It would be completely unfair to finally come back to my blog months after my last post with a lengthy update full of excuses as to why I stopped writing. To make it very simple with little to no shame, I got really depressed and I didn't feel like writing. Depressed, you might ask? Why would I be depressed? After all, last I wrote, my husband was on his way home! Isn't that one gigantic ball of reason to do nothing but write about how absolutely happy I was? Probably for some people, yes. But for me, I struggled. For the past two months, I've struggled intensely but I've realized that isn't a reason to stop writing. So starting this week, I'm going to sit down at least once a week and write a post about the bigger events that have happened since I abandoned my little blog on May 1st. Here's to getting back on the writing wagon, y'all.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Almost there...
There are so many things I haven't written about but that I've felt over the past few months. I've struggled with this deployment in a multitude of ways and in others, I've conquered the waiting game in stride.
But tonight, there aren't many words needed. I fully intend to pick my blog back up in the next few weeks and begin documenting our journey of marriage, but the next time I do, it will be a different kind of post.
Right now, E is on his way home from work. I've been waiting a year to say that and it feels weird to type and sounds even more odd rolling off my tongue. Within a matter of days, not months, my better half will no longer be an ocean apart, and not much longer after that, he'll be right where he belongs... he'll be home.
But tonight, there aren't many words needed. I fully intend to pick my blog back up in the next few weeks and begin documenting our journey of marriage, but the next time I do, it will be a different kind of post.
Right now, E is on his way home from work. I've been waiting a year to say that and it feels weird to type and sounds even more odd rolling off my tongue. Within a matter of days, not months, my better half will no longer be an ocean apart, and not much longer after that, he'll be right where he belongs... he'll be home.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Soon.
So many changes are coming my way in the next 50-65 days... and I've been so overwhelmed by them all that I can't quite articulate what's even happening in my life right now. The last bit of this deployment has been the absolute hardest but the end is in sight and that's really all that matters I suppose. Hearing from my husband is still the highlight of my week most of the time, but with each phone call comes more emotion than before. We're so close to homecoming but still, so far away from it all.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
I'll never come to terms with that.
I'll never be okay with...
...not having friends.
...living in this town.
...not getting a chance to start over.
...staying at my job.
...being alone every weekend.
...being someone people pity.
...losing zero weight in a month.
...having no one to talk to.
Like seriously. I'll never fully come to terms with any of that.
...not having friends.
...living in this town.
...not getting a chance to start over.
...staying at my job.
...being alone every weekend.
...being someone people pity.
...losing zero weight in a month.
...having no one to talk to.
Like seriously. I'll never fully come to terms with any of that.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
He Told Me I Was Fat
It's no secret that I've struggled with my weight for a really long time. In high school, I struggled with an eating disorder and since I can remember, I've always been a yo-yo dieter. Liquid diets? Tried 'em. Slim Fast diet? Done it. South Beach? Well, I attempted it. You name it, I've at least researched the hell out of it.
Why? Simply because I'm the word no one wants me to say out loud, but they're thinking it inside their head.
And I don't have to wonder why. I can tell you why. Because when I was 8 years old in the third grade, a boy named J.R. told me that I was fat. I know exactly where I was standing, I remember exactly what I was wearing: blue jeans, a long sleeved white tshirt and a yellow vest. I don't think I'll ever forget that day.
And ever since, I've known. Before that day, I was clueless. If you looked at me now you might not believe me, but until the summer before middle school, I was easily the tallest kid in my class. I towered over the girls and the boys had to look up to me just a little by default. I hit puberty early on in life and while my flat-chested friends joked about stuffing their training bras with tissue paper, I logically decided that if I could just figure out how, I'd trade my body with them in a heartbeat.
Looking back at my third grade self, I can most confidently assure you that I was not, even by my own critically high standards, fat. I was very tall and my body was developing much differently than my peers. I was six months older than most of my classmates and those six months made a big difference - no pun intended. I was active in sports, cheered for the Startown Tigers and played softball for the "purple" team - whatever that was.
My stomach was flat but you couldn't see that under the baggy clothes I started to wear. My legs were toned but I never wore shorts because, fat girls don't wear shorts. I began to despise gym because I just knew they would make fun of me for trying to do the things small people did. I had long legs and I could run swiftly, but I was terrified to. So I didn't.
And from that very moment in third grade when a boy told me exactly what I was, I became that.
I knew that boys would not be attracted to me because I wasn't thin enough and I was just too tall. I knew that fat girls didn't play sports, so just after I nailed my back handspring for the first time, I stopped cheering. I didn't have anyone at home telling me to play outside, so I didn't. I was a latchkey kid, I did what I wanted to and I did what I thought I was supposed to do.
By the time I was old enough to know any better, the damage was done. I began to fit the lifestyle of what I had been told I was. So when I looked in the mirror one day and saw that I had gained a lot of weight, I wasn't surprised. I thought I looked like I had always looked; I thought this was how I was supposed to look, according to J.R.
As an adult, I do know better. I know that eating right and staying active are important things to do. But the struggle for someone who grew up knowing what she was is real. It isn't as easy as just do it. There's a mental block that takes time to get over. About a year ago I actually got a message from J.R. on facebook. He apologized for what he said; he remembered. As vivid as I held onto the image of finding out that I was fat, he held onto the guilt of letting me know.
It's been 14 years since my struggle with weight began, and I can't blame the little kid in my third grade class for who I am today. I am my own person and I do make my own choices. I put myself in the position that I'm in today, but I can't help but wonder...
...what if I had never been told that what I was, was fat?
...what if someone would have looked me in the eye and told me that I was beautiful?
Why? Simply because I'm the word no one wants me to say out loud, but they're thinking it inside their head.
And I don't have to wonder why. I can tell you why. Because when I was 8 years old in the third grade, a boy named J.R. told me that I was fat. I know exactly where I was standing, I remember exactly what I was wearing: blue jeans, a long sleeved white tshirt and a yellow vest. I don't think I'll ever forget that day.
And ever since, I've known. Before that day, I was clueless. If you looked at me now you might not believe me, but until the summer before middle school, I was easily the tallest kid in my class. I towered over the girls and the boys had to look up to me just a little by default. I hit puberty early on in life and while my flat-chested friends joked about stuffing their training bras with tissue paper, I logically decided that if I could just figure out how, I'd trade my body with them in a heartbeat.
Looking back at my third grade self, I can most confidently assure you that I was not, even by my own critically high standards, fat. I was very tall and my body was developing much differently than my peers. I was six months older than most of my classmates and those six months made a big difference - no pun intended. I was active in sports, cheered for the Startown Tigers and played softball for the "purple" team - whatever that was.
