It's my favorite time of day here where I live. I wish I could describe to you the scenery before my eyes. The mountains are blacked out because the sun is no longer shining on them. Outlining the tops of the mountains is a slight golden hue from the sun, which gradually fades up to a beautiful sapphire sky. The breeze blowing on my skin and a glass of lambrusco in my hand makes this picture complete. I love moments like these. I am blissfully happy. How lucky am I that I get to be encompassed by this picture?
Life is all a matter of perspective. Even the brown turns beautiful at some point. The question is always, are you paying attention?
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
I do it for me
I am so sick of drama. I mean, seriously. I have been wallowing in my own melodrama regarding the Lobster's deployment and I am sick of it. Seriously, chick. Put your big girl pants on, soldier up, and drive on. I am sick of feeling sorry for myself. Yes it will suck. Yes, it won't be fun. But I will survive. I completely reserve the right to start feeling depressed again here at any given moment, but for right now, I am pepped up. I am ready.
I stepped up my workouts this morning. I think I had leveled out and quite frankly, I was bored with PRT. So, in a sense I am still doing it, but it got too easy and boring. I needed to make it harder. I love to ache. I seriously do. Maybe it's one of the sick and twisted aspects of my personality, but I thrive on sore muscles. I thrive on pushing my body to do what it doesn't want to do. I love the feeling of nothing being able to stop me. When I am working out, I am my own worst enemy. There isn't anyone there forcing me to do anything. It is entirely a battle of wills. Who will win? My will or my desire to quit?
I think, here recently, I have been reminded of my old self. I have been reminded of my ferocious, gonna-get-it-done, competitive, driven self. While she had aspects of herself that I don't miss, there are many things that I do. Driving myself to prove a point is sort of one of them. I think I have become too passive in my "older" age.
So anyway. Long story short, yes, I am still working out. Every single day. Do I do it for anyone else? Nope. I do it for me.
I stepped up my workouts this morning. I think I had leveled out and quite frankly, I was bored with PRT. So, in a sense I am still doing it, but it got too easy and boring. I needed to make it harder. I love to ache. I seriously do. Maybe it's one of the sick and twisted aspects of my personality, but I thrive on sore muscles. I thrive on pushing my body to do what it doesn't want to do. I love the feeling of nothing being able to stop me. When I am working out, I am my own worst enemy. There isn't anyone there forcing me to do anything. It is entirely a battle of wills. Who will win? My will or my desire to quit?
I think, here recently, I have been reminded of my old self. I have been reminded of my ferocious, gonna-get-it-done, competitive, driven self. While she had aspects of herself that I don't miss, there are many things that I do. Driving myself to prove a point is sort of one of them. I think I have become too passive in my "older" age.
So anyway. Long story short, yes, I am still working out. Every single day. Do I do it for anyone else? Nope. I do it for me.
Monday, March 14, 2011
R.A.J.
I hadn't thought about you in a few days. Isn't it just like life to remind me? Isn't it interesting that the words I find so extremely impossible to say out loud, started coming out of my mouth on the tiniest scale to a friendship unexpected?
When I got my tubes tied, I was told it would be impossible for me to get pregnant. I was told that the connecting tissue between my ovaries and the ability to fertilize them was severed.
To be honest, I don't really know what I was thinking. I was so afraid, I was so messed up. I was so exhausted. When I think back on that pregnancy... Perhaps it was one of my own personal war experiences. It was a pregnancy drug laced with death. From the very beginning that's all it was. Death, death, and more death, all tongue tied up in my body. I lived like a ticking time bomb. I was never allowed to be alone. I was not allowed to lift anything heavier than a cup. I wasn't allowed to pick up my child. I wasn't allowed to sit up for longer than five minutes. I had to be baby sat when I showered, or used the restroom, or did anything at all.
"It will take two minutes for you to bleed to death."
"Make out your will, this pregnancy will probably kill you."
"Make arrangements for your daughter if you don't come out of this alive."
"Baby A will probably die, if 'it' makes it to delivery."
