Eating Crow

When packing for a trip, this woman has never before though the lobster really did anything. I mean, sure, he'd pack up the car and all of that good stuff, but I always felt slightly resentful, like he got to lay around while I did all the work.

After packing, loading, prepping, and doing all of the work for my current trip, I have come to realize that I am a complete idiot. The lobster does A LOT of work while preparing for a trip!

I am sorry honey. I publicly and freely admit that you do way more in this regard than I ever realized before. As always, I am a basket case without you. :)

Stress

The last time the Lobster left, I had a "first time" experience that left me terrified, then invigorated. I went to the grocery store, alone, with three two year olds, and one four year old. As I was driving to the store, I was praying and hoping that we would get one of those kid carts that holds two children. I was lucky and I managed to snag one. I had one kick in the back pack, two in the cart, and my little Lollipop holding onto the cart. It was exhausting. I was so afraid that I wouldn't be able to do it, but it eventually ended up working out fine. It was the first time I did something major with the kiddos and survived to tell the story.

Tomorrow will be another huge one. I will go through security, board an airplane, maintain the children on the flight, get out of a GINORMOUS airport, catch a shuttle, go to the car rental place, acquire a minivan, and then head on my merry way. I. am. terrified. Everything about this endeavor frightens me. First of all, I HATE flying. It is the scariest thing ever for me. Secondly, the trips have never flown before, so who knows how they'll behave on an airplane! Thirdly, two of the trips don't see very well, and I am scared I'll lose one of them in the airport. Fourthly, it's just going to be hard and tiring.

I'll let you know if I survive. I suppose if this is my final post, then you'll know the stress of it all gave me a heart attack and I didn't live to tell the story.

Please pray for me!!!! I think I can... I think I can... I think I can...

I am sitting here in my living room, with a list of ten thousand things to do, which still has about a hundred things left on it, and I just don't want to move anymore.

I am feeling sorry for myself. Yes I am. I want the lobster here. I want to hear his voice. I want his help. I want his companionship. 

I was roaming around my house looking for my tankers wife sweatshirt (which I can't find) and I ended up curled up in one of his uniforms, sobbing. I just don't want to be without him. I don't function well when he isn't around. I don't work the way I'm supposed to, and everything ends up foggy and chaotic. I know I have so little to complain about, but this is how I'm feeling today. 

I really wish he was here. I really wish I wasn't doing this alone.

Lobster

I never would have believed that I would become one of those hopeless romantics. But here it is so many years in to my marriage and I am one. I am hopelessly romantic. I go for all the cheesy sappy stuff. Romance movies, flowers, poetry, music, candlelight dinners, giggly everything. Maybe it helps that I am hopelessly in love. Maybe that's the biggest factor of becoming a hopeless romantic. Either way, the lobster turned me in to something that I never thought was possible for me: I am girly. I like pink. I like to dress nicely for him. I worry about what he thinks. I giggle and behave silly when he's around. I am hopeless! I am all the things that people usually are before they get married. Mine just showed up after.

I love him so much more than I know how to say. He is SO dreamy! :)

Today is a deep cleaning of the house kind of day. I know you would be so proud of our children. They are all working together and getting the tasks required accomplished. Lolli specifically rallied the troops by saying "Come on everyone! We're a team! Lets get this done together!" All four of them are sorting through everything on the floor by their coloring books and putting it away.

Just now they were interrupted by the discovery of the world's smallest bug. But you know how this all plays out in our home, when bugs are found, and I'm sure you can imagine the screaming and squealing that has begun. The only one not participating is Char and that's because she is like Xena Warrior Princess and she just isn't afraid of ANYTHING.

Their laughter is so refreshing, almost like a cup of coffee after a long night of too much playing. 

What we made together is so beautiful. We are beginning to move out of the constant arguing phase and into the teamwork, collaborative creativity, and overall enjoyment of each other phase. It makes my heart feel so filled with joy. Our chicken nuggets are incredibly amazing. Listening to them laugh just makes this morning feel complete. 

I can't help but wonder how you and I have been so blessed. :)

Crazy Love

Do you ever feel like everything in your life is moving by too fast? If I'm honest with myself (and you), I completely feel this way. It feels like I want everything to just slow down but it's moving at the speed of light and I am really helpless against it all.

My children are so old! Okay, they're not literally old in the earthly definition of terms, but they are quickly rounding the bend towards their next birthday. It really does seem like just yesterday that they were born. It seems like a week ago that the Lobster and I were in the hospital and he was rubbing my forehead over and over again in the same spot and I yelled at him to "STOP TOUCHING ME!" and all of my coaches immediately put their hands up (like they were being arrested) and took a step back. In my mind I wasn't that upset about it, but I was in the process of pushing a baby out into the world, so I completely believe the reports that I was feisty.

I look on my wall, and there is a picture of the lobster and me that was taken the day before we got married. I look at those two people and I wonder if he and I could sit down and talk to them, what would we say? How do you explain eight years to two people who are crazy in love? How do you explain all of the endeavors and experiences that he and I have embarked on, together? How do you say to yourself, eight years younger, you know, it'll be okay. Just remember that. Even when you completely believe with every fiber of your being that is entirely impossible for it to ever be okay again...


When I think back to those times, they seem so close, but yet so far away. I was such an idiot then. I knew nothing about love. I was a complete fool. Love was a contract. It had nothing to do with emotions. It was entirely logic. I got along with him. He was my best friend. I wanted to be beside him forever. So we got married. Yes, I was crazy passionate about him, but it was much more about the logical answer to a math equation than it was about throwing caution to the wind and getting married. I took little risks. Everything was carefully controlled.

There were glimpses, though, of how much I really needed him. For instance, the wedding day itself... It was a terrible day (and I had an ENORMOUS anxiety about anything 'commitment' related). I was already incredibly terrified about the process of the promise. If I'm honest with you, I didn't want to "get" married. I wanted to be married, I just didn't want to have to be a part of the process of actually doing. I wanted to wake up and have the whole ordeal over with. My sisters treated me quite frankly like trash, which aided in the whole horribleness of the day. There was a tornado, so the humidity was just sky high on the fun factor list (you can imagine what this did to my skin and hair...). It was just nothing like what the story of "us" was and is. It reflected nothing of me and the Lobster. But that day, I was so upset, that as soon as he got to the church, I went running out there and I just needed to be alone with him. So everyone else went away and I just talked to him. After I did so, I felt so much better. I needed him then...

Now I can't even remember what it's like to not need him.

You know what's so great about being married? Chicks are emotional. We fret. We worry. We have horrible amounts of anxiety. You know the kind I'm talking about... We don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, and we'll lay awake half the night trying to figure out a way to make everyone happy, even if it means our own misery. We will tell someone something they don't want to hear, and then we'll proceed to panic for the next seven weeks about whether or not we did the right thing, and whether or not that person is handling it well. We toss and turn thoughts and feelings over and over again in our minds. My husband? Not like that at all! He can literally cut through the hurt feelings (or possibilities of letting someone down) and immediately say the truth.

