This week has been a week of clarity. I feel like I’ve had a little time to breath, some time to relax, and zero time to fold laundry. It’s okay though, I’ve become an expert digger of the clean laundry pile in front of the dryer. Idan and I had a lot of one-on-one time, and I’m discovering how very much alike we really are. He has impeccable taste in clothing, shoes, and nail polish. He’s become my favorite shopping buddy! My crazy emotional flight has come to a safe and solid landing now that we know for sure that my husband won’t be coming home early and moving us to _____. As much as I miss him and want him home yesterday, I know that this is best for him, for our family, and for my blog 😛 I get to enjoy my new floors, my friends, and my church for 10+ more months. I’ve gotten some awesome suggestions of activities to do, and I’m so excited about them! Thank you so much to all of my friends and followers who have sent emails, texts, and tagged me in facebook posts! This is going to be so much fun! This week’s activity was to act out the ultimate walk of shame. Everyone who’s experienced dorm life knows what the meaning of the phrase is, but my friends and I have given it a little twist. What’s more shameful than a humiliating public apology? Why, doing it dressed as a ghetto Marilyn Monroe, of course! So, without further ado, thanks to the creative genius of Michelle D. and the crazy billboard apology on I20 Eastbound from 6 Flags, my dude-friends’ crazy ex girlfriend stories (specifically Zach A, Alex O, & Coley H), and with the help of my equally silly videographer, Nicole H. — Here it is, folks:
The Ultimate Walk of Shame
Please continue to pray for the safety and wisdom of my husband, our troops, and all of their families who love them from the states. You guys are all amazing for your support, and I couldn’t thank you enough! So, until next week, send your crazy to me since I’m going there anyway!
For the past few weeks, things have been a bit off. Back in May, I got a call from my husband, informing me that he and the other troops on his base were being sent home by the end of this Summer, and that we’d have to move when that time comes. I feel like I just got into a groove of excepting the separation and planning for the year ahead, and then this new news flashed on my “Crazy Military Life-isms” list. I was tossed into a brand new whirlwind of emotions and things that needed to get done. I thought I’d have another year to enjoy my friends here, and Cole would have to start school in a totally new place, and I’d have to paint the house and contact a property manager, and should I refinance for the lower interest rate and term on the house still? What about the plans for a 2nd car? And of course, the biggest question: Where are we going? These questions and more were haunting me constantly. When I came home from Florida, I didn’t even want to get my house ready for company. It didn’t seem like it made any sense to me if we were going to be moving in just a couple of months. Why allow myself to continue to be attached when we were going to leave here so shortly? I started distancing myself immediately from my friends here. I felt like I couldn’t take another painful goodbye just yet. Then, my husband told me to basically take a chill pill. He told me to keep living life normally until we get a green light and written orders. Silly me…getting all worked up and there weren’t even orders on the table. Even when there are orders, the military can change their mind at any second. But I feel like I haven’t been able to get back to myself yet, since his initial phone call about re-deployment possibilities. If he comes home sooner, then that means this deployment doesn’t even count as a deployment. He faces the inevitable promise of being sent right back over there shortly after returning to the states. If he stays a little while past, at least to the 6 month mark, then he has guaranteed stability when he comes home. All of these what if’s and what not’s have had me thinking way too much. I think I’m finally realizing just how much time I’ve had apart from my husband since we first got married. It’s pretty ridiculous, and now that anger towards __?__ is coming back. I’m not really sure who to point the finger at, but I know that what’s done is done, and I can’t go back and change any of our previous separations…and I really have no control over our future ones either. So, I’m just angry for it all. I trust that God has a bigger plan for us, but right now I’m just thinking, “Come ON! I’m so tired of this already!” My faith is unshakable, my hope is in the Lord, but my flesh is weak, fragile, and hormonal. I’m crying, then laughing, then angry, then numb. But, at the end of every day, when I crawl into bed alone and stare at the empty right side, I ask myself, “Is it all really worth it for this man that I married at 18 years old?” and I immediately answer myself, “Absolutely, it is.”
My activity this week!!! White Water Rafting on the Ocoee River in Tennessee!!!
My girlfriends, Sam and Michelle, came up from Tallahassee, and we had a blast together! Because of this thrill ride, I’m actually hanging up my wuss hat, and trading it in for a parachute. This mom is ready for sky diving!!! Coming soon, to this blog…I might wear a Supermom cape.
2012 – the year that I went White Water Rafting with my girlfriends…
Until next week, send your crazy to me since I’m going there anyway!
I took a break for a while to coast on into the next phase of deployment, which is to revisit familiarity. I packed up the boys and headed south to Florida to see my family and my husband’s family. My house was in disarray from the flooring project, a lot of my friends were out of town, and I just needed a break from it all. I also craved a sense of normalcy. I know I’m not alone in this particular type of endeavor. Lots of military spouses do this. We think that being around the family will strike our familiar bone and make us feel like everything makes sense for a bit. But, more often than not, that craving goes unsatisfied when it’s time to pack the car and head back to reality. When we leave home, time doesn’t stand still for the family we leave behind. They create a new normal, and we just aren’t part of it anymore. It sucks to finally admit that, and we relearn it every time we strike the match only to watch it fizzle. My trip was definitely not bad. It just wasn’t normal. I was still very aware that my husband wasn’t with me and I tried so desperately to connect in a way that made me feel like it was okay that he wasn’t there. It wasn’t okay. I wanted him there and needed him there, but he wasn’t. The kids wanted him there. Instead of feeling comfort, I felt constant reminders that I was alone.
I came back home a couple days early so I could get my house cleaned and ready for my friends to visit, but I came home to even more reminders of my absent other half. Ice cold feet at night, Heavy furniture, electrical wiring confusion, issues with the company that sold me faulty flooring. He would never have problems with taking care of any of this stuff. In a desperate effort to keep my husband present through this absence, I always ask myself, “What would Chandler do?” and try to mesh it with what I would do. But, I just can’t do the things that I know he would do, because I A)don’t know how or B)don’t have 67 inch biceps and testosterone that could put out a raging fire. I mention over and over again that I have amazing friends here that have bent over backwards to help me, and I appreciate them more than words can even begin to express. But, they just aren’t my husband. There is no replacement for him, not even me trying my hardest to think like him. I wish I could beam in Future-Cathi, and have her tell me what I should have done so I’d know what to do right now, but I don’t wanna mess up the time-space continuum. My husband would definitely not approve of that.
So, yes…it’s been melt-down central over here. I’m grateful for friends who don’t try to stop me from crying, for not trying to give me advice in the middle of it, and for allowing me to move on from my tears into an inappropriate joke because that’s just the way I cope with things. Dirty humor dries tears and heals pain…I’m pretty sure I heard an old lady say that once. Now that I think of it, I think it was Future-Cathi that told me that. Dang it! I forgot to ask her something important!
With my time away, I’ve had way too much thinking and not enough blogging. So, I recovered by doing my activity for the week, suggested by Meagan G. It was to fill a jar of Mayo with vanilla pudding and eat it in a public place.