Abortion was never an option. To explain to you the deep disdain I have for abortion...I would never kill my unborn child. I don't care if he or she was ectopic, or if "they" say he or she would kill me... I don't really care. My God is bigger than "you" or any army that you could drag in front of me and if He thinks it worthy of my death to bring forth new life then so be it.
I held to that opinion when I carried them. I honestly don't know what on earth I was thinking. Why did I think I could sever the ties that bind? Why did I think it's what I wanted? I wish I had the answers. I remember when they wheeled me into the operating room, I was crying uncontrollably. I was playing over the possibility of my child never seeing me again. I was holding onto the baggage of those seven months of torment. In that foolish frame of mind, I did the only thing that I have ever deeply and sincerely regretted.
When I came out of the haze that was that period of my life, sorrow overwhelmed me in regards to my actions. A deep spirit of repentance washed over. I was so broken. I was sincerely wrong. I prayed and begged God to forgive me. I begged Him to heal my body and to undo the stupid thing I had done. I know that He is bigger than even the greatest of my sinful actions. I know that He could allow me to carry another beautiful life, if that was His will. I know He is bigger than what I had done. But I recognize that my action was about control. My action was a representation of a belief that my perspective, my desire, my "decision" was better than what His plan was. In essence, I thought I knew better. If that isn't the greatest display of wickedness then I don't know what is.
I can't tell you how many times I have knelt before His throne, in complete repentance, desperate for Him to fix me. I also knew, and completely resigned myself to, the possibility that He would never undo my actions. I deserved to suffer. I still do.
When you came along it was the last thing I expected. I suppose I had closed the door on that possibility. But all of a sudden, there you were. Growing, living, thriving, in me. You were my secret. You were our secret. Your daddy and I decided to wait before we spoke up. I think he was afraid you were ectopic. I think I just wanted to thrive in the private and beautiful knowledge of your existence. I didn't want to deal with the stupid comments that people would inevitably make, "Do you think it's another set of triplets!?" or "Wow. What if you have triplets again?" So it was just the three of us. My body was acting crazy. I was nauseous. I was hungry all the time. I was sore. I was tired. But it seemed to be that God had undone my wickedness.
It was an early Sunday morning, when you left. The pain of you leaving startled me awake. Despite all of the physical sufferings that I have endured...that pain was unique. It was intense. I still remember your daddy asking what I wanted to do. I still remember him saying that we didn't have to go to church if I didn't want to. I still remember bawling my eyes out in church.
I have been told that the fact that you were conceived at all, means my tubal ligation didn't "stick". I don't really know. Truth be told, I was never supposed to conceive you are any of your brothers and sisters. Each of you have been beautiful miracles.
I suppose I can't help but wonder... did you leave because of my wickedness? Did I bring about your loss? Was God punishing me? Or were you simply just not meant to be?
I wish you were here. I wish I was holding you right now.
When I got my tubes tied, I was told it would be impossible for me to get pregnant. I was told that the connecting tissue between my ovaries and the ability to fertilize them was severed.
To be honest, I don't really know what I was thinking. I was so afraid, I was so messed up. I was so exhausted. When I think back on that pregnancy... Perhaps it was one of my own personal war experiences. It was a pregnancy drug laced with death. From the very beginning that's all it was. Death, death, and more death, all tongue tied up in my body. I lived like a ticking time bomb. I was never allowed to be alone. I was not allowed to lift anything heavier than a cup. I wasn't allowed to pick up my child. I wasn't allowed to sit up for longer than five minutes. I had to be baby sat when I showered, or used the restroom, or did anything at all.
"It will take two minutes for you to bleed to death."
"Make out your will, this pregnancy will probably kill you."
"Make arrangements for your daughter if you don't come out of this alive."
"Baby A will probably die, if 'it' makes it to delivery."
Abortion was never an option. To explain to you the deep disdain I have for abortion...I would never kill my unborn child. I don't care if he or she was ectopic, or if "they" say he or she would kill me... I don't really care. My God is bigger than "you" or any army that you could drag in front of me and if He thinks it worthy of my death to bring forth new life then so be it.
