I need help. I need advice. I need someone reading this to say something...or pass this along to someone who will.
I've never gone through a deployment...I don't know what I'm doing. What I do know...is that I'm in over my head. I'm trying to navigate through a jungle in the middle of the night...without a flashlight or a map. I'm lost.
Completely lost.
Help me.
Things aren't as rosy as they seem. I guess that's the perk of being a good writer...you can paint the picture however you want to. I love him...but this is tough. I'm being snapped at a lot. Tempers are running short. He's closing off, shutting down and backing away. He did this once before, but after two weeks of AT, that changed. It's like he saw the light at the end of the tunnel, and he opened up. I blogged about it. Life was perfect.
Now we're back to square one.
I feel left in the dark. I have an insatiable need to understand things...to be kept on the same page...to know why things are playing out the way they are. I'd rather be hurt by the truth, than strung along with a lie. The more he closes off, the more I push to know...and it's a vicious cycle that's getting me nowhere.
I'm frustrated.
And I need you to speak up...
Monday, May 30, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Missing you...
"Honey, I miss you. I could be in a room with 10,000 other people...and if you weren't in there, I'd be lonely."
Ditto sweetheart...ditto.
Ditto sweetheart...ditto.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Tick, Tock
How does it feel to have someone you love deploy? Like a kick in teeth. Like you're falling into a pit to which there is no bottom. You can't breathe...your heart feels like it's being shattered into a million pieces...and the world as you know it is slowly coming to a very dramatic end. You can watch as many movies as you want...you can tune in to see deployment ceremonies on the news, and it, in no way, begins to capture the enormity of the emotions...from heart break to fear, to pride (and an immense amount of it).
I've covered deployment ceremonies. I've interviewed crying mothers. I've watched as fathers kiss their children good bye. I've heard the sobs, seen the shakes, watched the worlds shatter. I've witnessed it. I've been there. I've felt it.
Nothing could have prepared me for this.
Nothing.
And it's nothing that I can explain to you. Nothing you'll ever truly grasp until you're there. Until you're standing there in a crowd of hundreds of people, waving an American flag and praying as hard as you can that your soldier can't see your tears from across the field house.
I know he'll be fine. He is so brave, and so smart and so intelligent. More than my boyfriend or my best friend...he's my living, walking, breathing hero. I love him more than words can say.
Saying good bye to him was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
I was both looking forward to, and dreading this day like you wouldn't believe. On the one hand, I got to see him for the first time in two weeks. On the other hand...I knew that reunion would come to an end...and when it did, it would be for a lot longer than two weeks. When I got to the hotel, I went running into his arms. I was so excited to see him I couldn't contain it. It almost didn't feel real. Seeing him, touching him, kissing him...it was like some wonderful dream...and one I wish would never end.
The first night was fantastic. We went out to the bar with a group of his soldiers at about 9:30 (and I finally got to eat dinner). I got to meet his people (and I'm apparently the first of his girlfriends he's ever done this with). We laughed, we joked...we stayed up late and shut the bar down ;) He surprised me with wine, a bubble bath, reese's pieces and more kisses than a girl could ask for. He fell asleep...I climbed into our room's whirlpool, and eventually crawled in next to him. It was like home to me. I can't explain it. Those arms...it's just where I'm meant to be. It's as simple as that. He slept...I watched. I couldn't fall asleep. Suddenly I wasn't tired at all, and the last thing I wanted to do was close my eyes. I might miss something. What...I'm not sure, but I didn't want to chance it. Eventually, exhaustion prevailed. I dozed off at about 4:30...excuse me 0430...and was up and at 'em when my soldier woke up for the day at 0630.
Two hours of sleep and I never felt better ;)
From there...he headed off to the Armory...and within minutes, his family was knocking at the hotel room door. I spent the day with them, cruising around town, going on a scavenger hunt for the fairgrounds, and the Armory, and then to lunch before heading back to see Jonny again at the hotel. Then...deployment ceremony time. Patriot Guard members lined the parking lot holding their flags. The place was buzzing with activity hours before the ceremony started. We got seats in some bleachers off the side, and my 5'1" self was very pleased with the concept of elevated seating.
The ceremony was beautiful. Watching them march in gave me goose bumps. Luckily for me, he was in the front row, I could see him perfectly...and I never took my eyes off of him. Sure, I listened to the speakers, but I had no desire to actually watch them. I stared at my Jonny...stealing as many looks as I could while I still had the opportunity to do so. I held it together well. I thought for sure I'd be crying at this thing like a baby...surprisingly, I wasn't. If anything, I was proud. My little chest was all puffed up. That's my man. That's my baby. That's my hero. When the men at the podium talked about how brave they were, how strong they were, how selfless they were...I couldn't even think about crying. I was too proud to think that someone that fit that description even thought about wasting his time with me. Endlessly proud...that's what I was.