My stomach was flat but you couldn't see that under the baggy clothes I started to wear. My legs were toned but I never wore shorts because, fat girls don't wear shorts. I began to despise gym because I just knew they would make fun of me for trying to do the things small people did. I had long legs and I could run swiftly, but I was terrified to. So I didn't.
And from that very moment in third grade when a boy told me exactly what I was, I became that.
I knew that boys would not be attracted to me because I wasn't thin enough and I was just too tall. I knew that fat girls didn't play sports, so just after I nailed my back handspring for the first time, I stopped cheering. I didn't have anyone at home telling me to play outside, so I didn't. I was a latchkey kid, I did what I wanted to and I did what I thought I was supposed to do.
By the time I was old enough to know any better, the damage was done. I began to fit the lifestyle of what I had been told I was. So when I looked in the mirror one day and saw that I had gained a lot of weight, I wasn't surprised. I thought I looked like I had always looked; I thought this was how I was supposed to look, according to J.R.
As an adult, I do know better. I know that eating right and staying active are important things to do. But the struggle for someone who grew up knowing what she was is real. It isn't as easy as just do it. There's a mental block that takes time to get over. About a year ago I actually got a message from J.R. on facebook. He apologized for what he said; he remembered. As vivid as I held onto the image of finding out that I was fat, he held onto the guilt of letting me know.
It's been 14 years since my struggle with weight began, and I can't blame the little kid in my third grade class for who I am today. I am my own person and I do make my own choices. I put myself in the position that I'm in today, but I can't help but wonder...
...what if I had never been told that what I was, was fat?
...what if someone would have looked me in the eye and told me that I was beautiful?
Sunday, February 17, 2013
New Year Rewind
2013 and I got off to a pretty rocky start.
For some crazy reason, I convinced myself that once the clock struck midnight on January 1st, the year would fly and my husband would be home just like that. I counted and recounted the marbles in my homemade countdown jars, I checked the pie chart and percentage of deployment left on my iPhone like it was my job, and I realized that January wasn't magical; by the first of the year, we still had months and months to go.
I began working out fiercely again in January but by the end of the month, I had lost just a few more pounds. I cried when I stepped on the scale because even though I managed to hit my first real goal, I realized how far I had to go. Few people who really mattered even noticed I had lost thirty pounds and I found myself asking, "Is it really worth it?" My brain knew that it was, but my heart wasn't sure. I felt like I had failed already; I simply didn't want to have to acknowledge that it was just too much.
I became, if it's possible, more sensitive than normal. On the day my best friend left to go back to college, I cried in my office because I didn't want him to go. For the first time during this entire deployment, when E would call, I would break down in tears when he had to get off the phone. I cried myself to sleep more nights than I didn't and when one of my board members came into my office and asked me how my husband was doing - you guessed it - the tears wouldn't stop falling.
January was, by no stretch of the imagination, rough. And when February rolled around, I wasn't given much of a break. Within two weeks I had been diagnosed with the flu, an upper respiratory infection, strep throat, pink eye and last but certainly not least, mono. At first I was irritated and then slowly, I became sad. I cried in my doctor's office saying simply, I don't want to feel like this anymore. On my last visit, my doctor looked me in the eyes and said, "You aren't sleeping. Your immune system is shot and your anxiety is pushing you over the edge. Are you sure you don't want to try..." and I stopped him. No, I don't want to try anti-anxiety medication. I don't want to take anything for depression.
I knew that pills weren't the answer. I needed to get back on track; but I still didn't get back on track.
February kept rolling and as Valentine's day approached, I became proud of myself for staying so strong. My sweet E had sent flowers that arrived a week early, and we talked almost every day for a week. Once the 14th showed up, I was actually excited. My love my be 7,000 miles away but I still got butterflies knowing that I was sharing yet another Valentine's day with my E. But that night, after I was done with my shower and I was getting ready for bed, the restaurant below my apartment started their live jazz for the holiday. The saxophone started, the romantic melody of Shania Twain's You're Still The One floated into my bathroom and I was finally brought to tears. I so missed my husband; spending the night alone was not ideal.
But I kept going. I finally started to feel better and I geared up for my fourth big night at work. Jon Reep was coming to the NCA and the show was sold out. I always panic before these shows, and being so new to my job I feel like I have everything to prove and even more to lose. I was beyond ecstatic when I found out my best friend would be coming home and coming to the show. In hindsight, I honestly don't know what I would have done without him last night. Or any night, quite honestly, but that's an entirely different post.
The show went off without a hitch and I did not realize that by tonight I would have learned and grown in ways unimaginable. Opening for Jon Reep was Brian Kiley, a comedian from Tennessee. Before the show, I talked with Kiley and shared jokes with him back stage. I introduced him, but his own request, to an audience of 500 people as Krispy Kreme Donut's Sexiest Man Alive. After the show, we talked again and as a joke, he autographed a piece of paper for me where he had written the one-liner that I used to break the ice before his arrival on stage. He was delightful.
Tonight, I learned that as Brian was driving on I40 in the early hours of the morning, he was killed by a drunk driver. Just like that. Gone.
Anyone who knows me knows that death is my least favorite thing. Not only is it my biggest fear, but it's my biggest anxiety trigger. It's been almost two years and I still haven't fully recovered from seeing my sweet pug be put down at 14 years old. To remember Brian's voice, to remember shaking his hand, to have been the last person to introduce him on stage and to have been the last person he ever signed an autograph for, well, is quite simply overwhelming. As I learned of his passing, I sat in shock before the tears fell. Life is so short. I thought I knew this. I should know this.
From never forgetting the death of Spc. Trevor Pinnick to being faced with terrifying possibility of what war could do to my own husband, I thought I realized just how short life was. Perhaps I did but I got immune to the idea. Tonight, I am harshly reminded that once again, life is so short.
So 2013, I am ready for you to begin. I know we had a rocky start and I'm well aware I can't rewind you (not that I'd add back 48 days to the Deployment Countdown anyway), but I want to really start you.
So February 18th, let's do this. Tomorrow is it. We're in the final leg of this deployment and there's no use in giving up now. I have more pounds to lose and more of myself to find, and I can do this.
Happy New Year to me.
For some crazy reason, I convinced myself that once the clock struck midnight on January 1st, the year would fly and my husband would be home just like that. I counted and recounted the marbles in my homemade countdown jars, I checked the pie chart and percentage of deployment left on my iPhone like it was my job, and I realized that January wasn't magical; by the first of the year, we still had months and months to go.
I began working out fiercely again in January but by the end of the month, I had lost just a few more pounds. I cried when I stepped on the scale because even though I managed to hit my first real goal, I realized how far I had to go. Few people who really mattered even noticed I had lost thirty pounds and I found myself asking, "Is it really worth it?" My brain knew that it was, but my heart wasn't sure. I felt like I had failed already; I simply didn't want to have to acknowledge that it was just too much.