I held to that opinion when I carried them. I honestly don't know what on earth I was thinking. Why did I think I could sever the ties that bind? Why did I think it's what I wanted? I wish I had the answers. I remember when they wheeled me into the operating room, I was crying uncontrollably. I was playing over the possibility of my child never seeing me again. I was holding onto the baggage of those seven months of torment. In that foolish frame of mind, I did the only thing that I have ever deeply and sincerely regretted.
When I came out of the haze that was that period of my life, sorrow overwhelmed me in regards to my actions. A deep spirit of repentance washed over. I was so broken. I was sincerely wrong. I prayed and begged God to forgive me. I begged Him to heal my body and to undo the stupid thing I had done. I know that He is bigger than even the greatest of my sinful actions. I know that He could allow me to carry another beautiful life, if that was His will. I know He is bigger than what I had done. But I recognize that my action was about control. My action was a representation of a belief that my perspective, my desire, my "decision" was better than what His plan was. In essence, I thought I knew better. If that isn't the greatest display of wickedness then I don't know what is.
I can't tell you how many times I have knelt before His throne, in complete repentance, desperate for Him to fix me. I also knew, and completely resigned myself to, the possibility that He would never undo my actions. I deserved to suffer. I still do.
When you came along it was the last thing I expected. I suppose I had closed the door on that possibility. But all of a sudden, there you were. Growing, living, thriving, in me. You were my secret. You were our secret. Your daddy and I decided to wait before we spoke up. I think he was afraid you were ectopic. I think I just wanted to thrive in the private and beautiful knowledge of your existence. I didn't want to deal with the stupid comments that people would inevitably make, "Do you think it's another set of triplets!?" or "Wow. What if you have triplets again?" So it was just the three of us. My body was acting crazy. I was nauseous. I was hungry all the time. I was sore. I was tired. But it seemed to be that God had undone my wickedness.
It was an early Sunday morning, when you left. The pain of you leaving startled me awake. Despite all of the physical sufferings that I have endured...that pain was unique. It was intense. I still remember your daddy asking what I wanted to do. I still remember him saying that we didn't have to go to church if I didn't want to. I still remember bawling my eyes out in church.
I have been told that the fact that you were conceived at all, means my tubal ligation didn't "stick". I don't really know. Truth be told, I was never supposed to conceive you are any of your brothers and sisters. Each of you have been beautiful miracles.
I suppose I can't help but wonder... did you leave because of my wickedness? Did I bring about your loss? Was God punishing me? Or were you simply just not meant to be?
I wish you were here. I wish I was holding you right now.
Manic Mondays
Mondays are one of my favorite days of the week. I know that this perspective is abnormal. I realize that the majority of Americans hate Mondays with a passion. I, however, do not really understand why.
Okay, I understand in the cognitive, I-have-the-capability to logically hear why, but my thought process works like this: if you really hate what you're doing so much that you can't stand to go back to it, then why do you work there? I know that every individual has to earn a pay check so that they can live. What I don't understand is why folks aren't a bit more imaginative about what they like. Why don't people create environments for themselves that they enjoy? Is it that people are inherently self destructive? Do we have a need to resent our lives, feel sorry for ourselves, and so we then surround ourselves with things that make us irate? Or is it that we just don't really think about it and the process of life has brought us to this place by chance?
I say, if you don't like it, change it. If you need the money, then change your perspective so that you enjoy it. If you're going to spend the majority of your time doing it, you might as well get comfortable! :)
Okay, I understand in the cognitive, I-have-the-capability to logically hear why, but my thought process works like this: if you really hate what you're doing so much that you can't stand to go back to it, then why do you work there? I know that every individual has to earn a pay check so that they can live. What I don't understand is why folks aren't a bit more imaginative about what they like. Why don't people create environments for themselves that they enjoy? Is it that people are inherently self destructive? Do we have a need to resent our lives, feel sorry for ourselves, and so we then surround ourselves with things that make us irate? Or is it that we just don't really think about it and the process of life has brought us to this place by chance?