"Is it stressing you out?"
"Yes."
"Then quit. No activity is worth this much emotional effort."


"Do you really like going?"
"Well... no not really, but people expect me to go!"
"Um, then STOP GOING! Tell them I said you can't go anymore. Then it's my fault and not yours."


When I was stressing about homeschooling the kids and the ten thousand activities I was a part of (and knew I needed to step away from to adequately educate our children, but didn't want to let anyone down or make people feel unspecial...) he said:

"Your priority is to me and our children. God is NOT "discovered" or "loved" or "valued" in your morning "Bible" activities. If you are not honoring what I've told you to do in regards to pouring your heart and soul into educating our children, then where is Jesus in your activities?"


Aaaaannnnnndddd sucker punch right to the gut. So I quit. And because he was the one who told me to do it, I was freed from the guilty conscience or the feelings of horrible guilt that I would've had every time someone said to me, "Why haven't you been at so and so?"

My husband makes me stronger. I had a friend tell me a long time ago that submitting to your husband is like walking around under his umbrella. When you are submitting to his direction, then you are protected from the hail and arrows that are being thrown at you by the world, because you are under your husband's umbrella. The hail and arrows will come, but your husband's umbrella will shield you from them.

I realize I have gone far down a rabbit trail. I know I do this a lot. The lobster and I are like a bowl of spaghetti. We are so tangled and connected together that it is difficult to pull one noodle out of the batch, without getting another noodle along for the ride. This is how I like to think of my rabbit trails. :)

Anyway, the point is, of all things, time is going so quickly. I'm afraid to blink, because then we might be on the porch at an old folks home reflecting on our younger years. Oh how I look forward to those days...

Silly Dog Saturday

I love to rough house with my dogs. It's actually one of my favorite things to do. It always starts out the same way. To rough house, you just start rubbing the paws of the Spaniel. She has a very feisty personality and she'll react to it and start doing her play lunges. It always cracks me up. She is incredibly vocal while she plays too. However, this action always causes Jake to get feisty too. He usually walks over, puts himself between me and the Spaniel (he's a bit jealous, attention-wise), and he'll start "talking" to me in his dog way.

When Jake howls (literally, like a wolf, nose up in the air and everything), I. LOVE. IT. Literally. Everytime I say "do it again!" and try to get him to do it again. It instantly makes me laugh, because he looks so funny while he's doing it. His howl is very much so, his announcement that the playing has begun. I have no idea why he does it, but every single time he does. He comes and sits in between me and the Spaniel, howls, and then starts rough housing.

Jake is a chocolate lab and watching a giant, almost a hundred pound, mass of chocolate muscle is so fun. He has this pink pig toy that is the latest love of his life (former ones were birds and ducks). He loves on this toy like it's a puppy. He'll spend hours licking it and cleaning it. He'll sleep on  top of it, holding it in his paws. He is in love. When he is ready to play (after he has howled), he grabs the pig and brings it over. This is phase two of "play with me!" He'll drop it in front of me. Sometimes he likes to play hide and seek (I'll take it and hide it behind my back while he tries to get it), sometimes he wants me to throw it (and he'll run and get it), sometimes he wants to play jump (I toss it in the air and he tries to jump up and get it before I do), sometimes he wants to play tug of war, and sometimes he wants me to shake it in front of him while he chases it all around with his face. We have hours of fun with his pink pig.

This morning we were playing when an accident occurred. We were playing a combination of our games: hide the pig, shake the pig around while he tries to grab it, and jump and catch the pig. In one of the combination moves, somehow my hand whacked Jake in the tooth. He caught my hand right on the joint that connects my fingers to my wrist (I could get technical here, but figured you wouldn't really care all that much about actual names...). He didn't bite me (he never has), he just had his mouth open. Now I will just tell you, this sucker hurts. Even now, it is still hurting pretty badly (hours later). I can barely move my fingers, and my whole forearm is pretty sore (no it's not broken, I know how to tell that, he just bruised me in all the right places). His tooth is okay too (I checked that out already too). When he hurt me though, he immediately stopped all place, sat down and started trying to fix it. I quickly ice packed my hand and it's doing better now than it was before but it's pretty sore.

So this is a bit more of the funny part: my dog is now attempting to "hold" me. For some weird reason, since the lobster took off, Jake has become a hand holder. Seriously. He wants to hold hands. You'll be minding your own business and he'll come over and put his paw in your hand and sit there for an hour. I don't know if this is some physical manifestation of missing the lobster, or if it's just a lab gone rogue, or if the Holy Spirit has told him that this chick needs to have someone to holds hands with, but that's what he does now. As I am sitting here, he is trying to figure out how to hold my hand while I type this blog (without touching my computer). I wish I could video this. It's pretty hilarious.

So in a nutshell, I have a silly dog. He's my baby and I love him tremendously so, but he's pretty silly. :)

Fulfilling Friday

Being an Army wife and having two best friends who are also Army wives, it is unusual to have a night where all of our husbands are catering to the needs of the good ole USA. However, tonight, this very thing has occurred! Tonight it is girls night and I am excited. It's going to be popcorn, wine, and chick flicks around this household. Where will the kids be? In bed! What will the conversations be? Giggly and silly. I. am. stoked. :)

Superman/thankful Thursday

There is a statement that seems to immediately cut through the bullshit that I wrap myself in every day. I have come to learn that stress is very similar to a winter coat. We grow it, we nurture it, we take care of it, and we allow ourselves to be overheated and overworked because of its existence. I will just say though, that even though I know this, I am completely overstressed. I am emotionally exhausted. Yesterday was one of those ugly days that inevitably rears its head during a "dreaded d" (stolen from Ms. GM). Now I am the kind of person that needs to wallow. I need to dive into the festering, ugly, muddy, sticky mess that those days are. I need to immerse myself in it, analyze it, process it, and then move on. Or else, discover what will help me to move on and then figure out a way to get that.

So anyway, the statement that cuts through is "Hey baby!" If you know me, you probably know that there is very little about my personality that would ever allow itself to be anyone's "baby". However, there is one voice that makes that statement and that one voice cuts through the dark clouds that often times follow me around when he isn't home at night, and that one voice raises the sun, melts the frost, and causes the flowers to bloom again.

After having gone a month without a decent conversation with my husband, I was a bit, um, shall we say, crazy? Yes, I know that one month of no communication is nothing in the grand scheme of things. I have gone considerably longer than that without hearing his voice, or having an email, or any written word from him (thank you ground war invasion to Iraq...). I know that being able to talk to him at all is a beautiful gift (that will not be long lasting this time around), and I should not take it for granted. I completely agree. However this past month has been a tester of all things stressful. The kind of stressful things that keep me awake at night worrying and wondering and trying to figure out how to solve them.

I was telling a friend of mine yesterday that when I'm worrying, the Lobster knows that I don't sleep. And he'll do something like tell me "Just lay here and listen to my heart beat." He knows that things like that clear the fog of stress out of my head and help me to fall asleep. One of the lobster-isms that help to keep me grounded in reality. I miss those things.