Until a retired Colonel took to the stage. His speech was powerful and inspiring. You could have heard a pin drop. And then his voice started cracking...and rather than a pin, you heard the collective sniffles of the crowd, and watched as a single tear made its slow descent down my cheek...hurdling its way to my thigh with a splash.
This man was good.
From that point, the tears were sporadic. Here or there, I'd well up...but overall, I kept it together well. Until...that handsome man of mine started his swagger towards us in his ACUs. To be honest, I wasn't even sure he knew where we were sitting. I saw him do his family's patented nose tap during the ceremony, but wasn't sure if that was an intent delivery, or done with the hope that maybe his loved ones lost somewhere among the masses may have seen this one familiar gesture, swell with pride and think, "That's our Jonny."
Well, he did see us, because as soon as it was over, he started walking right towards us. Seeing him...witnessing that...knowing that a hug was so close, I lost it. I think the reality of what was to come was finally sinking in. It wasn't the deployment ceremony...or the pomp and circumstance...or the uniforms...or the speakers...it was the thought that, in less than 12 hours...I would be kissing him for the last time in 12 months.
And that's when that damn clock started ticking again.
12 hours. And I'd be asleep for part of it. Suddenly it felt like the walls were closing in. My heart started pounding, I couldn't breathe. The only thing that came naturally, were tears...and those were the one thing I promised him I wouldn't do at this ceremony.
So...I did the next best thing, I turned my back. I saw as he approached, I heard him hug his family...and I just faced the opposite direction hoping my tears would go unnoticed.
They didn't.
His sister and dad told me to turn around. They even joked that the guy in the row behind me had a very large onion. I laughed, but it hurt.
Tick, Tock.
We went for a walk...and met the Captain of his Company. Before long, we were out the door...and on our way to Applebee's. Dinner came and went...and so did his family. As I watched the hugs, I wasn't sure who was braver, Jonny or his family. I was envious of their strength. Envious of their shallow tear ducts, or (more likely) the immense amount of willpower it took to suppress those emotions. It's something I lack. My emotions are right on the surface. It's hard to mask them. Impossible to do so if you actually know me.
Tick, Tock.
Once they left, I broke down. I crumpled into a messy heap of tears. I sobbed. For the first time in weeks, I let it all out...I let it all go. My goal was to not cry until I actually had to say good bye. I didn't make it. I sobbed. It was messy...it wasn't at all pretty. But it felt good. It felt good to get out weeks of pent up emotion.
I blame the Colonel.
We bickered a bit that night. Not sure why. We both hate it. We both make up instantly. I blame the stress of deployment...I think it wears on us. Actually - let me speak for me...in my case, I know it does. And as quickly as we argued...we made up. We snuggled. He held me all night long, never let go, and I slept like a baby.
Tick, Tock.
The 5am alarm came far too soon. I wasn't ready. I wanted to stop time. I instantly wanted one more day...one more hour. One more chance. I wasn't ready to walk away. I wasn't ready to say good bye. I wasn't ready for all of this to end.
I realize it's not ending. I realize he'll just be gone for a year. I realize he'll come back. I just hope it's to me. The thought of living without him, spending our first Christmas without him, not being able to kiss him on New Year's, spending Valentine's Day alone, and not having him be there for our anniversary weighed heavy on my heart. I love this man. I adore him. I can't imagine leaving him.
Tick, tock.
Yet, in just 60 minutes, I'd have to do just that. I cried in the shower, hoping the water would drown out my sobs. I cried when I got dressed, cried as I put on my make-up. I cried when I packed up my bags, and cried when I looked at his sweet face as he fell back asleep. How could I leave that face?
Tick, Tock.
He walked me out. And once I loaded up my car, and he pulled me in close, I lost it. I sobbed. I sobbed harder than I did the night before. Despite the fact that I was embarassed...despite the fact I felt bad for making it harder for him...I did it all again. Huge, dramatic, over the top. My heart was breaking. Absolutely breaking. As I said, you can't possibly understand what it's like.
I cried for the first 45 minutes of the car ride. And once my tears slowed to a trickle, I called my best friend, who told me she'd be standing by and waiting for my call, no matter what time. We talked, I cried. She calmed me down. I talked to Jonny for awhile after that, and then called his parents and talked to them for a bit.
I miss him. I miss him with every fiber in my being. A life without him isn't a life worth living. Thankfully, I only have to do it for 365 more days.
365 more days and he's back in my arms once again.
The clock is once again ticking...but this time...I hardly notice it.
Tick, Tock...
I've covered deployment ceremonies. I've interviewed crying mothers. I've watched as fathers kiss their children good bye. I've heard the sobs, seen the shakes, watched the worlds shatter. I've witnessed it. I've been there. I've felt it.
Nothing could have prepared me for this.
Nothing.
And it's nothing that I can explain to you. Nothing you'll ever truly grasp until you're there. Until you're standing there in a crowd of hundreds of people, waving an American flag and praying as hard as you can that your soldier can't see your tears from across the field house.
I know he'll be fine. He is so brave, and so smart and so intelligent. More than my boyfriend or my best friend...he's my living, walking, breathing hero. I love him more than words can say.
