On my way...

I can't think of much to say right now because I've seriously been experiencing about a million emotions today. I've been sad, excited, scared, nervous, happy, anxious... I could go on.

Earlier I arrived at CLT airport and began my little adventure. I was on the ground for awhile...

But at this moment I am 34,009 feet in the air, flying to Texas to see the love my life for four days before his deployment begins.

I cannot wait to see him, but I dread the start of this journey of separation that will be much longer than the two months he's been in the states.

In about 12 short hours, I'll be picking up my love... and for now, it doesn't get much better.

Why?

God, can you just tell me why?

The first time I stopped being friends with someone who I considered my brother, it was awful. It took forever for me to be okay with the fact, but I finally was. And then, after realizing that I still had an amazing best friend beside me, that has to stop too. Can you tell me why you let this happen right before my husband enters a war zone? Could you possibly help me understand why I have to feel totally isolated and alone almost all of the time? Would it be terrible if I had ONE friend who I could call or text any time of day and know they'd be there? That I would be there for them? Would the world absolutely end? Are you purposefully also letting me grow attached to these people's families, only to rip those away, too and remind me of what I don't have? Are you trying to tell me that my doctor was right, and that I do need anti-depressants to stablize me instead of support from people I care about and foolishly thought cared about me?

If you could just kindly let me know, I'd appreciate it. Because I don't understand.

Executive

Before I graduated college, I was scared to death.

I had worked at a coffeehouse for seven years with no luck of finding a "real" job, my husband was being deployed to a different country meaning we'll be spending more time apart than together during the beginning of our marriage, my friendships were crumbling, my depression was coming back and aside from a very small amount left over each week after the bills were paid, we were broke.

If someone would have told me back in March when I felt like everything in my life was leaving and falling and crashing that I'd be typing this sentence from my office as the Executive Director of the NCA, well, I wouldn't have even given it the satisfaction of a laugh.

Part of me is terrified that the committee who chose me will burst into my office and apologize for their mistake. I mean, let's face it, what 21 year old is given control of an arts organization? What college graduate can handle it? What kid can pay the bills, organize the school, handle the clients and raise money? They have to have me confused. My resume speaks for its simple self. My lack of professional attire in my closet screams unqualified.

And yet, this morning, it's just me. No apologetic board members. No fashion police giving me a citation for my maxi dress and denim jacket with Rainbows. Nothing.

Wasn't I supposed to work my way up? Ruthlessly climb to the top after years of being a slave to The Man? Was it supposed to be this easy? I mean, I can't fabricate a story about working hard all my life to recieve this title. I've been here ten weeks. I was in the right place at the right time... or rather, God put me in the right place at the right time.

I have to keep telling myself that this goes higher than me. This isn't about my talent, my qualifications, my abilities. This is about me being where God wants me to be, doing what He wants me to do.

I do have a degree. I do know how to do this job. I can't fabricate 20 years of management, but I can do this.

I can do this.

God is good.

Can I just vent?

I just want to cry. I already am, actually but I want to cry harder and it isn't even that big of a deal. I'm probably being dramatic and selfish but I don't even care. My sister moved into an apartment with me while E is deploying and for the most part it's working out really, really well. There have been a few issues that we've had to work through but nothing that isn't typical of sisters trying to share the same space. Before she moved in, she told me that she wasn't a dog walker and that mine and E's dog was not her responsibility... which I thought was a bit harsh but I didn't expect her to take care of her in the first place so I didn't mind. Well, the other day I was running late from work and I called to see if she could take her out for me...granted, we do live in an apartment so she has to put her on a leash and walk her across the road to a grassy field but it's literally a five minute trip if my dog has to go badly and I knew she did. So I get home and my sister acted like she had to build a bridge and knit a leash in order to take her out and told me that she'd never do it again. 


Well also, every time she has friends over, she makes me put the dog up in her crate or shoves her in my room and closes the door because, "I have to respect that she has friends who don't like dogs." ALSO understandable, although this is my dog's apartment too. Actually it's my dogs apartmet BEFORE it's hers. ANYWAY. 


Tonight my mom stopped by the apartment, and I asked her if she wouldn't mind taking the dog home with her for the night because 1) my sister was having people over all night 2) We, including my dog, lived with her until a month ago so she's to her and 3)I would be gone all day tomorrow... 12+hours. I never work that long but tomorrow is a HUGE day. I'm an interim executive director and tomorrow is my first board meeting that I lead... it happens once a month after work. They'll also be voting on whether or not to hire me permanently. Even though they've probably already made their decision, I'm a nervous wreck. I just didn't want to have to worry about leaving work every few hours to come take the dog out. Well, my mom gave me a hard time and I just about burst into tears. My sister and mom were both acting like it just wasn't their problem... and I get that it isn't.... but I just needed some help. My sister knows its a big day and could have said, "don't worry about it. I'll help you out for the night." but she didn't. My mom finally gave in and took her after I just said, "I didn't realize getting help was so hard. I'm trying to handle it on my own, you tell me to ask for help if and I need and you get made when I do. I'll figure it out." I could tell she felt bad but as soon as she left I just burst into tears.