I have so little to complain about. My husband is alive. He is breathing. He is praying for me, leading me, and helping me in the ways that he can. My husband is crazy in love with me. I am crazy in love with him. My children aren't in the hospital. They aren't having nervous breakdowns. I have a home to live in. I have a car to drive. I have health insurance. My husband has a paycheck to pay the bills. I have a rear detachment team that is amazing and SO helpful and supportive (which as Army spouses know, this is incredibly significant). I am so blessed. I have so much more than the average individual, and I try to focus on those things. Life is too short to be focused on misery all the time. I completely believe that.

On the flip side of that, I have a lot to complain about as well. I have a child losing her sight. I have an autistic, self injuring child. I have a husband who is back in a country that I thought we were done with. I have a year ahead of probably not hearing from him often (if at all). I am staring down the possibility that he just might not come back at all, and everything that we have "planned" and hoped for might change. I spend hours each day trying to help people that are often times never satisfied and quick to point out what I'm not getting done "right". I know I have reasons to feel sorry for myself.

If I'm honest, my stress level is maxed. It just is. It is what it is. I know it's something I say a lot, but it's really the truth. I am over stressed. I am over worked. I am going to burn out quickly if something doesn't change. I also know, though, that I am the only person who can change it.

Okay, so essentially the point is this, today I got to unload all of the baggage that I've been carrying around on the Lobster. Yesterday when I only got ten minutes with him on the internet (mind you this was a ten minute typing conversation where everything is delayed and five of it was spent on figuring out problems with his computer), I started crying and I told him that I just need to talk to him. So he tried to make it so that today I would get to talk to him in the way that I need to. When he said, "Hey baby" I knew that relief was on its way. I said, "I am just SO stressed out! I am SO sad!" He said, "Lay it on me. Tell me what's going on."

You know that moment in superhero movies when the hero makes that totally cliche, irritating comment like "Don't worry. I'm here to help!" and then the girls are all swooning and sighing while the hero saves the day? That's my husband in my world. When he is there to talk to me, and letting me vent, I know that he will give me what it is that I need. I know that he'll listen, or he'll tell me what to do, or he'll pop in that one Lobster-ism that just fixes it all and makes everything so much better. Today was no different. I went on a tirade for 20 minutes. This and that, that and this, on and on, etc etc. At the end of it all, the person who is the stronger of the two, took all of the baggage I've been carrying around, and said, "It's okay now. I'm here to help." and I sighed and swooned and all was right in my world.

So today started off emotional and stressful, but here I am, smiling ear-to-ear, feeling so peaceful. Today I am back to being Lois Lane because my Superman has got me in his arms and the world isn't so scary anymore.

"Hey baby!" knows just how to cut through the bullshit and get right to the point of what I need. I am so thankful for that.

If I am honest with myself, I am glad that this day is finally over.

This morning I am angry. I am emotional and exhausted and done. I am done with this whole process. I feel so burnt out and emotionally drained. My reserves are running on empty.

I know, logically, that this is normal. I know logically that this is all part of the process of separating myself from him, while yet keeping myself attached. I know that the lines of life keep right on drawing forward and it doesn't really matter if his line is superimposed on mine. He is there. I am here. It is what it is. I know all of this logically. I have done this before and I know I'll get through it.

Emotionally... emotionally it's a completely different ballgame. Emotionally I slept terribly last night. Emotionally this morning I can't seem to stop crying. Emotionally I don't want to talk to, be near, see, hear, or communicate with anyone but him. Emotionally I want to pull the comforters over my head or drink myself into oblivion so that I don't have to live this day. Emotionally I want to give in to the agony that is washing over me in this moment, right now. Emotionally I am tired of pretending and hoping. I just don't feel like doing it right now.

I truly am feeling sorry for myself. I don't have any positive tidbits to offer you today. I don't have any love and fluff to dish out. I feel like crap. I am so drained. I miss him.

Lobster

I have noticed a couple of things since you left. The first one, is that I have started swearing a lot. Now I know that you know that I started swearing more before you left, and that right now as you read this you are sitting there saying to yourself "since I left!?" To you I respond with "Hey! Don't judge me! We all have our coping methods!" It's also a bit funny because I think I'm starting in with gateway swear words. I'm not in the big time ones. Oh you know what I'm talking about! The "F" word. The "B" word, and the different variations that have spawned off of those two. I'm on the more smalltime ones: "A**," "Da**" and that's about it. But it's still considerably more than I was doing before and it has somewhat surprised me.

The second thing I noticed is that having friends that really love you makes a world of difference. Having "family" here to be beside me is the greatest gift I could've ever been given. The family that you have given me in this unit, at this post, is beyond all that I could have ever imagined or hoped for. These people are in my life because of God and because of you. If it wasn't for both aspects they wouldn't be here, and how can I not be grateful for that?

I love you Lobster. I miss you. I'll be seeing you...

You can say whatever you want, or refuse to say what you will, but you know that this chick has found a way through your callouses and she's weasled her way into your bones, and now she's swimming in the marrow of your humanity.

How's that for poetic? :)

hodge podge

I have a lot of people in my life that make bold statements. Sometimes I think they do it for shock value. They'll say things like: A certain kind of music is evil. They'll make some huge argument about it, or against it, or for it, and then you'll end up feeling slightly judged and defeated. Fast forward ten weeks and then they're telling you that the very thing they were making you feel so awful about, is their favorite kind of music!

There was a time in my life when this would've made me angry. I would have come to the conclusion that these people were falsely representing themselves, and it would have bothered me to the point of breaking off the relationship. Now I don't know if I'm just getting older or if my perspectives are changing, but I am coming to see this differently.

I think that people present what they want to be true about themselves, a lot online. People tend to view themselves through rose colored glasses. We portray within ourselves what we want to be seen, not necessarily what is. Sometimes this works in positive ways, and sometimes negative. I have come to understand that the truth about who you really are, is on some distant point between where you want to be, are afraid you are, and where others see you at.

Enter rabbit trail:

I have very few people in my life that I genuinely love. Not love in the generic form of that term, I'm talking love in the context that I love talking to them, being around them, arguing with them, supporting them, cheering them up, encouraging them, and pouring myself out to them. To be honest with you, there are currently four people in my life that I feel that way about. Those four people make my days brighter when I talk with them, make my heart swell with joy when they're having a good day, ignite my fighting spirit when someone is hurting them, break my heart with theirs when they're suffering, and are causing me to change. They are like the gravitational pull of a planet. They have drawn me to them and they are swinging me around the back side, and launching me out better equipped than I was before. They're also strong enough to keep my feet planted firmly on the ground, especially when my head starts floating me up into the realm of ridiculousness. They are teaching me that love is fierce, but yet beautiful, and they are showing me that learning to give it out is the most amazing experience. They have given me a base from which to jump beyond myself, because I know the safety net will still remain.

