Welcoming 2018 Together

The idea of beginning again is like stepping onto a new Ferris Wheel.

We go around the same loop we did at another amusement park, except this ride is more grand and brings us to another vantage point we were never at before.

That’s the sense I’m getting as the morning moves on into the New Year’s Eve afternoon. My husband and I are newlyweds, and we get to enjoy welcoming the new year together. He’s playing Overwatch right now on his computer while I’m sitting in our tiny dining room, typing on my laptop. Our apartment is so small, but so befitting for our young marriage and we know we want to move out into something a little bigger when it’s right.

I am still in the army for at least another three years and he’ll be out next May. He’s already starting the job hunting process which is exciting. While we both love the army and are grateful to serve our country, he welcomes the idea of a fresh start to his career.

My new career in Public Affairs has been mediocre and not as busy as I thought it would be. In 2017, I published five articles – one in LA YOGA Magazine and four in the post newspaper. This is a huge step back from the weekly newspaper I worked for in California before enlisting. With my English degree, we’re discussing the option for me to apply for Officer Candidate School and move up in rank. If accepted, the risk of me losing PAO work is high. However, my mother-in-law was a 42A, a Human Resources Specialist, and we think that might be a good alternative for me. No matter where my career goes from here, I am grateful the army brought me to him and allowed me to get paid to write.

The morning after our wedding, we wrote down some short term goals we have that may stretch out into long term ones. However long it takes for us to accomplish them is however long it takes. There is no sprint in getting out of debt unless we miraculously win the lottery… knock on wood. We are in this marathon together. Our mantra is “we will get there,” or “we will make it.” I honor and respect that about us. We will work our butts off, and continue to work when we get there. One thing I admire about his family is that they don’t have to work, but they choose to. They are hardworking Midwest people, and I love them. I grew up seeing my parents work, work, work, and they still made time to love and care for each other and for me and my brothers. Lord knows it wasn’t easy for my parents; neither came from wealth. They made their own fortune which still wasn’t a bunch, but it was more than enough. My parents golfed together, they owned a business together, they raised three kids together, they traveled together – never wavering in love, responsibility or commitment.

I see that being us in thirty years. Still working, still dancing, still worrying, still laughing, still praying, still growing, still loving. I would be lying if I said it will be easy; it’s going to be tough. It’s going to take work. But with that hard work comes reward.

We will ring in this new year and welcome the ride.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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What 2017 Taught Me

I swear I was just on a plane to Joint Base Lewis-McChord, a shy little Specialist Amanda Ridder straight out of airborne school traveling to her first unit, unsure of practically everything you could imagine. I blinked and here I am: Specialist Amanda Ridder about to become Specialist Amanda Baker, a young woman open to a new chapter of her life once again.

2016 was the year I graduated basic, AIT and airborne school. Before joining the army, I was a 25-year-old college graduate living at her parent’s house waiting tables. I took the leap and joined the 1%, and no regrets ever since. And I’m just getting warmed up.

After the whirlwind of 2016, I wasn’t sure how I was going to be ready for 2017! I had conquered my biggest fear yet by volunteering to jump out of five perfectly good airplanes! I set the bar pretty high for myself.

In 2017, I grew to understand that time would open my eyes to even bigger challenges that I never predicted; that Google never told me; that a manual could not teach me. I fell in love and got engaged. I am planning not only one, but two weddings: one here in Washington in 18 days and another in  Missouri on my fiance’s family property next year. This alone goes to show how blessed I am. And yet again, I have set the bar higher.

I can only imagine what 2018 has in store.

It took joining the army to grow up.

Looking back on old Facebook posts and photos, I discovered one jarring fact about myself before I joined the army: I didn’t know what it meant to be an adult until I arrived at my first unit.

Before I was a Soldier, I was ambitious and eager to excel in English, following my love of writing and literature. Receiving feedback on my essays was almost addicting; I couldn’t wait to figure out my professor’s standards and exceed them with every draft.

I was a dance instructor, pushing myself out of my comfort zone of simply being the student. It was one thing to make it to a dance class and follow, but it was another to lead. Simultaneously, I studied and taught yoga.

Then I was a performer, joining a small dance company and participating in late night ballroom dance rehearsals.

I was a traveler. My best friend and I joined a tour group, enduring two fast-paced weeks of visiting seven European countries. Before then, I traveled to Ireland for one week with another tour group, having met no one before the trip. On domestic soil, I flew to Nebraska to read a research paper I wrote for the 2015 Willa Cather Conference.