I say, if you don't like it, change it. If you need the money, then change your perspective so that you enjoy it. If you're going to spend the majority of your time doing it, you might as well get comfortable! :)
Saturday, March 12, 2011
What grace looks like
Have you ever had a failure kind of week? You know what I'm talking about...the kind where it just seems like you can't do anything right, and all of your flaws and imperfections are screaming at the top of their lungs at you. Despite my cheery disposition and my outpouring of all things emotional deployment, this has been my week. Last night all of these things came to a head in my self and one could say I sort of disintegrated.
I used to have so much "potential". I used to be ear marked for something "big". I used to be smart. I used to have all of the answers. I used to read grown up books. I used to be physically active. I used to dance. I used to have a body that I enjoyed. I used to not be lazy.
My husband and I were in bed, ready to go to sleep. He turned the light off and I have no idea what triggered him to ask me, nor what triggered me to unload, but he said, "Are you okay?" The next thing I knew, everything was coming out. All of these feelings that I had almost forgotten how to experience were flowing out of me. "I used to be somebody. I used to have goals and ambitions. I used to be smart. I used to know how to argue. I used to have something meaningful to say. I used feel useful. I used to fight people when I thought they were wrong. I am so lazy. I am a terrible mother. I'm a horrible wife." He interjected here that I was not a horrible wife, and then I proceeded to tell him how I was. The house has been a mess lately, the dishes not cleaned, I have barely cooked for my family. The stupid laundry hasn't been completed. I am rarely home, and when I am home I am exhausted. I always say the wrong things. I think I make him look bad at his work. I am too outspoken. I feel so unmotivated. I feel so unhappy. I feel so angry with myself, and what am I going to do if he doesn't come home? I can't seem to get things done the right way with him here to help, what the heck am I going to do if he dies?
When my forty five minute self deprivation finally ended, and the crying took over, there was nothing but silence. I thought he might be angry. I think I might have wanted him to be angry with me.
I said, "Are you angry?"
He said, "No. I'm in love."
Grace is the most beautiful of all gifts and the greatest of all comforts. That beautiful man who decided to give me his last name has single handedly, in four words, taken all of my feelings and wrapped them up, covered in grace, and replaced them with love. I am so unworthy. I am so blessed.
I used to have so much "potential". I used to be ear marked for something "big". I used to be smart. I used to have all of the answers. I used to read grown up books. I used to be physically active. I used to dance. I used to have a body that I enjoyed. I used to not be lazy.
My husband and I were in bed, ready to go to sleep. He turned the light off and I have no idea what triggered him to ask me, nor what triggered me to unload, but he said, "Are you okay?" The next thing I knew, everything was coming out. All of these feelings that I had almost forgotten how to experience were flowing out of me. "I used to be somebody. I used to have goals and ambitions. I used to be smart. I used to know how to argue. I used to have something meaningful to say. I used feel useful. I used to fight people when I thought they were wrong. I am so lazy. I am a terrible mother. I'm a horrible wife." He interjected here that I was not a horrible wife, and then I proceeded to tell him how I was. The house has been a mess lately, the dishes not cleaned, I have barely cooked for my family. The stupid laundry hasn't been completed. I am rarely home, and when I am home I am exhausted. I always say the wrong things. I think I make him look bad at his work. I am too outspoken. I feel so unmotivated. I feel so unhappy. I feel so angry with myself, and what am I going to do if he doesn't come home? I can't seem to get things done the right way with him here to help, what the heck am I going to do if he dies?
When my forty five minute self deprivation finally ended, and the crying took over, there was nothing but silence. I thought he might be angry. I think I might have wanted him to be angry with me.
I said, "Are you angry?"
He said, "No. I'm in love."