Trying to get back on track and make some final point:

Anyway, the basic jist is that I have come to realize that if you want people to know you, to really know you, then it's up to you to make it happen. My own struggle with this, is that I think there are very few people who I really want to know me. I think I am learning that I prefer to keep the majority of my personality hidden. I need to allow myself to be like an onion. Peeling back the layers sure may cause some tearing and some discomfort, but the meat underneath it is worth it. I am learning that exposing myself doesn't make me more valuable, just like sheltering myself doesn't make me more "safe."

I hate the phraseology of self love. I think it's prideful and foolish and irritating. But yet, on the other hand, I am learning that I have something incredibly valuable within myself, simply because I have the ability to love.

Memory lane. The first "meeting."

You were given block leave right before your first deployment. September 11th had already happened, and our nation was going to war. You called me after having told me for a month that you were going to come and see me, to tell me yet again, that you weren't coming. I remembered by that point getting irritated. I didn't want you to waste my time, and I had no idea what you looked like, so if this wasn't going to happen, then I didn't want to be some stupid girl you talked to on the phone. Especially because it wasn't like I had any shortage of fellas around to pay attention to me.

So when you said that you weren't going to come because you just didn't know if it was a good idea, I was upset. I could tell that you were just scared. You didn't know me, you didn't know if this was going to be a good idea, and you didn't want to invest your pre-war block leave on some chick that wasn't going to put out and was hell bent on her own goals and ambitions. I get it. You had legitimate concerns.

I suppose I was being a brat, but I said, "If you're not going to come here, then I'm not going to talk to you." You said, "Are you serious!?" I said, "Yup." and went dead silent. Now, in your version of these events, I was dead silent for an hour while you begged me to talk to you. In my version of these events (and this is after all my blog, so we'll go with what I recall...) it was only about five minutes. Truthfully it was probably somewhere in between (since we're both a bit melodramatic and we like to make this whole story sound a bit exciting than it was). Either way, the silence was only broken when you said, "I have to go. I'm going to buy a ticket. I'll be there tomorrow." Now this part I remember clearly because I can still remember how I felt in that moment. My heart skipped a beat and I squealed "REALLY!?" You replied, "Yeah. I'll be there. I'll call you back with the info."

Five minutes later you did in fact call me back with your arrival information. It was pretty crazy. I was more nervous than I've ever been in my whole life. I started to half panic.

This half panicking wasn't very helpful, either, as I had my hardest midterm the following morning. It was incredibly difficult to maintain my intense pre-med studying course of eight hours pouring over the books. I think it helped that I was crazy excited to see you.

The next morning, I woke up insanely early. This was partially that I wanted to study some more, but it was also that I was incredibly excited and nervous. In fact, my roommates were making hard core fun of me, because they'd seen me prepare for a gazillion dates and never once did I freak out about how I looked and try on like fifteen outfits and ask them how I looked. However, I must confess, this chick who had never before given a crap about how she looked, was in full fledged "girl" mode: Hair up? Hair down? Eyes? Make up on or off? This shirt or that one? Jeans or something else? Which jacket? Which shoes? They were laughing at me the whole time.

Finally my roommate left for her class, and I was alone. I settled on my mother's vintage orange turtleneck and jeans, with my brown corduroy bombers jacket. Hair was down. No make up.

This midterm was my only real challenging class, so I started to try to hit the books. Truthfully, I didn't study. I think I stared at the same page the whole time. I got up, I sat down. I was anxious. I wanted you to hurry up and get there. I wanted to get this introduction over with. Would I like you? What if you were ugly? What if you thought I was ugly? What if there were no sparks? What if this ended up being a disaster and I had to politely spend the weekend with someone I couldn't stand? The anticipation was killing me.

Finally, after what I am convinced was eighteen thousand hours, you knocked on my dorm room door. I looked through the key hole (I did...I cheated a little... you know this.) and there you were. I was so nervous I almost threw up. I opened the door, and if I remember right my hands were shaking.

What were the first words that sealed the deal between me and the love of my life? Were they some magical phrase, or some romantic gesture? Was music swelling and fireworks going off in the background? Nope! I was met with the horrific smell of a chain smoker. I believe these were our first words (as I remember them): "Hi!"
"Hi!"
"You smell."
"Yeah. Mind if I take a shower?"
"No. Please do."
"Okay."
"There's the bathroom, towels. Do you need anything else?"
"Nope."
"Okay."

The door shut, the water turned on, and my mind was reeling. Only after you started showering, did I start to contemplate if maybe it wasn't appropriate for you to be showering in my dorm room, however I knew that I had done nothing inappropriate, and probably God would allow a person offering a shower to a weary traveler.

You finally emerged from the shower in a long sleeve white shirt and jeans (which we still have...). What did you then say to me?

"You look better without your glasses."

Um...thanks!? And mind quickly spinning into, uh oh... this is obviously a disaster!

"But you're pretty hot!"

And awkward silence...

I think I must've laughed or tried to quickly deflect the awkwardness with something funny, because I don't really remember the conversation after that. The next part I remember was us walking to my mid term, and my professor literally falling in love with you in like five minutes. I remember he bought you a soda, while he fried my brain with the insanity that was my lab mid term.

When I finished the test, we went to lunch, and some Marine reservist pissed you off with their acting like they were high and mighty. It was my introduction to two aspects of the Army: 1. Branch pride. It's fierce and crazy, and I am 100% a part of it now. 2. Active Duty opinions of reservists.

That afternoon we were on the couch in my dorm room  talking, and that night we had our first "date". We went to a modern art show on campus and then out to dinner. I was smitten. I was hardcore into you. There was hand holding, giggling, and trying so hard to be charming. I remembered feeling like I was cloud fifteen thousand and nine the whole time.

It was the beginning of you and me becoming "us". It was awkward and weird, which is kind of who we are, so it was completely genuine to our personalities. It was the only way that should have been. I'm so glad the silent treatment worked and that you came up there. Could you imagine how different our lives would be if you hadn't?

fun memory friday

It was after you and I got back together that we had our first "holiday" as a couple. Needless to say, even though it wasn't an official holiday (and it was a day that I always loathed due to its superficiality up to this point), I all of a sudden became in love with it. I spent hours mulling over what to give you, carefully planning, creating, developing, and preparing to present to you the first ever "Valentine's gift" that I had ever given anyone.

I made you a gift basket. I researched heavily the Armored branch of the Army and heard about how their colors were gold and green. I found a beautiful gold and green ribbon and I decorated the basket with the ribbon. Then I filled it with all sorts of your favorite goodies. A coffee maker, for your barracks room, coffee cups (the giant kind because little coffee cups irritate you), really good coffee, filters, creamer, some other drink items I thought you would like, and the most honest, sincere, heart felt, passionate letter I have ever written to any human being ever. I knew even then, your deep love affair with all things caffeinated, and the gift was a hit. You loved it, and we still have all of the coffee cups even now, so many years later.

