Just Accept it; or, The Five Stages of GTMO

Almost 50% of our staff is leaving this summer to go on to other DoDDS locations. I've felt a combination of happiness and sadness since I heard the news; it's been a constant up and down of emotions.

This also means we will get a new crop of teachers and people in our small community. Many may find that they are experiencing what I like to call "The Five Stages of GTMO."

Let me explain.

The one and only GTMO gas station
Gas is currently $3.99/gallon

You will find yourself asking these sorts of questions:
HOW MUCH is that (gas, groceries, internet, phone calls, flight) going to cost??!
HOW LONG is that (next flight, next available dental appointment, mail delivery, household goods arrival) going to take??
WHAT have I gotten my kids into?? (poor technology at home/school, no sports or other extracurricular opportunities involving competition at all, very limited course offerings)
It's taking HOW MANY days to download that (one album, one television show, one YouTube video, etc)?

You will also find yourself saying, "Um, SERIOUSLY?" and "No, you're kidding, right?" quite a bit.



Moving along, you come to Step Two.

Once you have passed through what can only be called "shock," you find yourself extremely perturbed by all of those cutsie "it's on the barge!" jokes. As in, you want to stab the next person who says that in the eye.

Signs you are stuck in the middle of Step Two include finding yourself making these statements (in an indignant tone of voice):

Explain to me again why I have to pay this much for this service (internet, phone, etc).

I really have to spend $$$$ just to get ______ medical treatment back in the states (mammogram, teeth cleaning, MRI)? And nobody told me I can't get any of these services here?

Bank of phones at SCSI, the monopoly for phone service and internet.
You don't want to know what it costs for our poor internet.
Let's just say it's ridiculous.

There is really no bread/milk/cheese/peanut butter/diet coke/fresh vegetables of choice this week at the Commissary? AGAIN?

Then you eventually (hopefully) let go of some of that anger, and find yourself in Step Three.

I knew I was there when I decided that I would trade my youngest/oldest child for a block of real cheese.

(Okay, just kidding about that one).

THE NEX/Commissary: The one and only store for groceries and everything else.

Moving along again, you are now in Step Four.

Shock, anger, and outrage turn to tears.

Some possible statements in your inner (obviously depressed) dialogue may include the following:


I really miss ______________ (food item).
(You know you are at this stage when you find yourself crying in the middle of the aisle of the Commissary, you miss what you can't eat just that much).

I can't talk to my family or friends via Voice Over IP. I'd give anything to see _____'s face for just a few minutes.

I can't believe I'm this upset because my _____ didn't make it in today's mail. Again. *sob*

Then, hopefully, you get to the last step, Step Five.

Girl Scout Beach, one of several beautiful beaches

Some may say it's giving up.

Some may say, well hell, you lost the fight.

I'd like to think it's more like Making Peace with What You Can't Control.

There's a point where tangible objects become, well, just more clutter. I have saved mucho money living here. If you are saving for something big (college? a new car? a new house? a great vacation?) or paying off debt, it's easier to do here without the temptations of living in most US towns or cities.

I have learned that stuff is just stuff, and although I like my stuff, I can live without almost anything. When I went back to the US twice, I wasn't even tempted to go crazy shopping, because. . . it's just stuff.

My kids have missed out on so much while living here. It's been a sacrifice on their part. However, they have gained so, so much that they wouldn't have elsewhere.

There's freedom. My children have, within reason, full reign of the base.

The one and only movie theatre---under the stars,
first-run titles and FREE!

The oldest can drive himself to the (free) movies, bowling, the skate park, a friend's house (sometimes all in the same night) and not have to check in with a cell phone because, well, we don't have cell phones here. It took some getting used to, but it does build a different type of parent/kid trust than in a situation where you can check in on your kid (or track them) on a cell phone 24/7.

The youngest rides his bike or walks to friends' houses, or plays in the park---all without one of his parents shadowing him/accompanying everywhere he goes. We didn't live in a neighborhood where he could do that before now.

There's ingenuity that comes when you live without. You learn to adapt recipes, fabricate parts for almost anything, and find non-technology based ways to entertain yourself.

You spend a lot more time in the outdoors and less time in front of a computer screen or television.

There's community. You give up your privacy and you are always your job when you are in public, true. But you also have people here you really know and can depend on. They aren't superficial, nosey neighbors; they are friends. They watch your house when you are off island. They feed your pets, water your plants. They unexpectedly drop by with a plate of something homemade and delicious. When your car breaks down or hasn't arrived yet, they lend you theirs. When you can't buy something at the Commissary, they give you their last stick of butter or last two eggs. They stop you in the NEX to ask how your sick child is doing. They know when to not say anything and just give you a hug.

With community comes lasting friendships. Next year, my colleagues will be living in Japan, Okinawa, Belgium, Germany, S. Korea, Italy, and Spain. I will have connections I didn't have before. There is a good chance I will know at least one person in any country I move to in the future, which makes a big move a little less scary.

You may find yourself slipping into the first four Stages of GTMO now and again.

That's normal.

Just remember: this too, shall pass. With every crappy day at work, misplaced mail package, or failed attempt at a recipe because you can't get 3/4 of the ingredients, there are the happy days, as well.

It's the upcoming graduation where, chances are, you will know every single one of the graduating seniors (there are less than 20) and their parents. Even if you don't work at the school, you will attend and cheer them on. Because that's how we do things here. It's the next tearful goodbye at ferry landing and the next social invitation to (or from) someone coming in to replace their job. It will be the cheers when the grocery store gets in Brie to go with wine (because the one thing the Commissary never, ever runs out of is wine).

It's the knowledge that one day, you will look back and laugh about that mini-breakdown over a lack of Diet Coke, instead of worrying about your young son who was wandering alone all over the store.  Or when you were stressing over the traffic jam of 5 minutes caused by a stubborn iguana who had to poop right in the middle of the road. Or the fact you freaked out when you realized you hadn't seen your house key in months---when was the last time you locked the house, anyway?

photos from the Elementary Library "Where in GTMO is the Cat in the Hat?" contest.