I became, if it's possible, more sensitive than normal. On the day my best friend left to go back to college, I cried in my office because I didn't want him to go. For the first time during this entire deployment, when E would call, I would break down in tears when he had to get off the phone. I cried myself to sleep more nights than I didn't and when one of my board members came into my office and asked me how my husband was doing - you guessed it - the tears wouldn't stop falling.
January was, by no stretch of the imagination, rough. And when February rolled around, I wasn't given much of a break. Within two weeks I had been diagnosed with the flu, an upper respiratory infection, strep throat, pink eye and last but certainly not least, mono. At first I was irritated and then slowly, I became sad. I cried in my doctor's office saying simply, I don't want to feel like this anymore. On my last visit, my doctor looked me in the eyes and said, "You aren't sleeping. Your immune system is shot and your anxiety is pushing you over the edge. Are you sure you don't want to try..." and I stopped him. No, I don't want to try anti-anxiety medication. I don't want to take anything for depression.
I knew that pills weren't the answer. I needed to get back on track; but I still didn't get back on track.
February kept rolling and as Valentine's day approached, I became proud of myself for staying so strong. My sweet E had sent flowers that arrived a week early, and we talked almost every day for a week. Once the 14th showed up, I was actually excited. My love my be 7,000 miles away but I still got butterflies knowing that I was sharing yet another Valentine's day with my E. But that night, after I was done with my shower and I was getting ready for bed, the restaurant below my apartment started their live jazz for the holiday. The saxophone started, the romantic melody of Shania Twain's You're Still The One floated into my bathroom and I was finally brought to tears. I so missed my husband; spending the night alone was not ideal.
But I kept going. I finally started to feel better and I geared up for my fourth big night at work. Jon Reep was coming to the NCA and the show was sold out. I always panic before these shows, and being so new to my job I feel like I have everything to prove and even more to lose. I was beyond ecstatic when I found out my best friend would be coming home and coming to the show. In hindsight, I honestly don't know what I would have done without him last night. Or any night, quite honestly, but that's an entirely different post.
The show went off without a hitch and I did not realize that by tonight I would have learned and grown in ways unimaginable. Opening for Jon Reep was Brian Kiley, a comedian from Tennessee. Before the show, I talked with Kiley and shared jokes with him back stage. I introduced him, but his own request, to an audience of 500 people as Krispy Kreme Donut's Sexiest Man Alive. After the show, we talked again and as a joke, he autographed a piece of paper for me where he had written the one-liner that I used to break the ice before his arrival on stage. He was delightful.
Tonight, I learned that as Brian was driving on I40 in the early hours of the morning, he was killed by a drunk driver. Just like that. Gone.
Anyone who knows me knows that death is my least favorite thing. Not only is it my biggest fear, but it's my biggest anxiety trigger. It's been almost two years and I still haven't fully recovered from seeing my sweet pug be put down at 14 years old. To remember Brian's voice, to remember shaking his hand, to have been the last person to introduce him on stage and to have been the last person he ever signed an autograph for, well, is quite simply overwhelming. As I learned of his passing, I sat in shock before the tears fell. Life is so short. I thought I knew this. I should know this.
From never forgetting the death of Spc. Trevor Pinnick to being faced with terrifying possibility of what war could do to my own husband, I thought I realized just how short life was. Perhaps I did but I got immune to the idea. Tonight, I am harshly reminded that once again, life is so short.
So 2013, I am ready for you to begin. I know we had a rocky start and I'm well aware I can't rewind you (not that I'd add back 48 days to the Deployment Countdown anyway), but I want to really start you.
So February 18th, let's do this. Tomorrow is it. We're in the final leg of this deployment and there's no use in giving up now. I have more pounds to lose and more of myself to find, and I can do this.
Happy New Year to me.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Consider Yourself Forgiven.
Hey you. Yes, you. The one who will probably never see this, right there sitting beside the man who I thought caused all of this. You. Definitely, most definitely you.
First of all, hi. How are you? I most sincerely hope you're doing really, really well. Contrary to what society tells us to believe about people we may dislike, be angry with, etc., I do not believe that anyone deserves to not be doing well in life.
A couple of days ago, I saw you for the first time since this whole thing started. I say thing because I'm still sort of confused about what it even is or was. I can't call it a fight, really. We didn't fight. It isn't a disagreement because we didn't disagree about anything. I can't call it a break up because I don't think you break up with your friends. See? It's confusing and I can't figure out what the word is so I'm going with thing, so just humor me.
So for the first time in six months I saw you with your husband and son while I ran to the store forI can't remember. I looked like straight shit because I had just come from the gym, and from the 10 second glance I got of you, you looked really, really nice. I mean that. So, as I'm standing here in Target wondering why 1) I went out in public looking like a bum and 2) why I cared so much about whether or not you saw me looking like a bum, I got really, really emotional. I mean, it just hit me like nothing else.
My gut reaction was, "oh my gosh there she is there she is go apologize and fix it and -" yeah, that lasted about twenty seconds before I ran over my foot with my shopping cart and called my best friend. Because then, I got really really angry and wanted to run over your foot. I mean not seriously, but metaphorically.
So I call my best friend, and he's talking me down off this emotional cliff I've climbed up on while I distract myself long enough to find some of what I need. But then, because let's face it: I can't multitask and I need to find the right nuts for Ethan, I hang up. And I'm glancing at the 890982345 different choices Target offers for nuts and I start crying. I know, predictable, right? Because I cry about everything. A lady who knows exactly where her nuts are looks at me like I'm crazy as she hurriedly selects a jar and ushers her child forward so as not to make eye contact with my emotional self. Awesome.
Anyway. So I'm not 100% sure if you saw me but that part, I've discovered, is completely irrelevant. And I promise you, this is going somewhere.
Believe it or not, I've managed to not think about you or this thing much. Or at least, not until I saw you that night. Since that night, I've sort of thought about it a lot because, let's face it: I'm pretty crazy at the moment* *thanks deployment.
And four pretty great things have come out of it. And it's ended really, really well for me. So I wanted to tell you what those things are because, well, really, I have you to thank for them.
1) For six months I've been super, crazy angry with your husband. And only a smidgen angry with you and that has been silly. You, as you have always been, are extremely intelligent and you have 100% control over yourself. You have made the decisions, not him.
2) You were never really my friend. This part was especially shitty to realize. And definitely not one of my best friends. Best friends do not: cheat, lie, manipulate, intentionally hurt, let others tear down, ignore, or sacrifice their friends. All of these things should have been gigantic, flashing neon signs in my direction that I was friends with someone who was not really my friend. But I was obviously not paying attention. ANYWAY.