Grace is the most beautiful of all gifts and the greatest of all comforts. That beautiful man who decided to give me his last name has single handedly, in four words, taken all of my feelings and wrapped them up, covered in grace, and replaced them with love. I am so unworthy. I am so blessed.
Friday, March 11, 2011
What If
Here it is nearly one o'clock in the morning and I can't sleep. I wish I had something profound or meaningful to say. I don't have much. Tonight I am just hurting.
What if he doesn't come home? It's one of those questions that to say out loud is almost like screaming a dirty word in the middle of a church service. Tonight I am asking it. Tonight I am mourning the very possibility of it. What if he doesn't come home to me? What if these moments are the last ones? What if these kisses are our final ones? What if my children, our children are spending their final days, hours, minutes with their daddy?
What if I'm not good enough to do this alone? What if I'm not smart enough, or clever enough, or good enough at communication? What if I don't have all the answers or the ability to see things from their perspectives and talk them through it? What if I fall apart and don't know how to put myself back together again? What if I have to plan his funeral? What if his last breath, his final thoughts, his dying whisper is nowhere near the vicinity of where I am? What if I am given a flag instead of warm open arms?
What if? To fathom it is intense. It is emotional. It is ugly. To have it happen is a nightmare that truthfully I cannot comprehend. What if?
My husband told me once that he imagined I would be that woman who would not let go of the coffin in order for it to be buried. Truthfully, I have no idea.
Who would comfort me in that nightmare? What words would help? Does writing this here, now mean that it won't happen to me? Where would I be standing when they came to tell me? Would I believe them? Would I scream? Would I fall? Would I sense that he had left me here?
I hate war. I hate death and destruction. It sickens me.
I know I can make no bargains with You. I know that what You allow in to our lives is for Your glory. I promise You that I will be faithful to You no matter the cost. I will praise You even in the midst of intense suffering, but please don't take my love away.
What if he doesn't come home? It's one of those questions that to say out loud is almost like screaming a dirty word in the middle of a church service. Tonight I am asking it. Tonight I am mourning the very possibility of it. What if he doesn't come home to me? What if these moments are the last ones? What if these kisses are our final ones? What if my children, our children are spending their final days, hours, minutes with their daddy?
What if I'm not good enough to do this alone? What if I'm not smart enough, or clever enough, or good enough at communication? What if I don't have all the answers or the ability to see things from their perspectives and talk them through it? What if I fall apart and don't know how to put myself back together again? What if I have to plan his funeral? What if his last breath, his final thoughts, his dying whisper is nowhere near the vicinity of where I am? What if I am given a flag instead of warm open arms?
What if? To fathom it is intense. It is emotional. It is ugly. To have it happen is a nightmare that truthfully I cannot comprehend. What if?
My husband told me once that he imagined I would be that woman who would not let go of the coffin in order for it to be buried. Truthfully, I have no idea.
Who would comfort me in that nightmare? What words would help? Does writing this here, now mean that it won't happen to me? Where would I be standing when they came to tell me? Would I believe them? Would I scream? Would I fall? Would I sense that he had left me here?
I hate war. I hate death and destruction. It sickens me.
I know I can make no bargains with You. I know that what You allow in to our lives is for Your glory. I promise You that I will be faithful to You no matter the cost. I will praise You even in the midst of intense suffering, but please don't take my love away.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Soldierly advice. Can I get an amen? :)
Dear Sirs,
Let me just lay a couple of things out on the table for your understanding. We (Army wives) know that your job requires you to go away. We are aware that you have to deploy for your job, that you don't want to go. We really are quite intellectually capable of processing this information. I promise!
Let me just give a tip to you newbie deploying soldiers (and if this is your first married deployment, then you're a newbie). When your wife is crying because she is going to miss you...DO NOT say to her, "I have to go. It's my job." (All Army wives are collectively nodding their heads in agreement, probably giving out a "mmm hm!" and shaking their heads.) It is the WORST possible statement to ever tell your wife in that moment. Please also do not assume that she cannot handle your deployment, doesn't trust that God will take care of you, or is disintegrating before your very eyes. Let me announce something to you that perhaps you have never thought of: if she isn't crying, then you have something to be concerned about. Seriously. If I start to get emotional about my lobster leaving me for 365 DAYS (you really have to shout that amount and say it in a movie announcer voice in order to get the full effect), and I stop myself, in my head, and say: "Don't cry. It's his job! God is going to take care of him. I am Army strong!" and then proceed to never shed a single tear... I promise you that in a matter of a few days, he will seriously believe I no longer love him.
