61 Weeks and R&R

Hello Blog,
I’ve missed you these past few weeks, but all for a good reason. Y’all, my man was home! I spent weeks upon weeks imagining the moment when I would wrap my arms around him again, and the day finally came.


There are things that most military wives don’t like to share with the non-military community. These things are just not easily understood unless you’ve lived through them yourself. I’ve been tossing this around for a few days. I’m not sure how to word it or if it can even be put into words, but I’m going to try. I created this blog to be honest and to allow the regular civilian world to experience this whole process through me. So, keeping my recent struggles to myself would be going against exactly what my purpose was in starting this project. So…about R&R…

First of all, my husband has his own story, so I’m not going to speak from his perspective or even try to touch on what War has done to his mind, body, and spirit. I can only speak on what it’s done to me. These past 2 weeks have shown me a lot. It actually feels like it was just a dream when I try to look back on it. I feel like I did everything right and by the book. I tried to keep the house clean, had an equal mix of eating out and at home, allowed time for him to be with other people, set aside time for just the 2 of us, allowed him to step in with the kids as he saw fit, kissed him every chance I got, prayed over him while he slept…I feel like I did it all right, but I knew, every time that it wasn’t going to be enough.

I always cringe a little when people tell me that my job as an Army wife must be so hard. It always makes me feel so uncomfortable, because I think of being my best friend’s wife, and that’s not hard at all. It’s actually quite easy to be married to him. But now I’m finally admitting that this is really hard. It’s hard, and I’m in way over my head. I’m so mad. I’m so I credibly pissed at the Army right now. I’ve always been supportive of the military as a whole, and I’ve always been patriotic, but I honestly think it’s gone. I trusted the Army with my husband, and they did not care for him the way they said they would. It’s like they locked him up in a box, within a box, within a box, tied it up in a thousand strings, and then dropped him off at my doorstep with a “Good Luck” grin.

I was able to pet my box, hug my box, and toss it around with the kids. I displayed pictures of my box on Facebook, invited friends to visit my box, and toted my box around for a night on the town. I loved waking up to my box in the morning and kissing my box goodnight. I enjoyed cuddling with my box and watching my box enjoy every bite of my cooking. I love my precious box, but I really just wanted to open it up like Christmas morning and enjoy all of the wonderful things inside. Every time I tried to snip one of those strings, 2 more grew back. I can’t open my box. It’s mine, it belongs to me! Why can’t I just freaking open it? It’s so unfair. Yes, I realize that I sound like a little kid having a temper tantrum right now, but that’s exactly how I feel. It’s not fair, and it breaks my heart, and it’s not fair and it makes me so mad!

I wanted to just take an ax to the dang box and go to town on it or light it on fire and watch those strings burn off, but I can’t do that. That’s where the job of the Army wife is hard. I have to sit, silently and patiently, waiting for those strings to untie themselves. I can’t cheer when it happens either, or they’ll become shy and tie back up again. I have to wait and pray as the layers shed off slowly, and in the mean time, I need to keep my feelings to myself, as not to upset my box. Also, no one else knows what’s inside of the box but me. I’m the only one who’s seen the contents of the box, within the box, within the box, so no one else sees anything wrong with the picture. So, I’m just this crazy lunatic that’s worried about the contents of my box being damaged. I can’t talk to my box about this issue, and no one else sees any problems. So, I sit with this anger, and I sing hymns to comfort my own troubled soul. And I wait. I wait, and I wait, and I wait. So yes, this job is hard. I agree with anyone who makes that statement. I love being my husband’s wife, but I don’t like this Army Wife MOS anymore, and I just want my husband back. I’m officially declaring my stance on this War as cotton-pickin’ stupid, and I’m over it.

6 thoughts on “61 Weeks and R&R

  1. You put that so well. I understand exactly what you are saying and hope that someday your box will open. Sending prayers up for you and your family. Keep fighting the fight and hang in there.

  2. 🙁 I’m sorry that you (and other army wives) have to go through this…
    I hope that your box will allow the strings to be untied and shine from within…*hugs*

  3. Wow. I never was able to put into words what you just said here. You put it perfectly. Keep hanging in there. My box opened for me slowly over time after being diagnosed and treated for PTSD. After my box explained to me things done and seen over seas it’s no wonder they shut up tighter than Fort Knox. While I’m happy to say he has opened and is more relaxed and gets along better now, he’s still not the same. Person he was pre-Army.

    Hang in there though, it will get better! 🙂

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.