3) My gut reaction is to always apologize even when whatever it is, isn't my fault. Because I hate having fights or arguments or things with people. But here's the thing: I'm totally not sorry this time. I think God heard the wheels in my head turning and was like, "Bitch please, I'm going to make you roll over your own foot so you snap out of it because you. are. not. apologizing. this. time." And it was a painful little lesson but I learned it. I'm not going to ever apologize to you for being a freaking awesome friend. I'm sorry you didn't REALIZE how awesome I was, but I'm not sorry that you threw it all away.
4) Okay, number three is pretty huge for me. Ready? I completely forgive you. I forgive you for all of this. I forgive you for that time you lied to your parents about the voicemail on the answering machine and blamed it on my husband which was literally years ago. I forgive you for all those times you used me as a cover up for doing things you should not have been doing. I forgive you for all of the lies and half-truths that I know about, and even the ones I don't. I forgive you for not telling me how your husband felt about me and my own husband, even when you knew. I forgive you for dropping me like a bad habit three days before my husband deployed. I forgive you for the lack of explanation. I forgive you for not having the guts to tell people the truth about why I'm not around anymore.
For the all the back stabbing.
For all the lying.
For disrespecting my husband and I.
For taking advantage of our generosity.
Everything, I swear, I forgive you.
First of all, hi. How are you? I most sincerely hope you're doing really, really well. Contrary to what society tells us to believe about people we may dislike, be angry with, etc., I do not believe that anyone deserves to not be doing well in life.
A couple of days ago, I saw you for the first time since this whole thing started. I say thing because I'm still sort of confused about what it even is or was. I can't call it a fight, really. We didn't fight. It isn't a disagreement because we didn't disagree about anything. I can't call it a break up because I don't think you break up with your friends. See? It's confusing and I can't figure out what the word is so I'm going with thing, so just humor me.
So for the first time in six months I saw you with your husband and son while I ran to the store for
My gut reaction was, "oh my gosh there she is there she is go apologize and fix it and -" yeah, that lasted about twenty seconds before I ran over my foot with my shopping cart and called my best friend. Because then, I got really really angry and wanted to run over your foot. I mean not seriously, but metaphorically.
So I call my best friend, and he's talking me down off this emotional cliff I've climbed up on while I distract myself long enough to find some of what I need. But then, because let's face it: I can't multitask and I need to find the right nuts for Ethan, I hang up. And I'm glancing at the 890982345 different choices Target offers for nuts and I start crying. I know, predictable, right? Because I cry about everything. A lady who knows exactly where her nuts are looks at me like I'm crazy as she hurriedly selects a jar and ushers her child forward so as not to make eye contact with my emotional self. Awesome.
Anyway. So I'm not 100% sure if you saw me but that part, I've discovered, is completely irrelevant. And I promise you, this is going somewhere.
Believe it or not, I've managed to not think about you or this thing much. Or at least, not until I saw you that night. Since that night, I've sort of thought about it a lot because, let's face it: I'm pretty crazy at the moment* *thanks deployment.
And four pretty great things have come out of it. And it's ended really, really well for me. So I wanted to tell you what those things are because, well, really, I have you to thank for them.
1) For six months I've been super, crazy angry with your husband. And only a smidgen angry with you and that has been silly. You, as you have always been, are extremely intelligent and you have 100% control over yourself. You have made the decisions, not him.
2) You were never really my friend. This part was especially shitty to realize. And definitely not one of my best friends. Best friends do not: cheat, lie, manipulate, intentionally hurt, let others tear down, ignore, or sacrifice their friends. All of these things should have been gigantic, flashing neon signs in my direction that I was friends with someone who was not really my friend. But I was obviously not paying attention. ANYWAY.
3) My gut reaction is to always apologize even when whatever it is, isn't my fault. Because I hate having fights or arguments or things with people. But here's the thing: I'm totally not sorry this time. I think God heard the wheels in my head turning and was like, "Bitch please, I'm going to make you roll over your own foot so you snap out of it because you. are. not. apologizing. this. time." And it was a painful little lesson but I learned it. I'm not going to ever apologize to you for being a freaking awesome friend. I'm sorry you didn't REALIZE how awesome I was, but I'm not sorry that you threw it all away.
4) Okay, number three is pretty huge for me. Ready? I completely forgive you. I forgive you for all of this. I forgive you for that time you lied to your parents about the voicemail on the answering machine and blamed it on my husband which was literally years ago. I forgive you for all those times you used me as a cover up for doing things you should not have been doing. I forgive you for all of the lies and half-truths that I know about, and even the ones I don't. I forgive you for not telling me how your husband felt about me and my own husband, even when you knew. I forgive you for dropping me like a bad habit three days before my husband deployed. I forgive you for the lack of explanation. I forgive you for not having the guts to tell people the truth about why I'm not around anymore.
For the all the back stabbing.
For all the lying.
For disrespecting my husband and I.
For taking advantage of our generosity.
Everything, I swear, I forgive you.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Fear.
This week has been ridiculous.
I've been letting myself be driven by fear and I'm learning that fear 1) isn't the best motivator and 2) is obvious to other people in all its forms.
I took alittle three and a half week long break from working out and dieting and I was so scared to start again. I was actually afraid to start working out again. What if I honestly cannot do this and I fail again? I'd rather stay the same and never try than put forth the effort only to not succeed.
I haven't been able to send my husband a care package in weeks. What if he doesn't get to open it?
I've been totally called out on being ridiculously concerned on how I act around the one person who I should never be worried around, which sucks. What if I do something, say something, don't say something right and then I lose my best friend again?
I can't completely decide if I'm going to be able to renew my vows this fall, which is supposed to be an incredibly easy and positive decision. What if no one comes and I completely embarrass myself?
And the list. goes. on.
I wish I could say that I had this huge epiphany or that I read some inspirational quote that made my brain do a 180 degree turn. Either of those statements would just be a lie. I'm still really scared about alot shit ton of things. In fact, I can't remember a time when I wasn't driven by fear.
But I went back to the gym and today, I had a fucking awesome work out. I'm planning to go first thing in the morning, too.
So I guess I'm starting somewhere.
I've been letting myself be driven by fear and I'm learning that fear 1) isn't the best motivator and 2) is obvious to other people in all its forms.
I took a
I haven't been able to send my husband a care package in weeks. What if he doesn't get to open it?
I've been totally called out on being ridiculously concerned on how I act around the one person who I should never be worried around, which sucks. What if I do something, say something, don't say something right and then I lose my best friend again?
I can't completely decide if I'm going to be able to renew my vows this fall, which is supposed to be an incredibly easy and positive decision. What if no one comes and I completely embarrass myself?
And the list. goes. on.
I wish I could say that I had this huge epiphany or that I read some inspirational quote that made my brain do a 180 degree turn. Either of those statements would just be a lie. I'm still really scared about a
But I went back to the gym and today, I had a fucking awesome work out. I'm planning to go first thing in the morning, too.