Saying good bye to him was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
I was both looking forward to, and dreading this day like you wouldn't believe. On the one hand, I got to see him for the first time in two weeks. On the other hand...I knew that reunion would come to an end...and when it did, it would be for a lot longer than two weeks. When I got to the hotel, I went running into his arms. I was so excited to see him I couldn't contain it. It almost didn't feel real. Seeing him, touching him, kissing him...it was like some wonderful dream...and one I wish would never end.
The first night was fantastic. We went out to the bar with a group of his soldiers at about 9:30 (and I finally got to eat dinner). I got to meet his people (and I'm apparently the first of his girlfriends he's ever done this with). We laughed, we joked...we stayed up late and shut the bar down ;) He surprised me with wine, a bubble bath, reese's pieces and more kisses than a girl could ask for. He fell asleep...I climbed into our room's whirlpool, and eventually crawled in next to him. It was like home to me. I can't explain it. Those arms...it's just where I'm meant to be. It's as simple as that. He slept...I watched. I couldn't fall asleep. Suddenly I wasn't tired at all, and the last thing I wanted to do was close my eyes. I might miss something. What...I'm not sure, but I didn't want to chance it. Eventually, exhaustion prevailed. I dozed off at about 4:30...excuse me 0430...and was up and at 'em when my soldier woke up for the day at 0630.
Two hours of sleep and I never felt better ;)
From there...he headed off to the Armory...and within minutes, his family was knocking at the hotel room door. I spent the day with them, cruising around town, going on a scavenger hunt for the fairgrounds, and the Armory, and then to lunch before heading back to see Jonny again at the hotel. Then...deployment ceremony time. Patriot Guard members lined the parking lot holding their flags. The place was buzzing with activity hours before the ceremony started. We got seats in some bleachers off the side, and my 5'1" self was very pleased with the concept of elevated seating.
The ceremony was beautiful. Watching them march in gave me goose bumps. Luckily for me, he was in the front row, I could see him perfectly...and I never took my eyes off of him. Sure, I listened to the speakers, but I had no desire to actually watch them. I stared at my Jonny...stealing as many looks as I could while I still had the opportunity to do so. I held it together well. I thought for sure I'd be crying at this thing like a baby...surprisingly, I wasn't. If anything, I was proud. My little chest was all puffed up. That's my man. That's my baby. That's my hero. When the men at the podium talked about how brave they were, how strong they were, how selfless they were...I couldn't even think about crying. I was too proud to think that someone that fit that description even thought about wasting his time with me. Endlessly proud...that's what I was.
Until a retired Colonel took to the stage. His speech was powerful and inspiring. You could have heard a pin drop. And then his voice started cracking...and rather than a pin, you heard the collective sniffles of the crowd, and watched as a single tear made its slow descent down my cheek...hurdling its way to my thigh with a splash.
This man was good.
From that point, the tears were sporadic. Here or there, I'd well up...but overall, I kept it together well. Until...that handsome man of mine started his swagger towards us in his ACUs. To be honest, I wasn't even sure he knew where we were sitting. I saw him do his family's patented nose tap during the ceremony, but wasn't sure if that was an intent delivery, or done with the hope that maybe his loved ones lost somewhere among the masses may have seen this one familiar gesture, swell with pride and think, "That's our Jonny."
Well, he did see us, because as soon as it was over, he started walking right towards us. Seeing him...witnessing that...knowing that a hug was so close, I lost it. I think the reality of what was to come was finally sinking in. It wasn't the deployment ceremony...or the pomp and circumstance...or the uniforms...or the speakers...it was the thought that, in less than 12 hours...I would be kissing him for the last time in 12 months.
And that's when that damn clock started ticking again.
12 hours. And I'd be asleep for part of it. Suddenly it felt like the walls were closing in. My heart started pounding, I couldn't breathe. The only thing that came naturally, were tears...and those were the one thing I promised him I wouldn't do at this ceremony.
So...I did the next best thing, I turned my back. I saw as he approached, I heard him hug his family...and I just faced the opposite direction hoping my tears would go unnoticed.
They didn't.
His sister and dad told me to turn around. They even joked that the guy in the row behind me had a very large onion. I laughed, but it hurt.
Tick, Tock.
We went for a walk...and met the Captain of his Company. Before long, we were out the door...and on our way to Applebee's. Dinner came and went...and so did his family. As I watched the hugs, I wasn't sure who was braver, Jonny or his family. I was envious of their strength. Envious of their shallow tear ducts, or (more likely) the immense amount of willpower it took to suppress those emotions. It's something I lack. My emotions are right on the surface. It's hard to mask them. Impossible to do so if you actually know me.
Tick, Tock.
Once they left, I broke down. I crumpled into a messy heap of tears. I sobbed. For the first time in weeks, I let it all out...I let it all go. My goal was to not cry until I actually had to say good bye. I didn't make it. I sobbed. It was messy...it wasn't at all pretty. But it felt good. It felt good to get out weeks of pent up emotion.