I remember when you made me close my eyes, and you came out carrying a giant teddy bear with my favorite flowers in your other hand: Ash roses, which were incredibly difficult to find in the middle of winter in that place where you were stationed. My eyes grew massively large because all of my life I had wanted a giant teddy bear. It was a deep desire of mine, and I was so excited to have this massive, soft, furry thing to cuddle up with at night. It was the neatest experience. When you handed it to me, I immediately gave it a giant squeeze, and I felt something weird hit my neck. Wrapped around the neck of that amazing teddy bear, was the other item that I had wanted all of my life: a white gold cross necklace. This was the most perfect cross necklace that I ever could of imagined. It was exactly what I would have picked for myself: White gold, with diamonds. It was simple, but spectacularly elegant. I started to cry. I had never told you that those were the two things I had always wanted, and yet somehow you knew me well enough to figure it out. You have always been that person, since the moment I met you, the only person who knew exactly what it was I wanted/needed underneath it all. You have always known me. You have always been the only person who has ever really known me, in my completeness.

Who would've known that one year, and one day, from that date, our first child would be born. Three years from that exact date, our three children would be born.

Lolli has been trying to figure out a way to abduct that teddy bear from me since the beginning of her existence. It has slept beside me through every deployment our marriage has faced, and been put away when you come back. That cross necklace has graced my neck through every single day and night that we have ever been apart. I have been faithful, and I have never taken it off. You put it on me when you leave, and you take it off when you come back.

Lolli tried to take that teddy bear today. She said, "Mommy, I'll bring you my pink daddy bear, and I can have your brown one." I said, "No fanna. You can't have my brown teddy bear." She said, "You just need to have it?" I said, "You've been trying to acquire that teddy bear your whole life!" And she laughed and said, "I need it!"

Sweet memories I will always hold close to my heart.

In case you ever forget

Getting to see you, even if it's across the room and I don't get to hear what you're saying... Knowing you're in the same vicinity as me, even if you're completely focused on someone else... Seeing you move and your chest rise and fall with every breath going in and out... gives me butterflies in my stomach, lights up my eyes, and makes even the darkest and coldest of rooms, as warm and as bright as a summer afternoon. 

I still remember the first time I heard your voice. I remember the light in the room, and where I was. I was in my pajama shorts, with a white t shirt on, laying in my bed in my apartment at college. It was night time. I was laying underneath my big off white down comforter because it was freezing cold. Your voice instantly bolted through that phone and dove immediately into my chest. I was smitten at "hello" and devastated at "goodbye". I was never instantly anyone's, but you climbed into my very skin and morphed me into someone I never knew before. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest and the only thing I knew... the only thing that made any sense at all was that I had experienced love at first sound. I previously considered that to be impossible, as I didn't believe in love at first sight, but yet it happened. Magic in that moment, on that night, in that place, and it's been magic ever since then. You have been lighting up my world, making my heart pound in my chest, making me giggle, giving me goosebumps with every touch, and filling me with a love like I never knew was ever possible for me ever since. 

I am yours. Always and forever.

Music is playing in my ears. The rain is pouring down and in the background of this experience lightning is flashing all around me and thunder is roaring. This is the beginning of what sounds like an incredibly depressing scenario. Why do storms always seem so melodramatic? Why can music set a scene, paint a picture, and change an emotional experience?

Sitting two feet from me is my giant chocolate lab. He is the combination of dog, human child, man, woman, mother, puppy, spider, knight in shining armor, lover, and teddy bear all in tiny parts that make the collective. He, quite honestly, is a marvel of a dog.

Right next to him is my other dog Spaniel. She is tiny, neurotic, incredibly emotional, snotty, needy, clingy, and irritating about ninety seven percent of the time. She is also the greatest cuddler on God's planet, and should you ever feel down or lonely or sickly, she will love on you until kingdom come without moving an inch, unless you want her to. I joke that I hate her, but the truth is that at three o'clock in the morning, you would probably find me snuggled right up to her fast asleep.

Did I mention to you that the storms seemed to roll in right after you left? Did I mention that they seem to be worse at night?

I find that the conversations playing out in my mind are a bit ridiculous. I talk to him, even though he isn't here. I tell him things, even though he doesn't hear me. I think on some level I have to believe that he does hear me. I think that when two bodies, two hearts, to souls are enmeshed and intertwined together so that they are no longer just soldered together, but actually rusted together from time, they have to be able to feel each other even from opposite sides of the planet. It's almost like even the poles can't keep us apart. Or maybe it's actually that they're holding us together.

The sand is trying to corrode us. I can feel it burning against our skin, and sucking us dry. Its powers of depletion are intense. It cloaks itself in an armor of heat and wind and before we know it we're turning into sand ourselves. Don't let it get us baby. Don't let it win. Bring on that thunder, lightning and rain, and wash over us and make us new.

Thankful Thursday

Today I am thankful for the internet. As much as there are a thousand things I can't stand about it, I have to admit that having those occasional moments where we are able to connect with our soldiers who are deployed, is a pretty neat experience. I am thankful for great friends who make life so sweet, and a husband who still makes me giggle like a schoolgirl after ten years. I am thankful for four children who are intelligent and healthy.

Lobster

We just got back from running errands. The kids have been acting funny today. We have periods of great cooperation and teamwork, intermingled with dramatic overtures of life (I fell down and so now I'm bawling my eyes out because I landed on my behind).

Right now the girls are dancing around in our living room. This began with Bruni checking her height against Lollipop. She now comes up to just past her chin. Can you believe our little girls are getting so big? Right now I'm reminiscing back to the moment when that precious tiny little set of triplets came out of me and into our big big world bringing with them big big changes. Back then it was all about survival and we were just barely getting through. Everything changed in that moment. Who would've thought that four and a half years later we'd have these little firecrackers filled with excitement and wonder and laughter.

They are giggling up a storm. Lolli is dancing with Charchee and they're all taking turns waltzing around the room. They are finding this all to be quite hilarious.

I wish you were here. I wish you were here to see this moment. I wish you were sitting next to me or dancing in the living room with our daughters. I wish it was all of us partaking in this moment together.

Missing you lobster. Can't wait until we're all together, dancing around in the living room, again.

Woohoo!

This morning has started off with a bang. I woke up way earlier than I expected to (not because of any particular reason, my brain just decided to jolt itself into action), and am finally starting to feel more normal after the sickness wave that has been plaguing me for a week. Maybe that's why I woke up early? Maybe my body was like "YES! We don't feel like we're walking through a fog anymore!"

The kids have been behaving like superstars this morning. In our household, we talk a lot about teamwork. It's sort of our motto. We are a team, and we do things together and accomplish things so much better as a team. This morning, the kids are just grasping this concept amazingly! I am incredibly thankful for it. They're all four working together to solve problems and accomplish tasks. I am loving it!

Lolli, my oldest, asked if she could empty the dishwasher this morning. That's correct, you read it right, she asked if she could do it! The trips are currently taking all of the books off the bookshelf and reorganizing them so it doesn't look chaotic.