I was a journalist, an editor of a local newspaper and intern at a Los Angeles based yoga and Ayurveda magazine.

All the while, I was still living under my parents’ roof and reaching my mid-twenties. Despite my hunger to embody what I loved doing – dancing and writing, I could never support myself or keep more than a few extra bucks in my checking account.

Flash-forward to now, I am still struggling financially. I predict that I will be struggling for at least another year, before I finally have it all figured out. I’m no longer under mommy and daddy’s roof; I’m under Uncle Sam’s.

I have much more growing up to do, milestones that have yet to be crossed. The journey isn’t black and white, though. I didn’t leave my childhood behind and begin adulthood when I joined the military. A new chapter began, furthering the tale of my existence that I hope to pass on to the children I hope to have one day.

Even then, I’ll never stop learning and exploring who I am, who I was meant to be, and who I am supposed to be with. I have faith in the journey and everything that is beyond my control.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Remembering the Good Times

For those reading who have gone on deployments and have years of military experience under your belt, you should be forewarned that I’m about to talk about my baby Army moments in AIT.

As for my fellow comrades who suffered the stupidity with me – the strict TRADOC regulations of limited cell phone use, formations, curfew, never walking ANYWHERE alone, etc. – this one is for you.

I’m not gonna sugar coat it – Advanced Individual Training (AIT) had its tough moments. I think I sprouted more gray hairs and several wrinkles after trying to follow every damn rule at Fort Meade than I did in Basic Training. I feel so fortunate to be in a much better place now at Fort Lewis and out of TRADOC!

It warms my heart to know that I’m still connected with wonderful individuals who made the time in AIT fun and enjoyable. It’s also cool to look back at the things I did (like interviewing a NASA astronaut!) and learning some lessons (like turning up my ISO inside).

There are more of you out there in Social Media Land who aren’t mentioned below (this would be too long of a post). You know who are you, and know that I love you and I’m thankful for our friendship.

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Specialist Tricia Andriski, AKA “Driskis,” was the best battle buddy in the world! I don’t know what I would’ve done without her!
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Private “Vidro One-Thousand,” always ready to rock ‘n’ roll.
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Private Kirk, eating a pine cone, being weird and always making me laugh.
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Timothy L. Kopra, NASA astronaut who came to speak at DINFOS Sept. 13. I had the honor of interviewing him and getting an article published on the school’s website! (This is the photo I was referring to when I learned that I need to work on my ISO adjustments…)
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Specialist Claire Charles, a wonderful battle buddy who kept everyone in check and set an example for the young-uns.
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Private 1st Class Danyelle Thompson and Seaman Morrissey putting a smile on my face in the hallway at DINFOS when practicing with bounce flash.
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Our company commander’s puppy cheered me up after a long day!
*reflection
Private 1st Class Amanda Stock was an excellent Platoon Guide and awesome friend.
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Private Josh Weaver, a fantastic photographer and ruck march motivator.

Published in LA YOGA

 

Amanda Ridder Paratrooper Yoga

Breathe through Fear: Yoga for the Courage to Jump from a Plane

“The thunderous roar of the C-130 engines filled the inside of the huge aircraft that was in flight at an altitude 1,200 feet above ground. I stood with shaking legs behind three other jumpers. Every muscle in my body quivered in anticipation. What allowed me to stand strong in this moment was the clarity and focus I found in my ability to breathe through fear because of yoga….”

Read more of my story by clicking the link above in LA YOGA Magazine!

The Booksitter

It’s raining outside my window at the Iron Bank coffee shop on 11th and Broadway in Columbus, Georgia. I have missed this alone time so much. Oh, so much.

Unfortunately, I don’t have any new material for my book or creative pieces to offer at the moment. It has taken me over a week to squeeze in two hours of alone time, to enjoy a cup of espresso and be at peace with my keyboard.

Besides finding time to be alone, I have been searching for peaceful and calm thoughts in a stressful environment.

On my flight here from Maryland 10 days ago, I realized that the next time I would enter an aircraft, I would be exiting it 2,500 feet above the ground with a parachute strapped to my back.

You’re insane, Brain 1 said. Why would you volunteer to go airborne? 

The answers unraveled naturally, as if this entire conversation with myself was an argument I couldn’t win.