I blame the Colonel.
We bickered a bit that night. Not sure why. We both hate it. We both make up instantly. I blame the stress of deployment...I think it wears on us. Actually - let me speak for me...in my case, I know it does. And as quickly as we argued...we made up. We snuggled. He held me all night long, never let go, and I slept like a baby.
Tick, Tock.
The 5am alarm came far too soon. I wasn't ready. I wanted to stop time. I instantly wanted one more day...one more hour. One more chance. I wasn't ready to walk away. I wasn't ready to say good bye. I wasn't ready for all of this to end.
I realize it's not ending. I realize he'll just be gone for a year. I realize he'll come back. I just hope it's to me. The thought of living without him, spending our first Christmas without him, not being able to kiss him on New Year's, spending Valentine's Day alone, and not having him be there for our anniversary weighed heavy on my heart. I love this man. I adore him. I can't imagine leaving him.
Tick, tock.
Yet, in just 60 minutes, I'd have to do just that. I cried in the shower, hoping the water would drown out my sobs. I cried when I got dressed, cried as I put on my make-up. I cried when I packed up my bags, and cried when I looked at his sweet face as he fell back asleep. How could I leave that face?
Tick, Tock.
He walked me out. And once I loaded up my car, and he pulled me in close, I lost it. I sobbed. I sobbed harder than I did the night before. Despite the fact that I was embarassed...despite the fact I felt bad for making it harder for him...I did it all again. Huge, dramatic, over the top. My heart was breaking. Absolutely breaking. As I said, you can't possibly understand what it's like.
I cried for the first 45 minutes of the car ride. And once my tears slowed to a trickle, I called my best friend, who told me she'd be standing by and waiting for my call, no matter what time. We talked, I cried. She calmed me down. I talked to Jonny for awhile after that, and then called his parents and talked to them for a bit.
I miss him. I miss him with every fiber in my being. A life without him isn't a life worth living. Thankfully, I only have to do it for 365 more days.
365 more days and he's back in my arms once again.
The clock is once again ticking...but this time...I hardly notice it.
Tick, Tock...
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Dear Jon...
May 24, 2011
Dear Jonny,
What do you say in a good bye letter? What do you say when all the words fall short? I love you? I miss you? That doesn't even begin to describe how I feel about you. Not even close. So what do you say? I'm not sure words will ever be enough...but for the moment, they're all I have.
Truth is, I can't imagine spending a day without you...let alone a year. But I will do it. We will do it...because I can't imagine spending the rest of my life without you either.
I fell in love with you the moment I met you. Seriously. As mushy and romantic as I am, I didn't even belive that love at first sight existed. And then I met you and that all changed. Simply put - you took my breath away, and that first kiss in the parking lot sealed the deal for me. Fireworks. I literally saw fireworks :) And I've never looked back. I fall deeper in love with you every single day. I love you more than anyone or anything in this world, and I know without a doubt, that you are the one for me.
I can only hope that you feel the exact same way.
So, here's my promise to you. I will wait for you. I will wait all 365 days until you come home and are back in my arms once again. I will love you with every fiber in my being for as long as you'll let me. I will be yours...mind, body and soul. 100% devoted to you. Seems a little over the top...but every word of it is true, and I want to make sure you know exactly how I feel before you leave. And should you ever forget when you're in the middle of a desert thousands of miles away - I want you to pull this letter out, and remind yourself. You're all I want...all I need...and everything I've been hoping for.
To say I'm the luckiest girl in the world doesn't begin to describe it.
I will pray for you Jonny. Every day. Every night. I will think of you constantly and miss you terribly. And yes, I will cry - but I'll be OK. This deployment will make us stronger and bring us closer together -- just like AT did. I can't stomach the thought that God would have brought you into my life, just to take you away. He can't be that cruel. We will make it through this, I promise.
I love you. Today. Tomorrow. And 365 days from now. You're my everything, and I can't wait for you to come home.
- Sarah
Dear Jonny,
What do you say in a good bye letter? What do you say when all the words fall short? I love you? I miss you? That doesn't even begin to describe how I feel about you. Not even close. So what do you say? I'm not sure words will ever be enough...but for the moment, they're all I have.
Truth is, I can't imagine spending a day without you...let alone a year. But I will do it. We will do it...because I can't imagine spending the rest of my life without you either.
I fell in love with you the moment I met you. Seriously. As mushy and romantic as I am, I didn't even belive that love at first sight existed. And then I met you and that all changed. Simply put - you took my breath away, and that first kiss in the parking lot sealed the deal for me. Fireworks. I literally saw fireworks :) And I've never looked back. I fall deeper in love with you every single day. I love you more than anyone or anything in this world, and I know without a doubt, that you are the one for me.
I can only hope that you feel the exact same way.
