You’d think that a military brat, I’d be used to moving all the time. That statement is only true to a certain extent. I am used to moving often. I have lived in 13 different homes. My life was constantly changing as I grew up. When people asked me where I was born, I would say Missouri. When people ask where I’ve lived the longest, I would say Kansas. When people ask me where I liked the best, I would say that I’m torn between Texas and Montana. Two years ago, I prepared for something I was not ready for. Moving overseas. The process of moving from United States to the United Kingdom forced me to step outside of my comfort zone and learn to adapt to a new lifestyle in a new country.
My dad first received his P.C.S. (Permanent Change of Station) orders on the 14th of April, 2013, which was earlier than we had expected. I was working on an art project when my dad walked in the door and greeted my mom with a smile and an envelope in his hand. Inside was a letter saying that we were moving to Mildenhall, England. My family had suspicions that we would be moving soon, but we didn’t expect to report to our next assignment less than three months
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later. I was caught off guard. I began searching Google for information about Mildenhall, England. It was near a few small towns, and an hour and a half from London, but it was still in the middle of nowhere. I discovered that the United Kingdom being an island, it would be windy and humid because altitude wise, we would be very close to sea level (28 feet to be exact). Between the two bases, Mildenhall and Lakenheath, the population was around 10,000 people, primarily active duty young airmen. It lifted my spirits to know that we would be stationed at another S.O.W. (Special Operations Wing) base. Previous S.O.W. bases had the same security levels, events for families, and drills/exercises for the airmen so that it would be the same at any S.O.W. base in America. The moving process began about two weeks after my dad received his official orders. We got our passports and visas, renewed our military ID cards, and made sure our medical records were up to date. During that same month, our belongings were slowly disappearing from our home. When you move overseas with the military, you don’t just have movers come put your things in a truck and move it for you. You have three sets of movers. The first set of movers takes anything you’re putting in the military storage facility in New York while you’re gone. That was the majority of our furniture, appliances, and memorabilia. After that, you have what’s called your “home goods” shipment. That is the things that will be sent early so that you can have them immediately. Pots and pans, towels and bed sheets, instruments, and essentials went in this shipment two weeks later. The final set of movers loaded everything else in your home, but it would take an extra six weeks minimum to arrive after you do. This process goes by very quickly, and it’s definitely hard to juggle with everything else you have to do to out-process from the base. As we began to watch the transition in our lives take place, we saw that that chapter of our lives was coming to a close. We had a bittersweet goodbye to Clovis, New Mexico. We left a wonderful community of people so that we could do the Lord’s work in a new place. When it came time for my family to go across the pond, they bought tickets for my mom, dad, and little brother to leave on the 19th of June, 2013. I, however, was set to spend a summer in Montana for theatre school. I wouldn’t leave until the 5th of August, six weeks later. While I was at school, I met two other students that were also stationed at the same base named Zoë and Phoebe. Both of them were in the same year as me, and would be attending Lakenheath American High School in the fall. Phoebe’s dad was in a different squadron with the S.O.W. than my dad, but they had already met. Zoë was a dual citizen and her parents were civilian contractors that worked in the schools, so they would both be working with my mom. It definitely made the moving process easier knowing I had already met two people. About a month after my family had arrived, I got a call from my parents saying we finally got a house, and it was right next door to Phoebe. I kept being reassured by my parents that I would like England once I was adjusted, but I knew I wouldn’t be sure until I got there. My six weeks in Montana came to a close, and I was ready to make the trek to England. After waiting for four hours in a small airport in Montana with no air conditioning, and I finally boarded my aeroplane. A mixture of emotions rose within me. I was scared, excited, anxious, and curious of what would lie ahead. I was saying goodbye to everything that was familiar to me: the food, the currency, my friends, and the busy American lifestyle. I didn’t know what to expect my first day in a new country, but I hoped I wouldn’t be in culture shock for long. I spent a total of 16 hours in the air throughout the day, and I honestly slept through the majority of it. When the seatbelt light came on telling us that we were landing, my nerves started to fire. I wasn’t sure what I should think or feel. Visiting a new country was exciting because I’d never been out of the country before. But this is also a foreign place that I would be calling home for the next 2-3 years. Upon landing, I looked out the window, and I didn’t see much light. It almost