The promotion points, said Brain 2. Think about those 30 points! The exciting stories you could cover! The maroon beret and the badassery!

Brain 1 almost won a few days ago when I was cooped up in the barracks all day, thinking about the hazards of my choice. After speaking with a few other soldiers, Brain 2 kicked in and sucker punched Brain 1 to the ground.

So here I am, two days of training and five jumps to go before I graduate from airborne school in the army.

I don’t know what lies ahead in this next week. (Disclaimer: I am ditsy. I may just slip out of the freaking plane or let the jumpmaster push me.)

Besides the stress from my own thoughts mingling with the sight of countless injured soldiers from training, I am back to my main love.

My book.

The poor thing is collecting dust, suffocating inside the locker I store away my life in. My story is like a child tugging on my jacket for an ice cream cone. So badly do I want to pick it up and treat it to a freaking Dairy Queen, but airborne school is taking up so much of my time and energy that I must leave the child with a babysitter. Er, I mean my book… in the locker…

What I’m trying to say is that I haven’t given up on writing the book. It’s there, but to give it the attention it deserves means waiting until I have finished this chapter of my life in training.

I hate sounding selfish and steering away from my book to focus on myself, especially with this self-reflective post. But I cannot give my book the attention it deserves if I haven’t given myself some room to breathe.

I’m not certain if there will ever be a scene or character involving a paratrooper, but some things are bound to find their way into the story through avenues I haven’t even ventured down in my mind yet.

It’ll be exciting when that time comes. I predict that I’ll be celebrating with my two besties, Ben & Jerry.

 

Boxed In: Part 10

This wasn’t what I pictured, Jasmine thought as she opened her eyes to destruction.

Screams rang in her ears. Blood and limbs scattered across the street. A few lone survivors cowered in and out of the alleys. The gray sky blanketed the city of Dublin.

Jasmine turned around to see the Soldier limping onto the sidewalk. She propped herself against a building that was half blown off.

“Well,” grunted Jordan. “Guess I was wrong. Where’s the Ref?”

“Right here,” Shane shouted from a rooftop above. “What the hell, Scribe?”

Despite the dismal view surrounding them, Jordan couldn’t help but laugh at the displacement.

“Sorry,” Jasmine said weakly. She closed her eyes and wrote the word “Down.”

Shane instantly materialized on the street before them. He looked around the street and frowned.

“Thanks. The city didn’t look much better from up there,” he said.

In the gruesome lonely air came a subtle sweet melody. The quiet sound of strings broke the ravaging moment of misery, casting an enchantment upon their ears.

A violinist danced down the remains of O’Connell Bridge, not seeming to care about the water breaking through the cracks. A purple velvet cloak draped over her shoulders, exposing her pale naked arms. The three stared, mesmerized by the magic she produced.

“There’s one,” Shane said. “A For-seer.”

“Wow,” Jasmine whispered. “Her music is so beautiful.”

A moment later, the Musician stopped playing and sighed.

“Thanks,” she said with a soft Irish accent. “But I’ve lost it.”

“Lost what?” Jasmine asked.

The Musician hopped onto a ledge and glanced behind her.

“My power,” she replied.

Without skipping a beat, she continued to play. Jasmine looked at Jordan who raised an eyebrow in annoyance.

“What do you mean?” Jasmine shouted over the music, following her as she crossed over the bridge.

“You know what I mean,” said the Musician eyeing Jasmine’s pen and paper.

“How?” Jasmine asked, stumbling on the broken bridge. “When?”

The Musician led them down the path along the River Liffey which had floating planks of wood and piles of brick stacked above the water.

Jordan and Shane both power-walked behind them. They walked past homes still fuming from the attack.

“We just missed them,” Shane said to Jordan in relief. “The Waiting must be sweeping through the continent. Where do you think they’re going to hit next?”

Jordan looked at him silently with worried, tired and hungry eyes.

“We’re safe here for the time being,” she replied. “But the commander knows where we are. He knows everything.”

“Perfect,” he said sarcastically. “Not to be rude or anything, but weren’t you just trying to kill the Scribe? How can I be sure you won’t kill her, or me, in our sleep?”

Jasmine glanced behind her, giving them a look that said ‘I can hear you.’

Jordan sighed and ignored the glare. This was the first time the Soldier felt like a criminal, a monster, and a failure all at once.


 

to be continued..