So, here's my promise to you. I will wait for you. I will wait all 365 days until you come home and are back in my arms once again. I will love you with every fiber in my being for as long as you'll let me. I will be yours...mind, body and soul. 100% devoted to you. Seems a little over the top...but every word of it is true, and I want to make sure you know exactly how I feel before you leave. And should you ever forget when you're in the middle of a desert thousands of miles away - I want you to pull this letter out, and remind yourself. You're all I want...all I need...and everything I've been hoping for.
To say I'm the luckiest girl in the world doesn't begin to describe it.
I will pray for you Jonny. Every day. Every night. I will think of you constantly and miss you terribly. And yes, I will cry - but I'll be OK. This deployment will make us stronger and bring us closer together -- just like AT did. I can't stomach the thought that God would have brought you into my life, just to take you away. He can't be that cruel. We will make it through this, I promise.
I love you. Today. Tomorrow. And 365 days from now. You're my everything, and I can't wait for you to come home.
- Sarah
Friday, May 20, 2011
A Promise of a Promise
"Yanno what I think? I think living without you sucks. I think going to bed alone and not being able to kiss you and touch your skin is nothing short of waterboarding. I love you so much...words fall short. And I absolutely hate being away from you."
"No kidding. I don't like this :("
"Thank you for not saying 'oh honey.' I love you sweetie. I really do. I hate being away from you...and I know I can't say it...but you know what I'm thinking anyway...so...there you go."
"How bout we go shiny shiny looking next June."
"Serious?"
" :) I think your smile is so big it smacked me in the face."
He was right...it was. The biggest smile I've had on my face in awhile. On the surface, you may not understand why...but if you knew that the "it" in "I can't say it" was referencing marriage...and "shiny shiny" is our word for jewelry...well...
you'd be smiling too.
"No kidding. I don't like this :("
"Thank you for not saying 'oh honey.' I love you sweetie. I really do. I hate being away from you...and I know I can't say it...but you know what I'm thinking anyway...so...there you go."
"How bout we go shiny shiny looking next June."
"Serious?"
" :) I think your smile is so big it smacked me in the face."
He was right...it was. The biggest smile I've had on my face in awhile. On the surface, you may not understand why...but if you knew that the "it" in "I can't say it" was referencing marriage...and "shiny shiny" is our word for jewelry...well...
you'd be smiling too.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
The Anticipation is the Worst...
I'm having a difficult time with today. I'm not sure why. All I do know is that my heart feels heavy. It's amazing to me how my feelings can fluctuate so quickly. It's almost as if I'm bipolar. (I'm not). I liken it to a roller coaster - the anticipation is the worst part, right? I mean...when you pick the biggest roller coaster in the park, your adrenalin is pumping. You're more excited than anything else, and it doesn't even occur to you, that things are gonna get real scary in half an hour (or however long it takes you to get to the front of the line).
Then you wait.
You watch.
You see person after person in front of you work their way to the front of the line. You see them ride the coaster and scream, cry, puke, shake, whatever...and then you suddenly wonder why the hell you got in this line to begin with. I mean...you're doing this to yourself, right? You paid to enter the park, you made the decision to stand in line...and (at one point) you thought it would be a great idea to project yourself through the air like a high-speed missile. And what for? If you're that scared...why do it?
Good question.
Yet...there you sit (or stand) snaking through the line...going through the motions.
It's the anticipation that gets you. The closer you get...the harder your heart beats. And just when you think it can't get any worse...you hop on, strap yourself in...and hear that God-awful clicking sound as the roller coaster slowly makes its ascent. You know it's coming. You know it can't tick-on forever, and in a matter of seconds there will be no more upward track, gravity will take its toll, and the whole thing will go hurdling downward.
From that point on...you're fine. The first drop is always the worst...and once you get past that, the whole thing almost seems fun. Screams are replaced with laughter. You're actually (somewhat) enjoying yourself...and by the time it screeches to a halt...you almost forget about those first 30 seconds when you were mentally preparing your will.
This isn't to say that I'm going to be fine once Jonny deploys. I don't think I will. I don't think I ever will be, until he comes home. I guess what I'm trying to say is...the anticipation is the worst. Knowing that he's in Minnesota and that I can't see him when I want to, or call him whenever I want to is wearing on me. Knowing that he's so close, yet so far away at the exact same time is painful. Not that I'm trying to push him out the door (I'm not), but I feel like it'll be easier to go through the motions, and fall into some kind of comfortable pattern once he's gone. It's like the difference between being told you can't eat the freshly-baked cookies on the counter, or knowing that you can't eat any cookies, because there aren't any cookies in the house. There's less temptation with the second, so it's easier to deal with.
::sigh::
Is it 2012 yet?
Then you wait.
You watch.
You see person after person in front of you work their way to the front of the line. You see them ride the coaster and scream, cry, puke, shake, whatever...and then you suddenly wonder why the hell you got in this line to begin with. I mean...you're doing this to yourself, right? You paid to enter the park, you made the decision to stand in line...and (at one point) you thought it would be a great idea to project yourself through the air like a high-speed missile. And what for? If you're that scared...why do it?