So I guess I'm starting somewhere.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Hello, 2013
Since December 18th, I've sat down so many times in an attempt to write. Daily I would stare a blank white space that seemed to taunt me with words that just wouldn't come. Finally, a few days past the New Year, I decided to stop trying until the moment just hit; I'd know when it was time to begin writing again.
Since my anniversary, many things have come and gone that should have been worthy of writing. I bought a car, celebrated Christmas, laughed, rang in the New Year, cried, smiled, frowned, lost weight, gained weight, bounced up and down. I began to bounce back. I missed my husband, I fought with my husband, and at times I forgot what it was like to have a husband. But nothing could come to my mind when I sat down to express it all, so I simply decided that sometimes, not writing was okay.
As of today, we're 56% through with this deployment and I can't even figure out the best way to express my absolute joy of knowing that my husband is coming home this year. Insane. When this whole journey of deployment started, not one ounce of me thought anything good would come of it. But looking ahead, with over half of this ordeal behind us, this distance has done more to enrich our marriage and to help us grow as individuals than anything else ever could have.
I've learned so much about myself, and some of it's good and some of it isn't. It's so interesting how the absence of one person can change everything in your world and make you realize even the tiniest details are what makes life worth while. Before my husband left, I didn't think I cared much for physical touch. A simple hand on my shoulder, a kiss on my forehead, an arm to lean on... these are things I used to find so normal that I forgot I loved them. A few nights ago I watched a couple sit so fluidly together on a sofa watching a movie; hand in hand, nothing more than your typical date night. And I wanted to curl up in a little ball and cry. That's what I miss the most and it kills me that I didn't realize it before E left.
I have no New Years resolution, I can't summarize the past year eloquently.
2013, you will bring my husband home. I can't wait to see you fly by.
Since my anniversary, many things have come and gone that should have been worthy of writing. I bought a car, celebrated Christmas, laughed, rang in the New Year, cried, smiled, frowned, lost weight, gained weight, bounced up and down. I began to bounce back. I missed my husband, I fought with my husband, and at times I forgot what it was like to have a husband. But nothing could come to my mind when I sat down to express it all, so I simply decided that sometimes, not writing was okay.
As of today, we're 56% through with this deployment and I can't even figure out the best way to express my absolute joy of knowing that my husband is coming home this year. Insane. When this whole journey of deployment started, not one ounce of me thought anything good would come of it. But looking ahead, with over half of this ordeal behind us, this distance has done more to enrich our marriage and to help us grow as individuals than anything else ever could have.
I've learned so much about myself, and some of it's good and some of it isn't. It's so interesting how the absence of one person can change everything in your world and make you realize even the tiniest details are what makes life worth while. Before my husband left, I didn't think I cared much for physical touch. A simple hand on my shoulder, a kiss on my forehead, an arm to lean on... these are things I used to find so normal that I forgot I loved them. A few nights ago I watched a couple sit so fluidly together on a sofa watching a movie; hand in hand, nothing more than your typical date night. And I wanted to curl up in a little ball and cry. That's what I miss the most and it kills me that I didn't realize it before E left.
I have no New Years resolution, I can't summarize the past year eloquently.
2013, you will bring my husband home. I can't wait to see you fly by.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Speechless
By no stretch of the imagination, I am unabashedly verbose. And yet, just after midnight on the 17th of December, I sit speechless.
I have found the one who my soul loves.
Happy one year anniversary to my sweet E.
I have found the one who my soul loves.
Happy one year anniversary to my sweet E.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
13 years, 48 days.
Nine years ago today, I lost the most important person in the world.
To say that I miss her seems inadequate; to say that I loved her seems to be a vast understatement.
They say that time heals all wounds but I have found this to be untrue. How can time heal the pain of death, when every second that passes is a second that is farther from the last hug, the last, "I love you," or the last smile? No, time does not heal all wounds.
Time is a tricky thing that tries to make you forget the hurt by blurring, ever so slightly, the memories of the past. But it also works against you. Time forces you to work harder to remember their voices and their touch, their laughter and their stories.
The most beautiful woman I have ever known held me in her arms the day I was born and loved me unconditionally until the day that she died.
I have to watch myself, even nine years later, when I see people my age or older with their grandparents. It's a twinge of jealousy, a moment of anger and a knife that twists itself in my spine as I watch the Lucky Ones have what I will never again experience. It is beautiful and it is broken, but it is the way my eyes so jadedly see the world.
-
Thirteen years and forty eight days I had you in my life. I truly had no idea what I had until far too many years later when I realized what had escaped me. I will never let time steal you away from me. As painful as the image of the cancer breaking your body but never your spirit, I will embrace the worst of times so that I may never lose sight of the days when you were hugging me tightly, laughing so freely and always loving, unconditionally. The most beautiful woman I have ever known, the most precious memory I will ever hold.
Not a day goes by that I don't think of you.
You were like my mother
You were my best friend
You were everything I want to be
And all the good inside of me
That there's ever been
There's never been another
Who loved me like you did
My grandmother, my angel
Monday, December 10, 2012
What's It Like Not To Count?
I don't think I'm being sensational when I say I can't remember a time when I wasn't counting down to something huge and life-changing. As a teenager, I was always counting down the days until I could drive, graduate, buy a lottery ticket and eventually a beer. During college, I counted down the days until finals, summer vacations and eventually graduation. Perhaps the toughest parts of the count down game come from "real life." Marking off the days until Ethan would get home from basic training, counting down until the day I got married and moved out of my childhood home and now, what might be the hardest thing I've ever had to "wait" for, my husband to come home from Afghanistan.
And I have to wonder... what comes next? When Ethan is home, things will be so different for me. I have no idea how to live without waiting for something. When most people look at the calendar, they see a set of dates that help them organize their lives. When I see a calendar, I see an X being marked off slowly but surely, counting down until The Day. When I see a clock, I don't just see minute and hour hands, I see grief and fear ticking away. And I have no clue what's going to happen when that isn't the case anymore.
I sometimes imagine what it will be like when Ethan comes home and it's just us. Already married, the thought of another deployment is so far out of mind, and all the things we've been waiting for just surrounding us as if to proudly say, "look at what you did! It's here, it's here!" Just a home with our dog and and then whatever we want. And I know that sounds childish to say that I'm looking forward to just doing whatever the hell we want but it isn't at all. Lately, someone dictates when we can talk on the phone, when we can see each other, how long we can chat online, etc. etc. And you know what? I can't wait for the day that we look at each other and say, "What do you want to do today?" And neither of us will know. We'll sleep too late, eat breakfast at lunch, fill our tank of gas all the way to the brim and just drive until we forget where we are. And it will be perfect.