To be honest, you want us to cry, you need us to cry. It's sort of like your counterpart releasing her emotions on both of your behalves, and it also reminds you that we love you very much. What I wish that you could make me understand is this: why do you all say all the wrong things when we're crying? Let me just tell you this, because it is so simple and not complicated at all. When your wife cries, you hold her, kiss her, dry her eyes, hand her a tissue (Why is this critical step almost always missed by dudes? When girls are around each other, we also hand out tissues. It's almost like instinct!) and tell her over and over again "I will miss you too. I don't want to leave you! I have no idea how I will get through this year. This sucks." That's it. You don't have to remind her it's your job (TRUST me, the wonderful Army does not allow her to forget what your job is), or that God has you all in His capable hands.
Please also acknowledge that her suffering is real. Her agony is intense. You have no idea the amount of strength it takes to be here while you're there. She is angry, she is helpless, she is hurt and she is scared, and those feelings fluctuate based on her current moment, her current feelings and whether or not she is processing your deployment. You have a real opportunity here to stand up and be her man. Do you realize that? Stop feeling guilty for leaving. It doesn't help her and it doesn't help you. Stop being mad at her for her emotions. Again, it doesn't change the situation you're both in, together, even though you'll be worlds apart.
Please use caution when making statements like: "I want to deploy." To be honest, I always only hear those words from the mouths of fellas who have never deployed, or who hate their marriages and want to get away (with only one exception... KK). Even if you are eager to "do your job", do not say it in front of your wife. You know why? This is what we hear: "I can't wait to get away from you!" Seriously.
For those of you who also have children, just think on this: if you have ever spent 24, 48, 72 hours or more with your spouse gone and you all alone with your children... are you realizing the mountain that she is facing? I went out of town for a weekend and left our four kids with their pops (my grandma died). He literally almost fell apart. I kid you not. My house was a disaster, no laundry was completed, the kitchen was a mess (and I have no idea how that occurred since they did nothing but eat out), and he seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown by the time I got back. His first words to me, I believe were "Do not ever leave me again." Sure, he said it with a smile, but still! It drove the point home, being at home with children alone, is extremely difficult. Your wives have even GREATER justification for bawling their eyes out at random moments. You just need to stick to your party line, "I will miss you too. This will be so hard. I have no idea how I am going to get through this year away from you." That's what she needs.
Finally, allow her to be your support too. Even if you are eager to deploy, and excited about doing your job, you do have moments where you get scared, or you feel sad. If you don't then you're either a liar or inhuman, and neither of those are wonderful options. Lean on your wife. Give her the opportunity to comfort you. Allow her to hold you too. I promise you that we are not SO weak that we can't put on our big girl panties and comfort you with the same sayings that we need from you when we're upset. Let us hold you, and if you feel like crying then do it! It helps us to see that it hurts you to be away from us.
So this is my advice for those of us who will soon be saying goodbye. You're going to fight. You're going to cry. It's going to be ugly. Just remember, you're feeling all of these ugly feelings because you love each other. In closing, absence really does make the heart grow fonder, and you will survive this. These are just some lessons my lobster and I have learned throughout our four deployments together. I am not really excited about number five coming up. :-/
Let me just lay a couple of things out on the table for your understanding. We (Army wives) know that your job requires you to go away. We are aware that you have to deploy for your job, that you don't want to go. We really are quite intellectually capable of processing this information. I promise!