Good question.
Yet...there you sit (or stand) snaking through the line...going through the motions.
It's the anticipation that gets you. The closer you get...the harder your heart beats. And just when you think it can't get any worse...you hop on, strap yourself in...and hear that God-awful clicking sound as the roller coaster slowly makes its ascent. You know it's coming. You know it can't tick-on forever, and in a matter of seconds there will be no more upward track, gravity will take its toll, and the whole thing will go hurdling downward.
From that point on...you're fine. The first drop is always the worst...and once you get past that, the whole thing almost seems fun. Screams are replaced with laughter. You're actually (somewhat) enjoying yourself...and by the time it screeches to a halt...you almost forget about those first 30 seconds when you were mentally preparing your will.
This isn't to say that I'm going to be fine once Jonny deploys. I don't think I will. I don't think I ever will be, until he comes home. I guess what I'm trying to say is...the anticipation is the worst. Knowing that he's in Minnesota and that I can't see him when I want to, or call him whenever I want to is wearing on me. Knowing that he's so close, yet so far away at the exact same time is painful. Not that I'm trying to push him out the door (I'm not), but I feel like it'll be easier to go through the motions, and fall into some kind of comfortable pattern once he's gone. It's like the difference between being told you can't eat the freshly-baked cookies on the counter, or knowing that you can't eat any cookies, because there aren't any cookies in the house. There's less temptation with the second, so it's easier to deal with.
::sigh::
Is it 2012 yet?
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Greeting Cards, Tears and Fears
I teared up for the first time today. In my defense, I was in the greeting card aisle at the grocery store, and it was more of a mist than a waterfall of tears, but either way, I welled up. Ya see, I'm thinking about this whole deployment thing. A few weeks ago, I never would have thought about getting a "deployment gift" for Jonny. 1. He tells me time and time again, that he's a simple guy, who doesn't need a lot of "stuff" and gets sheepish when he's the center of attention/the target of my big-big heart and my aspiring-to-be-big wallet. And 2. The whole concept is a bit off to me. I mean, "Here's a gift to celebrate something you don't want to do. Congratulations!" And then there's that whole, I-have-no-idea-what-to-get-him-anyway thing. I've been scouring the internet for weeks, but everything seems to fall short. So I opted out of it, and decided I'd just write a really, really nice heartfelt letter...describing exactly how I feel, and exactly what he means to me. I want him to know that I love him, and our crazy whirlwind romance, and I'm not going anywhere. That's sweet, right?
Right?
Well, lately I've been having doubts. Is it enough? Will a dumb letter do the trick?
I'm not so sure.
Which is why I found myself cruising down the card aisle in the grocery store...looking for some inspiration.
Instead - I found tears.
The worst part is...this is the easy part. I've gotten to speak to him for the last three days. He texts me all day long. And I get to see his sweet little face when he sends me picture mail. It's tough that I don't get to see him, but I'm coping. Or...at least trying to.
But that'll all change in about 2 months. After his deployment ceremony on the 26th, he'll spend 45 days at Fort McCoy before deploying to Kuwait. If I cry in the greeting card aisle now...how on Earth will I survive once he really deploys? When he can't call every day? When he can't send me text messages? When he's actually in harms way?
One day at a time...that's how.
But it's not going to be easy...
Right?
Well, lately I've been having doubts. Is it enough? Will a dumb letter do the trick?
I'm not so sure.
Which is why I found myself cruising down the card aisle in the grocery store...looking for some inspiration.
Instead - I found tears.
The worst part is...this is the easy part. I've gotten to speak to him for the last three days. He texts me all day long. And I get to see his sweet little face when he sends me picture mail. It's tough that I don't get to see him, but I'm coping. Or...at least trying to.
But that'll all change in about 2 months. After his deployment ceremony on the 26th, he'll spend 45 days at Fort McCoy before deploying to Kuwait. If I cry in the greeting card aisle now...how on Earth will I survive once he really deploys? When he can't call every day? When he can't send me text messages? When he's actually in harms way?
One day at a time...that's how.
But it's not going to be easy...
Monday, May 16, 2011
When so little, says so much :)
For a man who says so little...it's nice when that "so little" says so much.
"I'm so in love with you and you mean so much to me, but we are out driving with night vision. Text you later when we're done."
"And yes, I do feel closer. You're my anchor, babe. Like on a ship, not the news."
Or my personal favorite...
"Sarah, you were right ;)"
::love him::
"I'm so in love with you and you mean so much to me, but we are out driving with night vision. Text you later when we're done."
"And yes, I do feel closer. You're my anchor, babe. Like on a ship, not the news."
Or my personal favorite...
"Sarah, you were right ;)"
::love him::
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Super Support System
You get support from all sorts of places...and you never really realize how good you have it until crisis strikes. Or tragedy. Or whatever.