Our "to do" list for today includes: schoolwork, tidying up the house, picking up dog food, getting water, doing some laundry, and picking up a prescription. If this morning is any indicator of how this day will go, I am actually quite excited!

sleeplessness

For some reason I can't sleep. I really don't know why that is, especially since I'm exhausted. I kind of feel like talking but I don't really have anything of importance to say. It's not like I have some grand conversation that I feel like elaborating on.

Some things came up today in a meeting that have sort of irked me. They've irked me, but also made me feel slightly paranoid, and I don't want either. I wish the lobster was around to be my sounding board. I wish he was here to tell me if it's something I should worry about or something I forget. I really feel quite lost without his direction...

Have you ever wondered if you've made a terrible mistake, accidentally? I mean, have you ever wondered if something that happened with the best of intentions, is going to inevitably be the downfall of your whole life? Have you ever wondered if the action that you inadvertantly, or offhandedly, did or said today, could cause the detriment of those whom you love the most?

Is it possible to love more than one person completely? It is possible to love one person completely at all? I mean, I think I love the lobster completely, but is that really even possible? I love my children enough to die for them, so is that loving someone completely? Can true love really be divided amongst several people? Or does loving the lobster completely mean I can't love my children completely? Or is the collective love of all of them the complete version of love? And what of my friends? Do I love them completely? Or do I not love them at all?

Love is a complicated word. It comes with all sorts of expectations of action and emotion. It comes with strings attached. It always does. If I say I love you, then my love is attached to my strings of my own version of how to display that love.

Truthfully, I don't know how to love half hazardly. To me love is pretty much all in or all out. Either you love all the way or you don't. Now, yes, I would agree that there are those you love all the way, with some limits placed on it. For example, I love my friends. I really do. I would give anything within my power to give. I would bend over backwards to cheer them up, offer a hand, encourage them, etc etc. However, should the lobster require me, I would always choose him. It's just par for the course. The one who gave me my last name always trumps everything else.

Wow... This is the stuff bouncing around in my head in the middle of the night. It feels like I'll do anything to keep my mind focused on anything but what it's really focused on. Ugh.

I suppose it's back to counting sheep for me...

I'm Glad

Our four children are sweetly tucked in bed. I am so glad that you got to watch us playing today. As much as it hurt you to not be a  part of it. I am glad you got to see them being silly and laughing. I'm glad that this was the memory for this moment, for this day. I'm glad that we got to spend hours talking about stupid things that don't really matter in the grand scheme of life. I'm glad that today it was just you and me and them and us all together. I'm glad that the webcam worked today, of all days. I'm glad that today you told me what you wanted me to do. I am glad that today it wasn't complicated or messy or terrifying.

I'm glad that you love us more than you know how to say. I'm glad that we love you more than we know how to say. I'm glad that our inabilities to say it, don't prevent us from trying.

I'm glad that you have given me the best decade of my life. I'm glad that I get to "officially" say "decade" now without you telling me it's only been nine years and seven months (or however many months it was at the time). I'm glad that you've shown me what true love is, in all of its powerful, messy, and passionate glory. I'm glad that you've given me four beautiful children. I'm glad that you make me laugh all the time. I'm glad that I can make you laugh with tremendous ease. I'm glad that I know you better than anyone else. I'm glad that you know me better than anyone else. I'm glad that we both have aspects of crazy, so that neither of us feels burdened, or too insane at any given time. I'm glad that you are strong enough to carry the weight of my dominance and my submission without skipping a beat or making me feel worthless. I'm glad that you aren't intimidated by my intelligence, nor conquered by it. I'm glad that you know how to fight me, and win. I'm glad that you've taught me how to lose and be happy about it.

I'm glad that you and are a we. I'm glad that our children need not ever doubt that we two kids are crazy about each other. I'm glad that you are my warrior, and I am your maiden. I'm glad that you still call me your girlfriend, even after all these years. I'm glad that you love me with an all consuming, agape form of love.

Even if all of this goes away with one last breath, I'm glad.

I surrender all

Omens can be a scary thing to believe in. They can mean horrible things, if they're actually real. It's a very evangelical perspective to ignore them. The perspective is very much one of irrelevance. God only spoke to the people in Bible times. He stopped talking after the Bible was finished. He doesn't speak anymore. Anything you think you are hearing from Him, is really only your fears or hopes.

In Catholicism this perspective is completely flipped. God is present here and now. He speaks to us through various experiences: omens, visions, scripture, priests, friends. He is actively here and moving. He is actively talking and doing. He is not silent. He didn't stop talking when scripture was completed.

In regards to this subject, I wish the Catholic church was wrong. I wish that I could believe in the notion that God really has become silent. I wish that there was nothing we could hold onto beyond scripture, despite the fact that scripture specifically states that this is not the case (2 Thess 2.15). I wish I could rewind and go back to my days of scriptural confusion and ignorance. I wish I could undo what God has shown me.

The omens and visions that I have received in the past six months are agonizing. They have broken my heart over and over again. They keep me crying out to God over and over again, begging Him for my interpretation to be wrong. I want them to be false. I don't want them to be true.

So when he says to me that he wants me to remember always how much he makes me laugh... When he says to me that for the first time he is not afraid to die... When he says to me that he has complete peace...

Where do I go if he dies? To whom can I plead my case? When even he has found comfort in this midst of what is truly my version of hell, how can I keep on arguing? How can I keep on resisting? At what point do I find the peace to say, "Your will be done. Not mine. You have given me the greatest gift ever, and if it is Your will to take him to heaven with You, I surrender all."

The lobster told me that he believes God is telling me that I have to let him go. He believes this trial in my life is God challenging me to be like Abraham (not that I compare myself to this amazing spiritual leader...) in the sense that he was willing to sacrifice Isaac. He was willing to lose that which he held so dear.

The trouble is that if it's God's will for the lobster to die, it doesn't matter if I'm willing or not. He will die... God knows that I will never leave or abandon Him. He is my most sacred of treasures. Wild horses couldn't drag me away. He is ultimately all that I have always had, and all good and beautiful gifts in my life are direct results of His generosity.

So where am I in the mess of all of this? My body feels numb and my heart feels weak. Faith is all that keeps me standing. Because truthfully, I know, that regardless of what comes my way, I am not now, nor will I ever be, forsaken.

I am learning what having a family really means. My husband said something recently about learning to understand why Christ said that anyone who loves his father or mother more than Him is not worthy of Him. He was saying that he believes I am currently in a set of circumstances about learning how to do this.

I will admit to you, that having the lobster lead me spiritually is a completely brand new thing. Quite honestly, it has only been since we have become involved in Christ's church that this spiritual awakening within him has begun. I love it. It's bizarre sometimes, but it's a change that I love. To see my husband growing in God and having the power and might of God dwelling within him is humbling. It's also uplifting.

I will be honest and say that I have very few people who really know me. The majority of the universe knows the persona that I seem to quite adequately portray. The woman who is black and white, ferociously argumentative, hell bent on getting her way, and will fight anyone who attempts to disagree with her. There are very few, a select few, who have been blessed with the ability to discover me beyond this persona. They have come to know the intense individual underneath all of that. They have come to understand what I genuinely mean, even when others portray that type of behavior. They have come to know the real me.

