything, I kindly asked this lady if she could excuse me while I made a call. I called my friend and told her to come pick me up, because I thought I was in labor. I told this new friend (or so I thought) that I was sorry, but I had to go to the hospital.
She then went from “Miss Sweet Homemade Pie” to looking like she ate sour grapes. She said, “Well, if you wanted me to leave, you didn’t need to make an excuse such as that.”
I tried to tell her that I REALLY WAS HAVING CONTRACTIONS! She wouldn’t listen and from that point on, she tried to make my life a living hell.
She started rumors that the baby wasn’t really my husband’s, that I was an alcoholic, she would join command events and snicker at me with her brat pack. She even stooped to the point of telling the command that I was having mental problems.