You always see those posts on Facebook. "You have xxxxx amount of friends, but how many of them are real friends? How many of them could you call in the middle of the night..." blah blah blah. As trite and cliche as it is...it gets you to think. How many of the friends on your list...or even friends in real life...could you call at 2am? How many could you ask to check out a funny mole? or tell a story about how you farted in the bathtub (for the record...I'm making this all up). Before the whole Jonny deployment thing...I would have wondered. But that's all since been cleared up.
I'm no martyr. I'm not saying that I need a pat on the back for making a sacrifice, or special recognition. That's not what I'm asking for. But I want to praise the people who are coming out of the woodwork and reaching out. From the friends who send daily text messages to see how I'm "doing today", to the ones who make sure I can't walk past them without getting a hug, to the ones who send e-mails, or the ones who grab me by my shoulders and say, "I'm here whenever you need me. You know that right? Any time. Don't be stubborn. If you need someone to talk to. I'm here." It's pretty obvious that I'm loved, thought of, and supported.
There are so many of you who have reached out...and I thank you for that. It's gonna be a long, hard, tear-filled year, but it'll be worth it. 1. Because I'll be surrounded by people like you, and 2. Because when it's all over...Jonny will be back in my arms.
So...to the author of this text..."Just read your last few blog entries. The world conspires against you at times, but God doesn't put anything in your path that you can't handle. Stay strong and this too shall pass."...and all the texts to come...Thank you, I love you...and God Bless :)
You always see those posts on Facebook. "You have xxxxx amount of friends, but how many of them are real friends? How many of them could you call in the middle of the night..." blah blah blah. As trite and cliche as it is...it gets you to think. How many of the friends on your list...or even friends in real life...could you call at 2am? How many could you ask to check out a funny mole? or tell a story about how you farted in the bathtub (for the record...I'm making this all up). Before the whole Jonny deployment thing...I would have wondered. But that's all since been cleared up.
I'm no martyr. I'm not saying that I need a pat on the back for making a sacrifice, or special recognition. That's not what I'm asking for. But I want to praise the people who are coming out of the woodwork and reaching out. From the friends who send daily text messages to see how I'm "doing today", to the ones who make sure I can't walk past them without getting a hug, to the ones who send e-mails, or the ones who grab me by my shoulders and say, "I'm here whenever you need me. You know that right? Any time. Don't be stubborn. If you need someone to talk to. I'm here." It's pretty obvious that I'm loved, thought of, and supported.
There are so many of you who have reached out...and I thank you for that. It's gonna be a long, hard, tear-filled year, but it'll be worth it. 1. Because I'll be surrounded by people like you, and 2. Because when it's all over...Jonny will be back in my arms.
So...to the author of this text..."Just read your last few blog entries. The world conspires against you at times, but God doesn't put anything in your path that you can't handle. Stay strong and this too shall pass."...and all the texts to come...Thank you, I love you...and God Bless :)
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Dream Texts and Snoring Grunts
I have 72 pictures on my laptop. I stole them from Jonny's mom's camera. He's not really all that fond of pictures...but somehow his mom manages to sneak a few in...
...or 72 of them.
I loaded them all on my computer the day before he left for Ripley...and I've looked at them every day since. Sometimes several times a day. Who am I kidding? Almost always several times a day. I miss him terribly, and he's not even gone yet.
It sounds so pathetic. Even more so, when you consider I'm wrapped up in a newly-sewn American flag blanket, wearing one of Jon's Army t-shirts that I haven't washed in two weeks. I'm sentimental...what can I say? But I guess sentimental (and possibly stinky) is better than crying and depressed...so I'll take it. This marks Day 3 of no tears, and that's a personal record over the past few months. And it's odd...because even though he's gone, we're closer than we've ever been. Does that make sense? If anything, you think I'd be crying more...and be more emotional and depressed than ever before. But this distance is bringing out the best in us...and him. He's texting as often as he can, and saying the sweetest things in the world.
It's the little things, and I feel so teeny-bopper-esque gushing about it, but I can't help it. It's what's re-assuring me that I'm absolutely making the right decision by sticking with him, and that he loves me just as much as I love him.
And for some odd reason, he's deciding to open up now (as opposed to a few weeks ago, when he self-admittedly was "mentally and emotionally shutting down.") It sounds trivial, but when I told him earlier today I was having a rough day at work, he told me "Time to leave there, baby." When I said, "I know. The search begins this weekend." He goes, "Where are we going?" You should have seen the smile on my face. Just a few weeks earlier, he told me he wasn't sure he wanted to leave Minnesota and leave this life behind. That statement came after months of telling me to "follow the money" and he'd follow close behind. The change in heart left me feeling insecure and unsure of myself and our relationship. Having him re-affirm that our love was enough for him to leave Minnesota...meant more to me than words can describe.
But words do a good job of making me happy too...like this exchange a half hour ago.
me: "Sleeping, babe?
him: "Yes lover, I am."
me: "Sleep texting? Impressive. Love you."
him: "Love you too. It's automatic texting you that I love you so much ;) so I can do it in my sleep. It's dream texting baby."