It's funny because the lobster challenges me SO much. He literally guides me in almost everything I do. So when he tells me to do something, people are literally shocked by the notion of me obeying it. I suppose it's because I portray such a persona of "no one's going to tell me what to do". They literally don't believe that the lobster could say "go" and I would go. Or that he could say "Don't go" and I wouldn't go.

When I began travelling down this incredibly uncomfortable aspect into Christ's church, I was intensely argumentative. I felt so uncomfortable and angry with God. I felt like everything I 'knew' about Him was no longer true, and I began to be filled with doubt and despair. To join this "church" was like joining the devil himself, and it was entirely contrary to my nature.

It's crazy the way I feel now. What I have seen to be true, now. It's like having worn blinders for your whole life, and finally having them come off. It was also strange that the lobster was the one who seemed to see the truth so much more quickly than me. Perhaps it is true to the nature of women being weaker. I am weaker. I freely confess it. That's one of the reasons why having a husband is so beautiful. He is stronger than me, and stronger than the emotional tides which seem to pull me in and throw me out. He is steadfast.

I feel like a child. As much as that sensation is foreign to me, it is also beautiful and exciting.

Brun

I have an autistic child. This is a fact that is sometimes forgotten within my universe. I must admit, that even I sometimes feel like she is so close to "normal" that I hope that maybe they were wrong or that she has outgrown it. Usually there are little things that remind me, but I must be honest, that nothing comes close to the moments like what we endured tonight.

She was in the bath and she had to go to the bathroom. She said so, and I said that she would have to get out of the bath and sit on the toilet. "I don't want to mommy." Normal child arguing with her mother, fine. No biggie. She was near having an accident so I turned the water off, and told her to get out. A normal child might throw a tantrum. Usually my children don't, but even still, her persistence in arguing isn't entirely impossible for a four year old. I lifted her out of the bath, and it began. Biting herself, scratching herself, punching herself in the face, slapping herself over and over and over and over. I tried pinning her down, and she is strong enough that she literally bruised me, scratched me, and injured me. I tried wrapping her in a  towel to do a compression hold (this usually works with her), and she pried herself out of it, slipped out of my grasp, and proceeded to bash her head in to our tile floor over and over again, until I was able to grab her off the floor. She was screaming as if she was fighting for her life, but the main person she was injuring was herself. I was finally able to get her pinned down in her bed, under her comforter, with her arms literally pinned under my entire body weight, while she screamed and screamed and screamed. Forty five minutes passed. The lights were off, and my autistic child is bleeding from her scratches, while I do everything I can do within my power to keep her from hurting herself. I tried silence. I tried whispering. I tried singing. Nothing worked.

I was emotionally exhausted by the time she finally quieted down. Finally her illogical reactions ceased and it turned into a heavy cry. I asked her if she was afraid, and she nodded her head. I said who are you afraid of? She said, "Me."

Now, up until this point, I had managed to keep myself from crying. I had maintained a calm disposition because autistic children (and mine in particular) react to emotion. The more upset (or reactive) you are, the worse their behavior becomes. However, when she said that she was afraid of herself, what parent can maintain composure? I was afraid of her too. I was afraid of her hurting herself in a way that couldn't be fixed.

I know I am blessed to have a child who understands as much about her autism as she does. She understands that her brain works differently, and that her circuits seem to go haywire. She understands that she does things that could seriously hurt herself, but that she can't control them. So what do you say to a child who understand that their brain doesn't work like yours and mine? How do you comfort a person who is afraid of herself?

Despite all that I know about how this is out of my control, and how I can't change this in her, I always end up feeling defeated and like a failure when these experiences occur. I always end up feeling like maybe if I'd carried her longer, or she had a better delivery, or she wasn't a multiple, or she wasn't in the NICU so long, or a thousand other "or's" then everything would be different. I always wish I could preempt this type of experience and save her from it. I wish there was some special touch that always worked, or some sound that would work, or some cuddle that could snap her out of it and bring her back.

Perhaps because she understands what has happened in hindsight, maybe she and I can work together to figure out how to prevent this from happening. I have always wondered if they have service dogs to help autistic children. It seems that service dogs can help with so many other things, but does anyone know if they can help with sensory deficient autistic children? I don't know. I suppose it's the only thing that I ever end up thinking about as a solution. I suppose it feels like we've tried everything else.

She is such an amazing child. She truly is a piece of heaven. What I would give to change her circumstance...

Dorothy

I'm a pianist with no piano. I have no keys to pound away the agony that is playing within my heart. I have no music to write, no song to sing, no sound to make. Just the click click clicking of my keys on this keyboard and the tick tocking of the clock on the wall. It's reminding me of every second that you are not here.

And this melancholy is beginning to make me nauseous. I am sickened by my addiction, and purging myself seems to be impossible. Giving up and letting you go renders me crippled. The withdrawals are the things that wake people up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, begging and aching for it to end. 

Where the hell are you? 

It's a question that permeates the darkness in my mind, and the damn you for doing this to me response is deafening. 

You are the itch I can't scratch. You are the fists I can't relax. You are the marrow in my bones. You are the voice in my tone and the strength in my gut. You are the ocean, and I am the shore and you keep crashing against me. What if one day you don't do it anymore?

So lets just dust off the old shelf of this chicken chick's passions, and lets all pretend like everything's fine. Lets smile and say how we're puttering on by and lets engage in superficial bullshit conversation so that we can completely ignore the volcano erupting in the background because you're. not. here.

You're not here.

And that damn clock is still ticking and my fingers are still clicking on this keyboard and my heart is still aching and the sun just can't seem to rise fast enough, just to prove that this night has ended. 

The dread in my chest is making it difficult to breathe. The heaviness is forcing my muscles to work in ways they don't want to. And maybe I'll just sit here and write until the sun comes up so that I can prove to myself that I can make it through. Or maybe I'll curl up in a ball in the darkness and hide. 

The thing is that you're not here to turn on my flashlight. You're not here to startle me awake, and the night becomes an ugly experience when your heart beat isn't drowning out the noise of everything going on around me. 

Truth is I become screwed up when you're not around. And all the imagery that your strength has built up in me fades away, and the wizard that oz has come to appreciate so whole-heartedly disappears. All that's left is the cowardly lion, the heartless tin man, the feeble minded scare crow, and dorothy just wanting to go home...

Lobster

It's been eight days. I haven't touched your skin in eight days. In the grand scheme of things, eight days is nothing. I've spent incredibly longer without touching your skin, but in this moment, on this night, eight days feels as long as forever.

Everything feels so mundane. The reality of my daily existence continues on whether you come home at night or not. The children still need to be fed, educated, bathed, clothed. The house still needs to be cleaned, cooked in, cared for. The dogs still need to eat... My daily experiences continue on. I'm still mom, home maker, caretaker, giver... 

