Letter to You

 It's Father's Day and we spoke for only a few minutes. There are moments in a marriage where one runs out of words. I miss the moments where touch could communicate everything I wanted to say to you. I miss not having to figure out the explosions in my mind, how to define them, and then releasing them from my mouth. I miss my heart racing, my pulse jumping, my breath catching, because you walked.in.the.door. I miss the way your eyes dance when you're laughing. I miss throwing my head back because you said or did something hilarious. I miss sitting next to each other on the couch. I miss feeling like our lives were moving forward. I hate living, while also being on pause. 

I'm tired.

Who are we in this next chapter? Who are we in this current one? Why does it all feel so confusing, boring, underwhelming, and overwhelming all at the same time? Why do I feel incapacitated, like I can't take a deep breath, because I don't get to see you every day? Why does love feel so unfair sometimes? Why am I so jealous of schools and hope and promise of the future? Who are we anymore, babe? What are we even doing here?

There was such a lengthy period of time where I could answer those questions with ease. Everything felt so clear and focused. I knew the point. I got the brief. We were in it to win it. Then I saw the shit show of the fallout. The decisions that have broken my heart into thousands of pieces and then poured salt in the gaping wounds. There are moments where I used to scream from the mountaintops, tell the stories as loudly as I could. I used to fight for the families, fight for the marriages, fight for the country to understand the reality behind it all. We are not the characters that are displayed on tv. We are so much more nuanced than that. I spent years fighting to make leaders understand what the experience was of the spouses and the kids, the girlfriends and the parents. I fought with all that I could to make everyone's voices heard. I fought until my heart was broken and bruised.

I want our children to understand that while the Army defines its backbone as the NCO, there's no soldier without their family. Period. There's no military fathers without the other half of the equation sitting back in America, while everyone barbeques, holding their crying children, putting on a happy face, hunkering down and just.getting.through.it. While simultaneously figuring out care packages, fighting to keep the connection alive via text, conversation, email, letter.

I'm so tired.

I feel so broken. I feel so drained. I feel exhausted and conflicted and unable to describe with any level of efficiency even the slightest element of how I feel. The minutes take forever to pass, and what has felt like a year has only been a couple of months. War is not for those who have seen too much of it. There's a necessary naivete. I feel angry when I hear people say We have to support this to save the world. I want to scream that they have exactly zero understanding of what that means, feels like, or looks like. Zero. I want to yell how easy it is to state when one's not sitting alone without their absolute favorite human being, for the seventh deployment, for the 102nd (and counting - adding in a separate tour, and not including training) month of sleepless, lonely nights. I'm the one sitting here trying to keep it all together waiting for the day when this current shit show will end and I will be able to take a deep breath and finally fall asleep.

I miss things making sense, then you get on facetime and I lay there staring at you, in the dark of our room, until the sound of your breath makes me fall asleep. I push my aching heart up against the imagination of what it feels like to be wrapped up in your embrace. I slow my breathing and go to the moments where you're hand is interlocked with mine, and everything feels simple and calm. I miss you.

Army Weak

There is a strange mixture of emotions and circumstances that can come to light when you are a military spouse. I am in one right now. My husband is a superstar. He is ethical, moral, loyal, faithful. He works himself to the bone because of integrity and duty to his superiors and his juniors. I adore this about him, and hate it at the same time.

He had been long overdue for a promotion. There were many factors that were a part of this that I won't go into. They don't really matter in the grand scheme, but it certainly affected him psychologically. When the promotion came, his spirit was renewed and his adoration, love, and insane work drive returned.

I love seeing my husband come alive in this lifestyle we live. I love seeing him feel about his job how he felt in the beginning of our relationship. I love hearing about his excitement as he teaches some young dude about tanks. I love how his face lights up at the notion of turning his tank engine on and fiddling around with it. I. love. it.

I hate how much he works. I hate that he works more than anyone else in this company. I don't say that in some pity party way (though I am certainly having many of those moments in my own emotional way), it is just a fact. His position requires it. I am working on processing through these things. It is hard for me.

This is not to say that I don't recognize things could be harder. He has deployed five times, so I think I can pretty fairly say I know what it's like to be apart in that regard. Yes, I realize he could be in Afghanistan or the Sudan or Korea... All of those things suck. The point of this post is not to complain about his time away. And if that's what you think I'm doing, I'm sorry that you don't know me well enough to see past that.

My point here is this is the process of adjusting for the spouse left at home (AKA: me). It. is. hard. And no one really prepares you for this! I miss my mentors who have gone away! I miss having those gals to say: "Oh my dear... he's a platoon sergeant now. You'll never see him! It sucks. But you're not alone. We're all in this together!" I miss them telling me these feelings are normal and you will come through it stronger. I miss that...

I love Chief. I love him something fierce and his walking into my door at 7pm, only to have to go back again at 9 and come back home at 11 SUCKS. It is hard to adjust my brain to being okay/at peace/comfortable with that. And this aspect has REALLY surprised me, America. I didn't expect it. I thought I would breeze into this change with no problems. I haven't. It has brought me to tears many times.

It's a strange place to be. Immensely proud, insanely in love with his dedication. To admire this part of his personality is beautiful. But to be the person who feels like a basket case sucks! And I hate that I am having such a hard time! All of these feelings are completely mine. They are my own challenges to accept and get on board with. I will never discourage him from what he's doing. I will never tell him to stop it. But I won't hide that it hurts either. Because here's the awesome thing about Chief: he's man enough to handle my tears and honorable enough to do his job anyway. He's awesome enough to be able to prioritize his duty to this calling, and his duty to me, and he has this expert ability to balance it. I am amazed by how he does it, but he does.

So, America, I've been having a pity party. I've been feeling kind of sad. I miss my husband. But I am so proud of him. And I wanted to share with my readers who are a bit lower than me (and maybe some who are higher than me but feeling alone), that this too might come across your path. I really hope that when/if it does, I'll still be around to say to you: "This is normal. It sucks. You will grieve. But then you'll adjust and you'll be stronger for it."

Final thought: Feeling Army weak, is the beginning of becoming Army Strong.