Last night the Viper Pilot told me that anyone who reads the blog lately probably thinks I’m falling apart. On the contrary, I am just fine in my entirety. There are just certain other stupid things (such as my cars) that are falling apart. But as for me, I am a-okay.
|Seriously, I’m good.|
Deployment sucks. I wish there was a more polite way to phrase that but that’s the best I can come up with. It may be a bit passive aggressive, but in my opinion, there are only a few times when I think bad words are acceptable and not in the slightest bit offensive to anyone; like when bad things happen to good people, cancer, and deployments to name a few. Sometimes I think it is okay to bite back.
Remember back in the spring when I wrote those “preparing for deployment” posts? I remember thinking that sharing my perspective might benefit other spouses in a similar position and I planned to write a few “surviving deployment” posts after the Viper Pilot left. I wanted to discuss what I was doing that worked, shed some light on how I was keeping it together. But now that we are several months into the deployment, I’m realizing that there is no point in that. No one would really benefit from something like that because everyone handles situations differently, it would simply be me complaining and telling you to expect anything and everything to go wrong.
I’ve already kind of done that though, haven’t I? It seems like every time I sit down to write I have something to complain about. Just another thing went wrong that wouldn’t have if the Viper Pilot were here. I even blamed the fact that I stubbed my big toe on the curb this morning on the d@mn deployment. I stubbed it so bad that it ripped off skin and wouldn’t stop bleeding. I didn’t have any bandages because I sent them with him and never replaced them. I stubbed it walking into the squadron because I had to drop something off there that the Viper Pilot very well could have taken to work with him if he were here.
This #$^!@#%ing deployment.
I’m not withering away in my misery. I’m not miserable (except when I stubbed my toe, it really hurt). It’s just not easy and really it’s not as bad as I thought it would be either. Now there is a statement that requires elaboration. Let me break it down for you.
[It’s not easy] because every night that I crawl into bed, I think about how much I miss his arms around me, matching my breath to his as I fall asleep, and the comfort of waking up and seeing his face first thing in the morning. [It’s not easy] because I don’t know diddily squat about cars so naturally those would be the very things that would break. [It’s not easy] because there is nothing easy about running a household by yourself. [It’s not easy] because he has only been to one baby appointment to confirm the pregnancy, has never seen an ultrasound, and is yet to feel our sweet baby kick.
[It’s not as bad as I thought it would be] because time is flying, just like everyone said it would. [It’s not as bad as I thought it would be] because being pregnant during deployment is actually working for me, contrary to what a lot of other people might say. It’s a nice distraction, really. [It’s not as bad as I thought it would be] because of modern technology that allows me to keep in touch with him often. [It’s not as bad as I thought it would be] because I have the most amazing support system — the ladies in our squadron are the most incredible people I’ve met in my life.
Is surviving deployment the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life? Not really. Saying goodbye to him was probably as close as it gets, though.
I’ve experienced so many emotions in the past 100+ days. I’ve felt sad, sadder than sad, anxious, worried, strong, frustrated, angry, irritated, happy, happier than happy, alone, scared, loved, excited, mad, madder than mad, independent, helpless, fearless.
Believe it or not, I think I’m an introvert. I did a quick Google search and found this article. I really do think I fit the bill. Of all the things I do to “keep it together,” I think the most productive one is a spoon, a tub of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia, and a chick flick or trashy TV. (No? Just me?)
What I mean to say is the most productive tactic to keeping my marbles is “me time.” Treat yourself once a month to something nice. Get a pedi, take a friend out to lunch, get a massage. Find something to celebrate, even if it is just the fact that you are another month done with the deployment. That is a pretty big deal, after all. It is good for the soul and it’s a great break from the stress of a deployment.
I was going to get a pedi after work today to say cheers to an Awesome August, but since stubbing my toe the thought of them accidentally making contact with a pumice stone makes me cringe. Maybe a mani…
On the flip side, it is so important to remember that no matter how difficult it may seem for me, he probably has a lot of the very same emotions (sans those caused by pregnancy hormones), except that he is stuck in a combat zone. I strive to handle the rough patches with a womanly grace, not the grief of a child. Families on the home front are warriors, too. God made me strong when He made me for him.
The sun will always set each day, that’s a given. From day 1 the most difficult part of the day has been nights. It’s when I want his arms around me most, when I want to talk to him most and tell him about my day, when I want to laugh with him. When I can’t do any of that, I pray for him.
So, stay strong and goodnight. You’re one day closer.
One last little thing before you go…here’s something to read.