I have no idea what it's like not to count the days "until". And I am so excited to find out what it's like, that I can hardly stand it some days.
But for now, we're 131 days down, and over 150 to go...
And I have to wonder... what comes next? When Ethan is home, things will be so different for me. I have no idea how to live without waiting for something. When most people look at the calendar, they see a set of dates that help them organize their lives. When I see a calendar, I see an X being marked off slowly but surely, counting down until The Day. When I see a clock, I don't just see minute and hour hands, I see grief and fear ticking away. And I have no clue what's going to happen when that isn't the case anymore.
I sometimes imagine what it will be like when Ethan comes home and it's just us. Already married, the thought of another deployment is so far out of mind, and all the things we've been waiting for just surrounding us as if to proudly say, "look at what you did! It's here, it's here!" Just a home with our dog and and then whatever we want. And I know that sounds childish to say that I'm looking forward to just doing whatever the hell we want but it isn't at all. Lately, someone dictates when we can talk on the phone, when we can see each other, how long we can chat online, etc. etc. And you know what? I can't wait for the day that we look at each other and say, "What do you want to do today?" And neither of us will know. We'll sleep too late, eat breakfast at lunch, fill our tank of gas all the way to the brim and just drive until we forget where we are. And it will be perfect.
I have no idea what it's like not to count the days "until". And I am so excited to find out what it's like, that I can hardly stand it some days.
But for now, we're 131 days down, and over 150 to go...
Monday, December 3, 2012
So About Last Night
I really need to refrain from blogging when I'm at the peak of an emotional meltdown.
Last night was pretty terrible, I can't lie. Something just washed over me as I was trying to put together Ethan's care package for Christmas. Today is the deadline for shipping to an APO in order for it to arrive by Christmas, so I was rushing last night to put together his box. It's not the worst box I've ever done, but it's not wonderful either. I couldn't get it together. Nothing was fitting inside there correctly, the box doesn't look as pretty as I would have liked and I still can't figure out if I did enough. I don't really think I did, but what can I do at this point but move on?
Putting this box together was sort of like Veteran's day. I had no clue how emotional it would make me or why, if there even has to be a reason, that it got to me so much. I think maybe knowing that he won't be home for the holidays is something I've accepted but didn't quite realize what it meant. Being around his family, watching other couples celebrate together... it just adds up to a very depressing season.
I had heard from other wives that the middle of the deployment is always the worst part. I thought they were crazy! How in the world could the middle point be tougher than those first, terrifying nights? Well, I've completely figured out just how horrible the middle part can be.
For the most part, it's exciting to see the number decrease in terms of how many days are left until he's back in the US, but there are moments when I think about how long it's been since I've seen him and then realize how many more days will pass before he comes home and I'm just overwhelmed. It can make something as simple as wrapping a Christmas present torture, or something as normal as carrying on a conversation via text message excruciatingly painful. It sometimes makes absolutely no sense, and maybe that's okay. I haven't figured it out yet.
I'm still lucky to have people around me who put up with me when I'm going through rough days... I do my very best to be there and support other people, so sometimes I set my expectations really high when it's my turn to need someone, and rarely have I been disappointed in the past few months.
As a side note, I learned not to listen to Mariah Carey's greatest hits when I'm sad because 1) they will make cry harder and 2) they will not help lift me into a better mood.
But on a positive note...
Yesterday marked the end of nine weeks worth of dieting and working out and I'm really, really, REALLY excited about it. I've still got235923453 a whole lot of pounds to lose and a shit ton of work ahead of me, but I've lost about 25 pounds, give or take a few ounces, and it feels really, really good. This week I'm getting re-trained on all the machines at my gym because it's been about three years since someone showed me how to work everything and I'm going to start working with weights at least twice a week. I still love my elliptical but I need to start toning up as well...
Once I get down another size in jeans, I'll post a progress picture... I'm thinking I probably have about twenty pounds to go but that's completely doable... Most likely by mid January I should be there.
So here's to an intense week of working out and trying to keep my head above water... it'll be a battle but I'm ready.
Last night was pretty terrible, I can't lie. Something just washed over me as I was trying to put together Ethan's care package for Christmas. Today is the deadline for shipping to an APO in order for it to arrive by Christmas, so I was rushing last night to put together his box. It's not the worst box I've ever done, but it's not wonderful either. I couldn't get it together. Nothing was fitting inside there correctly, the box doesn't look as pretty as I would have liked and I still can't figure out if I did enough. I don't really think I did, but what can I do at this point but move on?
Putting this box together was sort of like Veteran's day. I had no clue how emotional it would make me or why, if there even has to be a reason, that it got to me so much. I think maybe knowing that he won't be home for the holidays is something I've accepted but didn't quite realize what it meant. Being around his family, watching other couples celebrate together... it just adds up to a very depressing season.
I had heard from other wives that the middle of the deployment is always the worst part. I thought they were crazy! How in the world could the middle point be tougher than those first, terrifying nights? Well, I've completely figured out just how horrible the middle part can be.
For the most part, it's exciting to see the number decrease in terms of how many days are left until he's back in the US, but there are moments when I think about how long it's been since I've seen him and then realize how many more days will pass before he comes home and I'm just overwhelmed. It can make something as simple as wrapping a Christmas present torture, or something as normal as carrying on a conversation via text message excruciatingly painful. It sometimes makes absolutely no sense, and maybe that's okay. I haven't figured it out yet.
I'm still lucky to have people around me who put up with me when I'm going through rough days... I do my very best to be there and support other people, so sometimes I set my expectations really high when it's my turn to need someone, and rarely have I been disappointed in the past few months.
As a side note, I learned not to listen to Mariah Carey's greatest hits when I'm sad because 1) they will make cry harder and 2) they will not help lift me into a better mood.
But on a positive note...
Yesterday marked the end of nine weeks worth of dieting and working out and I'm really, really, REALLY excited about it. I've still got
Once I get down another size in jeans, I'll post a progress picture... I'm thinking I probably have about twenty pounds to go but that's completely doable... Most likely by mid January I should be there.
So here's to an intense week of working out and trying to keep my head above water... it'll be a battle but I'm ready.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Today Sucks.
You know what I would love right about now? I would love to not be crying over a freaking Christmas present. I'd love to think that anything I did for E would be great but the truth is that he probably won't even act excited about a fucking thing I do.
I'd also like to go back and not eat breakfast or lunch because I'm absolutely sick over it. Literally sick and I don't even want to think about food for the next two days because it makes me want to knock myself out. Seriously, wtf was I thinking? I've been busting my ass for 9 weeks and I blow it in a 6 hour span of time. At least the gym is open tomorrow.
I'd also love just love to think that time changes some people but honestly, it may not.