Even now, I'm sitting in my room miserable because I love that dog more than anything. I wish she were here because she really does keep me company. I know Ethan is still in the states but he's still mobilized... he's leaving SO soon and no, we don't have kids, but my God. Sometimes a dog is like a kid! I just needed a little help! I'm having to HIRE someone to watch my dog WHILE MY SISTER IS HOME when I go see him in two weeks for 4 days in Texas before he leaves... I can't believe my own sister won't volunteer to give me a break.




:( I guess when your husband deploys and before he leaves you hear, "don't worry! we'll help you! you're not alone!" you ALMOST believe it until reality smacks you in the freaking face.


And I'm not even going to get started on how she waits until my mother gets here to mention that she doesn't feel like this is her apartment because all my things are here. Guess what? I left the living room empty for THREE WEEKS. If you don't put your pictures out or you don't buy things to decorate, don't get mad when I do. Don't get mad that I put up FOUR pictures of me and my husband when I have no other option but to look at his face on paper instead of in person. Don't get mad when I put my dog's paw print art on the tv hutch when it was otherwise EMPTY. I want to live in a home... not a dorm room! 

51 To Go

It seems like much more time has passed since I last saw E, but it's really only been about a month. It's odd because it feels more like two or three... the time is surely passing slowly.

I've finally started to settle into the apartment and feel like I'm actually "home" when I'm here. Today I purchased accent pillows and picture frames for the living room and it made a world of difference. I also bought this beautiful wooden cross to hang in my living room. In the most exhausting of ways, it somehow convinces me that if I surround myself with reminders of Christ, he'll let my husband come home.

My bedroom is a wreck at the moment, but it's a work in progress. I've found that having things on the wall makes it seem much more like a place to live, rather than a place to sleep. My new favorite thing is a 16x24 image of E & I that was given to me by the photographer who took our pictures right before E left. It's such a bold statement. I just look at it, and remind myself of how it feels to be wrapped in his arms. I call it my favorite place to be.

Today has been rough, though. E and I fought and I hate it. I hate fighting knowing what's at stake. I hate fighting knowing that I'm seeing him in less than two weeks for the last time for almost a whole year.

I also hate knowing that it's Saturday night and I'm by myself. No where to go really, nothing much to do. One day, 51 left to go, I guess.

Ramblings of July 4th

Can I just say that I have never in my entire life been more frustrated over boxes than I have been the past two weeks? In my mind, moving was going to be a very simple process. Pack Boxes, Move Boxes, Un Pack Boxes, Discard Boxes, Enjoy Apartment! Oh, how wrong I was… perhaps I wasn’t as organized as I anticipated? Maybe I packed way too many things without considering that my apartment was pretty small? I think it was a combination of the two. But I also think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I have never moved anywhere in my entire life. I’ve never even switched bedrooms. Since I was a baby, the room in my childhood home has watched me grow and has morphed from a nursery to a little girl’s princess room before changing into a pre-teens awkward shrine to *Nsync and then, after much trial and error, a haven for a college student until finally housing a married couple for six months. It was so good to me. And it was really, really big.

My apartment is collectively bigger than my life-long bedroom, but the actually bedroom is small. The kitchen is pretty small, and the living room is small and the furniture? It's big furniture. Don’t get me wrong, because it is a lovely apartment, it’s just small. And when you combine small – not to mentioned shared – space with lots of things and someone who has never attempted to move things and live in an apartment, well, it can get frustrating. This is why it has taken me over two weeks to finally say that I'm 75% moved in. Yep. Roughly 3/4 of my things are in their proper places and space, with the remaining treasures scattered throughout the house. I went back home today and took a look at the disaster I left behind - literally boxes and crap in three rooms of the house - before realizing it was a holiday and I'd deal with it over the weekend. 

And to be honest, it isn't just boxes that I'm frustrated over. Today is a day that is usually spent with family and friends but I'm home alone watching TV. I can't even bring myself to get dressed, let alone make plans. I want my husband here. It seems like he's been gone for so long and knowing I have 12 more months until he's back is exhausted to try and wrap my head around. 

Work has been stressful, too. I have an interview on the 9th that will determine whether or not I get to stay in my position as Executive Director of the auditorium. I want the job badly... but I feel like I'm setting myself up for disappointment. The BOD probably sees me as a joke. What 21 year old has the desire to be an ED of an arts organization? I do. And I know I can do it. I just pray I can make them see that I'm the best option. 

I just keep telling myself that I get to see E at the end of the month and while it will come with the hardest goodbye we've had to experience yet, it will also come with much needed quality time that I have seriously been craving for months.