I find, often times, that the little things are what cause me to miss you the most. Things like watching the movie that came just a few days before you left. Things like having to take it out of the DVD player and put it in the envelope and then walking it to the mailbox. Those things are so minor in the grand scheme of life, however, to this woman, those things are everything. They are simply put, agonizing because you are not here to do them. Isn't it funny how it's like that? Such stupid, silly things, and yet so upsetting and unsettling.

The truth of things is quite simply that I am afraid of being without you. The idea of living in a world where you aren't in it, or where you don't love me, is the most agonizing of all notions. You love me like no other human being has ever even begun to understand how. You understand me, all of the faces and personas that I wear, and you understand why I wear them. You embrace my insanity and my intellectualism and my creativity. You encourage me to go out and pour out love on anyone and everyone that I see who needs it. Your love has set me free.

God knew that I would wait for someone to love me for so many years. God knew that you were the only person who was genuinely, happily, and perfectly capable of doing it. You love me in the most perfect of ways. This is how I know that your love for me comes only from God. Quite honestly, He is the only one who is capable of showing you how to do it. It is because I love Him, that I am able to recognize you for who you are, and to love you with every fiber of my being.

So to go back... to go back to being scrutinized, ignored, taken for granted, controlled, manipulated, demeaned, disrespected, misunderstood, patronized, is a nightmare. To not have your strength and your wisdom and your affection telling me when to stop allowing people to lay their guilt trips on me is terrifying. Quite honestly, you are my strength. I know that so many "christians" would call this heresy, but it's because they don't understand God. God made me for you. He knit me together just for you. While he poured in all of the ingredients of my life, personality, character, and emotion, He knew that He had already made you. He knew that you and I would be joined together as one. He knew that you would be the key that unlocked my hidden away self. 

I am afraid of this world without you in it. I am afraid of not having you here to fight my battles for me, or to give me the courage to fight them myself. I am afraid of not having you here to cheer on, and to confer with. I am afraid of having to make decisions without your wisdom.

I'll be seeing you...

Lobster

Truth is it feels like you're fading out of our home too quickly. Washing your clothes and putting them away is disheartening. Seeing your closet filled up and knowing that none of those clothes will be worn is heartbreaking. Putting your last pair of socks away was silencing.

I washed your camelbak today. The one you drank from before you left here. It was strangely painful. I'm sure that everyone else around me would think that I'm insane. I don't like the idea of you not dirtying anymore of our dishes...

I will admit that I am surprising myself. I thought I'd feel so differently than I do. I thought I'd be disintegrating more than I am. Especially based on the evidence of how I was before... Truth is, there are about two hands worth of things and people that I care about right now. All of them are connected to you. Everything else...

I don't have anything to give. I know that people want me to. I know that they expect me to just get over it and snap out of it and just be what they always are used to me being: supportive, compassionate, caring. I just don't give a shit. I'm not interested in playing family politics, and pretending to care about an event that at this moment I don't care about. I don't have the emotional fortitude to go along with the facade that they actually care about me. I am always amazed at how revealing deployments are... The people you thought were your best friends, the family you thought were your greatest supporters, the people you thought didn't really care about you...

I am incredibly angry. I have never felt so abandoned by the people I have poured the largest amount of my emotions into. I am embarrassed. I am ashamed that I have spent so many hours defending them to you. I am humiliated that you so wisely have said time and time again that they rarely show any thought or affection for me, but I give and I give and I give and I give, and am abused and abused and taken for granted. I always thought you were wrong.

God I wish you were here.

You have no idea what doing the dishes was like. It was a mess. Really. I had to stop a few times just to collect myself. Isn't it strange how the most random of circumstances trigger intense emotional outbursts?

I dreamt about you last night. I didn't want to wake up.

Tomorrow will be our first day at church without you. I actually wish I could be there now. I wish I could sleep there. I wish I could immerse myself in that place. For some reason in that building, near that altar, I feel safe. I feel protected from the horrors of what are before me. I feel like reality can fade away, and all the other nonsense disappears.

Can't wait to hear your voice. I love you. I'll be seeing you.

I have basically been incredibly busy this past week. I am thankful for it. My days have literally been go, go, go, until we get home and then it's been bed time, and right back at it. To be honest, I needed it. Slowing down gives me time to ache, and while he is incredibly worth aching over, it's agonizing.

This deployment has re-introduced my fingers to the art of penmanship. You see, we won't have the internet (at least not reliably) and phone communication will also be shotty at best, so my lovely fingertips get to experience the pleasure of holding a pen and writing words. I know that for some younger people in the audience, penmanship is going out with cassette players and some of you may even have to google the word "penmanship" just to find out what it means.

I miss him. I haven't talked to him in days. Yes, I know this is the norm. Yes, I know this is the life. Yes, yada yada yada. It doesn't mean I have to enjoy it. I am not sitting around and going "YES! One more day without hearing him say he loves me! WOOHOO!" I hate it.

The kids wanted to look at pictures and our D day pictures were on my phone. Basket case tears immediately started flowing. Those were the last moments that his face was next to mine, and his arms were around me. I hate saying goodbye. I'm just not that good at it. I don't excel at it, even though I seem to do it often.

So much is bouncing around in my head. The basic jist is that this sucks and I miss him.

It's funny how when they first go, every thing is so vivid. Your mind can recall so clearly their face, their eyes, their sounds, smells, touches, warmth. You remember it so clearly that it seems like he was there just a second ago. It's agonizing. It hurts like hell. You almost wish you could forget as if the forgetting will make it hurt less.

Later on, however, those memories fade. What takes root are the photographs. The photos become the memories. The frozen frames. The experiences of stubbly skin, warmth and kisses, fade from the mind. You can no longer recall it like it just happened a moment ago. And in that time, it is terrifying. You are afraid that they're being erased too quickly and too easily. You are terrified that they'll die and you'll only be left with pictures.

Dead. It's a final, ugly, agonizing, four letter word. 

I know that you'll come home. One way or another your body will come back here to this place where I am. 

I try to figure out how to describe you... I keep trying to write and write and write so that I can have you inked, tattooed, and stained on my mind... Or maybe on my fingertips. I don't know. I have always spoken things so much more clearly when they're spewing out of fingers. My mouth tends to switch in to a different frame... It focuses too much on things it maybe shouldn't. I have always been better on paper.

You are gone. It's cemented with a finality that I scarcely recognize. I have never been in this set of circumstances before. It feels like your spirit isn't here anymore. It's like you left and every single aspect of you left with you. I keep looking and waiting for the haunting of your ghost to surprise me...

I feel lost in suspended animation. I feel frozen in time. I feel like I'm just waiting... Waiting for the door to close and for the news to hit. Waiting for the finality. I feel lost. I feel numb. I feel catastrophic. I feel silent. I feel like fighting. I feel like quitting. I feel like crying. But yet nothing comes out.

I feel like putting on my shoes and running until I collapse. I feel like telling my heart to stop beating just so I won't have to face it.

I miss you.