looked as if there were no clouds in the sky; the sky was simply dark grey like the ocean after a storm. As I looked closer, I could see that the large mass of grey that covered the skyline was all dark clouds that stretched as far as I could see. The patterns and shades of the clouds looked different every time I looked out the window. It fascinated me. At that moment I knew; I was not in America anymore. As I left the aeroplane, the flight attendant said, “If you don’t want to spend all day here, run to customs.” I wasn’t completely sure what she meant. Unfourtunately, I did not take her advice. I walked to the customs line, and I got to the end of the line. I looked about 10 feet in front of me and saw a sign that said “3 hour wait from here.” My jaw dropped. Using my hour of free wifi, I message my mom and tell her I’ve landed but it’s going to be a few hours. She said just to be patient while she goes to get my luggage. As I waited, I made conversation with the family behind me, and we shared a few laughs because they too, ignored the flight attendant’s advice. That small family of four was traveling around Europe because they felt that their kids were old enough to appreciate it. London would be their first stop, and Morocco would be their final stop about four weeks later. Talking to that family eased some of the tension I was feeling while I was still waiting to pass the finish line that was the custom’s desk. I have made it to the “2 hour wait” sign when I got a call from my mother. Somehow, someone took my luggage thinking that it was theirs. She was asking me questions about what my luggage looked like and what was in it so that she could tell the help desk. We came to find that someone with an identical suitcase took mine instead of theirs. As I was trying to help my mother as much as I can, I run out of free wifi. I begin to stress. Now, I was entering a new country for the first time with no way to contact my parents. And I lost my luggage. Two hours later, I made it through customs, my mother has contacted the person with my suitcase, and have started the journey to my new home. I felt relieved when I was able to just sit in the car with my mom and take a breath from the long trek across the pond. Following my eventful morning was an eventful afternoon. We drove on the wrong side of the road for two hours, and pulled up to our new cottage on Lakenheath, the base next to Mildenhall. As we unloaded my suitcases from the car, our moving van pulled in. They unloaded our things in sections. They unloaded our bedrooms first, then our kitchen, then the rest of our downstairs area. While my dad and brother helped unload, my mom took me on a tour the two bases, Mildenhall and Lakenheath. Just like all other Air Force bases, there was a commissary, base exchange, bowling alley, flight line, chapel, and officer’s club.
I felt like I was back in Clovis, New Mexico. The consistency within military bases made the transition much easier for me. I was able to adjust myself throughout the next few months much more smoothly than I would if the consistency wasn’t there. Although things like the time difference, eating schedule difference, and change in climate are things that one can adjust to easily. Things like culture shock and making friends aren’t. I learned that the faster you get involved, the faster you’ll adjust. I met a lot of my friends by going to the local youth group called Club Beyond. I also joined clubs and sports teams at the high school, and it connected me with people I still talk to years
later. The trek from the United States to the United Kingdom forced me to challenge myself. From that, I acquired travelling skills, adaptation skills, and social. The physical journey from one country to another encouraged me to broaden my horizons and taught me that change shapes us into who we are.
Change is inevitably going to happen to all military families. Therefore, being in the military has taught me how to easily acclimate to different situations. For example, my family and I have been to five different bases. Each time I
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Everything seems like it’s falling out of place, it’s going too fast, and my mind is out of control. I think these thoughts as I lay on my new bed, in my new room, in this new house, in this new city, wondering how I got to this place. “My life was fine,” I say to myself, “I didn’t want to go.” Thinking back I wonder how my father felt as he came home to the house in Stockton, knowing his wife and kids left to San Diego to live a new life. Every time that thought comes to my mind, it feels as if I’m carrying a ten ton boulder around my heart; weighing me down with guilt. The thought is blocked out as I close my eyes, picturing my old room; I see the light brown walls again and the vacation pictures of the Florida and camping trip stapled to them. I can see the photo of me on the ice rink with my friends and the desk that I built with my own hands. I see my bed; it still has my checkered blue and green blanket on it! Across from the room stands my bulky gray television with its back facing the black curtain covered closet. My emotions run deep, sadness rages through my body with a wave of regret. As I open my eyes I see this new place in San Diego, one large black covered bed and a small wooden nightstand that sits next to a similar closet like in my old room. When I was told we would be moving to San Diego, I was silenced from the decision.