WHATEVER.
So. Over. It.
I need wine. No I don't. Too many calories. Fuck it.
I'd also like to go back and not eat breakfast or lunch because I'm absolutely sick over it. Literally sick and I don't even want to think about food for the next two days because it makes me want to knock myself out. Seriously, wtf was I thinking? I've been busting my ass for 9 weeks and I blow it in a 6 hour span of time. At least the gym is open tomorrow.
I'd also love just love to think that time changes some people but honestly, it may not.
WHATEVER.
So. Over. It.
I need wine. No I don't. Too many calories. Fuck it.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Born to serve.
I was crossing the street to my apartment this afternoon when I noticed a man with a cane cross the street. We ended practically at the same point on the sidewalk when I noticed who he was. I didn't actually know him, but reality washed over me when I realized I could. He wore an Operation Enduring Freedom hat and walked swiftly, not letting his injury slow him down.
I sort of stared at him before saying hello and then broke out into tears. He looked at me like I was a disturbed crack addict, and I'm pretty sure I gave him the motivation to walk faster. I ran up to my apartment and just rationalized. He could have totally sprained an ankle earlier today, hurt his back playing football with his little brothers or been in a minor car accident. Maybe. But maybe he was injured on his deployment.
And I get that it happens but my GOD can I go just one day without a reminder? Yes, I bring a lot of it on myself and no, I'm not the only person to think like this but I feel like November has been a constant month of just fear. I wasn't this afraid in the beginning.
So then I was walking home from the gym tonight and I was just staring at the sidewalk and I imagined what it must be like to just wonder. What if I stepped right there and the whole thing exploded? How do our guys do it? How does the concept of route clearance not strike fear into them to the point they freeze and shut down? Courage like that isn't taught. It can't be drilled into them during training. They're born to serve. They have to be.
My husband is the bravest person I know.
An Effort to be Positive
I have nothing of real value to write about this morning and to be honest, I have a lot of work to do. I figured that before I start acting like an adult, I could write down a few things that were actually really good about this past week. I'm sometimes a Negative Nancy and have to remind myself to be positive. Here's my latest attempt:
- Last night, for the first time ever, I ventured downtown - and by "ventured" I mean I mean I walked out my front door - to see the Christmas lights come on around the square. It was underwhelming at best but Santa totally came to town on a freaking tractor so what's there really to complain about?
- I officially made it through Thanksgiving without losing my mind, even though I definitely came close once or twice.
- I saw Twilight Breaking Dawn Part Two twice and even though it wasn't as good as I built it up to be in my head, the fact that there was an Amazonian Tyra Banks vampire made it all okay. That and I totally have a girl crush on Kristen Stewart now. Don't even hate.
-Even though I ate way more than normal this past week, I managed to not gain any weight. I originally thought I had lost a total of 20 pounds so far but it's only 19.
-Speaking of losing weight, I'm making December a month of total crazy workout and dieting. No it's not ideal and yes it's probably "too fast" but my goal is to lose 21 pounds from now until December 31st. That would be a total of 40 pounds and would leave 60 to go before Ethan comes home.
- I spent lots of time with my best friend which was great, because even though he has no idea, just being around him helped me make lots of decisions about things I've remained so uncertain of lately. I love how some people just have a presence that makes it possible for you to make sense of things.
- I've changed the way I think about my husband and this deployment in a really good way. I used to get so upset because I'd leave him a message, see that he had read it but left no response. I would feel so rejected and hurt. And then I had a slap in the face moment. He read the messages, and that means he's alive. I should celebrate every time he reads it, whether he responds or not.
- We're officially 40% done with this deployment... so far to go but my gosh, I can remember when we were at one tiny percent.
So I guess despite the fact that in many ways Thanksgiving was a super shitty week of sad, there were some bright spots that really made all the difference.
And for that, I really am thankful.
- Last night, for the first time ever, I ventured downtown - and by "ventured" I mean I mean I walked out my front door - to see the Christmas lights come on around the square. It was underwhelming at best but Santa totally came to town on a freaking tractor so what's there really to complain about?
- I officially made it through Thanksgiving without losing my mind, even though I definitely came close once or twice.
- I saw Twilight Breaking Dawn Part Two twice and even though it wasn't as good as I built it up to be in my head, the fact that there was an Amazonian Tyra Banks vampire made it all okay. That and I totally have a girl crush on Kristen Stewart now. Don't even hate.
-Even though I ate way more than normal this past week, I managed to not gain any weight. I originally thought I had lost a total of 20 pounds so far but it's only 19.
-Speaking of losing weight, I'm making December a month of total crazy workout and dieting. No it's not ideal and yes it's probably "too fast" but my goal is to lose 21 pounds from now until December 31st. That would be a total of 40 pounds and would leave 60 to go before Ethan comes home.
- I spent lots of time with my best friend which was great, because even though he has no idea, just being around him helped me make lots of decisions about things I've remained so uncertain of lately. I love how some people just have a presence that makes it possible for you to make sense of things.
- I've changed the way I think about my husband and this deployment in a really good way. I used to get so upset because I'd leave him a message, see that he had read it but left no response. I would feel so rejected and hurt. And then I had a slap in the face moment. He read the messages, and that means he's alive. I should celebrate every time he reads it, whether he responds or not.
- We're officially 40% done with this deployment... so far to go but my gosh, I can remember when we were at one tiny percent.
So I guess despite the fact that in many ways Thanksgiving was a super shitty week of sad, there were some bright spots that really made all the difference.
And for that, I really am thankful.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
If I Could Give Myself Advice
If I could go back in time and give myself advice for how to handle the week of Thanksgiving, here's what I would say:
1. I know you really like Army Wives and that you're trying to get caught up on the seasons, but when you're missing your husbad the most, please don't watch season five. Not only will you watch two men dressed in greens show up at one of your favorite character's houses, you will hear them tell her that her son was killed and then, because you are a glutton for punishment, you will watch his funeral and listen to the letter he left in his foot locker be read in his voice and you will bawl your fucking eyes out. And it's because you will be too stupid to realize it's a bad fucking idea. Avoid this show for the week of Thanksgiving. It is a total mood killer.
2. Thanksgiving is as dumb as you remember it every single year. It's a holiday that few people actually enjoy, that people spend way too much time cooking for ( cooking food that you don't even like, by the way), and it will not magically transform into an awesome holiday so don't feel bad about dreading it.
3. You do not have to go to every house that you are expected to go to. Even though you're going to do it for the sake of your husband, it isn't worth your worry because while you might be making everyone else happy, you're only going to drive yourself crazy rushing from place to place. Pick two places. People will deal.