Let me just give a tip to you newbie deploying soldiers (and if this is your first married deployment, then you're a newbie). When your wife is crying because she is going to miss you...DO NOT say to her, "I have to go. It's my job." (All Army wives are collectively nodding their heads in agreement, probably giving out a "mmm hm!" and shaking their heads.) It is the WORST possible statement to ever tell your wife in that moment. Please also do not assume that she cannot handle your deployment, doesn't trust that God will take care of you, or is disintegrating before your very eyes. Let me announce something to you that perhaps you have never thought of: if she isn't crying, then you have something to be concerned about. Seriously. If I start to get emotional about my lobster leaving me for 365 DAYS (you really have to shout that amount and say it in a movie announcer voice in order to get the full effect), and I stop myself, in my head, and say: "Don't cry. It's his job! God is going to take care of him. I am Army strong!" and then proceed to never shed a single tear... I promise you that in a matter of a few days, he will seriously believe I no longer love him.
To be honest, you want us to cry, you need us to cry. It's sort of like your counterpart releasing her emotions on both of your behalves, and it also reminds you that we love you very much. What I wish that you could make me understand is this: why do you all say all the wrong things when we're crying? Let me just tell you this, because it is so simple and not complicated at all. When your wife cries, you hold her, kiss her, dry her eyes, hand her a tissue (Why is this critical step almost always missed by dudes? When girls are around each other, we also hand out tissues. It's almost like instinct!) and tell her over and over again "I will miss you too. I don't want to leave you! I have no idea how I will get through this year. This sucks." That's it. You don't have to remind her it's your job (TRUST me, the wonderful Army does not allow her to forget what your job is), or that God has you all in His capable hands.
Please also acknowledge that her suffering is real. Her agony is intense. You have no idea the amount of strength it takes to be here while you're there. She is angry, she is helpless, she is hurt and she is scared, and those feelings fluctuate based on her current moment, her current feelings and whether or not she is processing your deployment. You have a real opportunity here to stand up and be her man. Do you realize that? Stop feeling guilty for leaving. It doesn't help her and it doesn't help you. Stop being mad at her for her emotions. Again, it doesn't change the situation you're both in, together, even though you'll be worlds apart.
Please use caution when making statements like: "I want to deploy." To be honest, I always only hear those words from the mouths of fellas who have never deployed, or who hate their marriages and want to get away (with only one exception... KK). Even if you are eager to "do your job", do not say it in front of your wife. You know why? This is what we hear: "I can't wait to get away from you!" Seriously.
For those of you who also have children, just think on this: if you have ever spent 24, 48, 72 hours or more with your spouse gone and you all alone with your children... are you realizing the mountain that she is facing? I went out of town for a weekend and left our four kids with their pops (my grandma died). He literally almost fell apart. I kid you not. My house was a disaster, no laundry was completed, the kitchen was a mess (and I have no idea how that occurred since they did nothing but eat out), and he seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown by the time I got back. His first words to me, I believe were "Do not ever leave me again." Sure, he said it with a smile, but still! It drove the point home, being at home with children alone, is extremely difficult. Your wives have even GREATER justification for bawling their eyes out at random moments. You just need to stick to your party line, "I will miss you too. This will be so hard. I have no idea how I am going to get through this year away from you." That's what she needs.
Finally, allow her to be your support too. Even if you are eager to deploy, and excited about doing your job, you do have moments where you get scared, or you feel sad. If you don't then you're either a liar or inhuman, and neither of those are wonderful options. Lean on your wife. Give her the opportunity to comfort you. Allow her to hold you too. I promise you that we are not SO weak that we can't put on our big girl panties and comfort you with the same sayings that we need from you when we're upset. Let us hold you, and if you feel like crying then do it! It helps us to see that it hurts you to be away from us.
So this is my advice for those of us who will soon be saying goodbye. You're going to fight. You're going to cry. It's going to be ugly. Just remember, you're feeling all of these ugly feelings because you love each other. In closing, absence really does make the heart grow fonder, and you will survive this. These are just some lessons my lobster and I have learned throughout our four deployments together. I am not really excited about number five coming up. :-/
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