4. If and when a prayer is said at the family dinner and they do not address your husband, your husband's service or the fact that maybe just maybe we should be thankful for something other than stuffing our faces, just stay calm. Stay calm. Not only is it not worth getting upset over, but you now have a legitimate reason to open your mouth and get sassy the next time someone pisses you off. This can be morphed into a good thing.
5. You don't like turkey. Stop eating it.
6. You are going to cry more on Thanksgiving than you have since your husband left. You will cry getting ready, in the car, when you see his dad (because he looks just like him), when you leave his grandparent's house and then, as if you hadn't cried enough, you will get drunk and sob on your floor to your best friend like a complete idiot. It will be therapeutic and embarrassing and the best thing you could have done for yourself. Crying is totally fine on Thanksgiving.
7. Speaking of your best friend, you're going to be completely reminded of why your best friend is still your best friend and it will make your heart s m i l e even when you don't feel like anything can be right with the world. Just go with it and hold on to it, because it's one of those things that you're going to end up being most thankful for.
8. Your husband isn't going to magically surprise you like a super cute You Tube video. You already know this but that teeny tiny hope that you'll at least hear from him via a face book message or short phone call will also be smashed and it will break your little heart. But whatever you do, don't not hope. Even when you're disappointed, you must remember that there is never a crime in hoping.
9. For every ounce of sadness you have because your husband won't be home, there are two ounces of love for him in your heart. If you didn't love him, you wouldn't miss him. The fact that you have someone in your life that you love so much is enough reason to celebrate. Don't forget that distance doesn't take away what's in your heart.
10. Speaking of your husband, you're going to think about him roughly 9234592345 times a day. Don't fight it. Embrace it. You have found the one whom your soul loves.
Thanksgiving is another day down. Keep on keeping on.
Thanksgiving is another day down. Keep on keeping on.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
How can I change her heart?
Last week I went to a birthday party for one of Ethan's cousins and while I was just standing around awkwardly - because what are adults really supposed to do a kid's party anyway? - I struck up a conversation with one of my favorite young ladies. I believe she's in middle school and through the five years Ethan and I have been together, I have watched her transformation from a little kid into a beautiful pre-teen who has a truly bright future.
Her family is strong - the strongest kinds of strong that only a military family can posses. I'm in awe of how they've held themselves together through multiple deployments only to come out of it with a heart that's still soft enough to help others; they've recently become a foster family and I'm envious of their ability to help so many people just by opening their front door.
But last week, my heart was truly hurt. As this young girl was telling me about the newest foster child they were caring for, she spoke of a haunting past. It made me sad to think this little child had been through so much at such a young age, and just when I thought it was over, I was told that there was something else. This baby used live with her aunt. The girl who was speaking then said that what came next was disgusting. She made a face as if to insinuate being sick and I braced myself. Had this poor baby been the victim of rape? Had someone shook this child? Drugs in the home?
No. What was disgusting was that she lived with her aunt and her aunt's partner.
I was in shock. I nodded my head, looked to another adult to continue a new conversation and held back tears. I got to my car and I couldn't stop them. I just cried and cried as I drove home because I couldn't understand what I had just heard. This beautiful young girl stood in front of me, and yet the words that flowed were filled with homophobia and disgust. I knew her family was conservative, as are most of Ethan's relatives, but I didn't know it was taken this far.
My mind immediately ran to my best friend. I've brought him around these people and trusted that it was a safe environment. Was I wrong? Is that really what they think about gay people and those who have children? Then I thought of his sweet aunts, who just welcomed a beautiful baby girl not even a year ago. How could such a beautiful family be viewed as anything but just that? What was disgusting? To this exact moment I can't process it.
What are we teaching our children? I know that not everyone agrees that "gay is okay" but when did the term disgusting become okay to use when we're talking about real people?
I can't get this day out of my head. What can I do to fix this? How can I change the heart of someone who simply doesn't know any better? I'm so lost. I can't even grasp the concept that she is just one thousands.
It's devastating and I feel helpless.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Patience & Good Cheer
The closer it gets to Christmas, the more I'm trying to soften my heart and really make an effort to be kinder and more compassionate. It isn't just because the holidays are coming up, it's also because in the past month I've noticed myself becoming more and more intolerant, irritable and if I have to be honest, completely resentful.
I love to see people I love happy and in relationships, and I get that arguing with your significant other is completely normal, but sometimes it's super hard for me to try and relate. Just a week ago I was with two friends who were planning a trip and they were just not getting along. I tried to be supportive, I genuinely cared about their problems and at the same time I was just on the verge of screaming, "You're right beside each other! You're not 7,000 miles away! What problem could you possibly have that you can't resolve with a hug?"
Completely irrational. I know. I get it. It's sort of like when I see a happy couple out in public and I want to just vomit. I get so resentful when I just see simple displays of affection because I miss it. I miss it so freaking much. I miss my husband's touch and I'm not even talking about sex. I miss holding his hand and having him come up behind me and wrap his arms around me.
It's also sort of like when I hear someone tell me they miss someone who lives within driving distance. Or in the same state. Or on the same fucking continent. I internally give a death stare that could probably take out the taliban on its own. It's totally unfair of me and I am trying so hard, but it's super tough. Some days are better than others and I'm trying to really remember what this sacrifice is for.
I'm trying to remember that every night I go to sleep alone, it's another night that others can sleep safely with their spouses and their kids. I'm reminding myself that this isn't forever and that he'll be home soon. That in the end, it will all be worth it when I've got my husband back home, safe and sound.
So if I seem a little on edge or my fuse a tad short, try to give me a little slack. I'm really trying hard and it's just not an easy journey.
Here's to practicing patience and spreading good cheer.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Random Things
I'm procrastinating at work but my mind is running in a bunch of different directions so instead of blogging a real blog I'm just going to list random thoughts in my head:
- I'm thinking of going back to school because I don't think I'm going to magically fall in love with my current "profession" anytime soon. Better late than ever, right?
- I worked out last night for an hour and the machine said I burned 700 calories so I'm not going to call it a liar. YAY for doing what I said I'd do.
- I absolutely cannot believe that Thanksgiving is next week and I'm a crummy wife because I just now sent E's care package. Ooops.
- Pinterest is KILLING ME with their recipes and I keep repinning things that make me so freaking hungry.
- I'm actually going home for lunch today which is super weird. I never do that.
- I'm thinking of going back to school because I don't think I'm going to magically fall in love with my current "profession" anytime soon. Better late than ever, right?
- I worked out last night for an hour and the machine said I burned 700 calories so I'm not going to call it a liar. YAY for doing what I said I'd do.
- I absolutely cannot believe that Thanksgiving is next week and I'm a crummy wife because I just now sent E's care package. Ooops.
- Pinterest is KILLING ME with their recipes and I keep repinning things that make me so freaking hungry.
- I'm actually going home for lunch today which is super weird. I never do that.
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