Cute, eh? Except he only got it half right. Because if it was a dream he wouldn't be sleeping in a bunk bed with 40 other grunts snoring around him...he'd be here with me...
God, I miss him.
...or 72 of them.
I loaded them all on my computer the day before he left for Ripley...and I've looked at them every day since. Sometimes several times a day. Who am I kidding? Almost always several times a day. I miss him terribly, and he's not even gone yet.
It sounds so pathetic. Even more so, when you consider I'm wrapped up in a newly-sewn American flag blanket, wearing one of Jon's Army t-shirts that I haven't washed in two weeks. I'm sentimental...what can I say? But I guess sentimental (and possibly stinky) is better than crying and depressed...so I'll take it. This marks Day 3 of no tears, and that's a personal record over the past few months. And it's odd...because even though he's gone, we're closer than we've ever been. Does that make sense? If anything, you think I'd be crying more...and be more emotional and depressed than ever before. But this distance is bringing out the best in us...and him. He's texting as often as he can, and saying the sweetest things in the world.
It's the little things, and I feel so teeny-bopper-esque gushing about it, but I can't help it. It's what's re-assuring me that I'm absolutely making the right decision by sticking with him, and that he loves me just as much as I love him.
And for some odd reason, he's deciding to open up now (as opposed to a few weeks ago, when he self-admittedly was "mentally and emotionally shutting down.") It sounds trivial, but when I told him earlier today I was having a rough day at work, he told me "Time to leave there, baby." When I said, "I know. The search begins this weekend." He goes, "Where are we going?" You should have seen the smile on my face. Just a few weeks earlier, he told me he wasn't sure he wanted to leave Minnesota and leave this life behind. That statement came after months of telling me to "follow the money" and he'd follow close behind. The change in heart left me feeling insecure and unsure of myself and our relationship. Having him re-affirm that our love was enough for him to leave Minnesota...meant more to me than words can describe.
But words do a good job of making me happy too...like this exchange a half hour ago.
me: "Sleeping, babe?
him: "Yes lover, I am."
me: "Sleep texting? Impressive. Love you."
him: "Love you too. It's automatic texting you that I love you so much ;) so I can do it in my sleep. It's dream texting baby."
Cute, eh? Except he only got it half right. Because if it was a dream he wouldn't be sleeping in a bunk bed with 40 other grunts snoring around him...he'd be here with me...
God, I miss him.
Friday, May 13, 2011
If Tissue-Paper Butterflies Could Fly...
I posted this on Facebook the day Jonny left for Annual Training at Camp Ripley...but I figured having two posts on blogspot in one day would be too much (ha!) so I'm posting it now.
Enjoy :)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I'm handling today better than I thought. And you're not going to believe what I'm about to tell you. 1. I haven't cried today...though I'm convinced an angel or two did, because it was raining in Minnesota ;) and 2. Jonny called me this morning to tell me he was having an "emotional moment" when he realized he was leaving me behind this morning. Granted, my wording may be off a bit (it was 5:45 am, and I was slightly-less than alert), but it's pretty close. I love him. I'm proud of him. He's my living, walking, breathing hero. My Superman in Camo...and I couldn't be happier to call him mine :) I'm thankful for him and the sacrifices he's making, not only for me, but for total strangers. He's pretty remarkable.
Technically, my thankfulness post can end here...but it's not going to. Because, I'm not only thankful for Jonny, but for all the other wonderful people in my life. I'm thankful for everyone who remembered that Jonny was leaving for Ripley today, and for all of those people who squeezed a little harder when they hugged me today. I'm thankful that Jonny's mama told me I'm considered "part of the family"...(Jonny keep breathing! Ha)...because being closer to them makes me feel closer to him. And I'm thankful for a little boy in a hospital play room and the conversation we had on Monday.
I don't know his name. I don't know how old he is...or where he's from...or why he was in the hospital that day. What I do know...is that he touched my heart that afternoon amid a table of tissue paper butterflies. That was the craft project of the day. I already went through a bunch of kids, and this particular munchkin came in as I was getting ready to clean up and call it a day. There's no way he'll want to make butterflies.
Ha. Or so I thought.
He sat down, and not only wanted to make one, but several. He wanted to give one to his mom, and sister, and...me. (Please let the record show that he wanted to make mine second ;) ha). Anyway...we make his butterfly first...then...we make one for me. Now that we have two butterflies, he decided it was time to play with them. So...after he made them kiss (no joke), he made them fly. As I'm spinning around in circles in the craft room making my butterfly fly and soar...he makes his butterfly do a swan dive and crash to the floor. He then instructed me that it was my butterfly's job to rehab him...and take him to the butterfly hospital, to give him butterfly food and butterfly bandaids. And then he asked me..."Do you think butterflies can fly to heaven?"
I froze for a second...what do you say to someone else's kid in the hospital when he's asking a question about religion? Uhhh...and then it hit me. "I don't know. But if they can...do you think we should send a wish up?" His eyes lit up.
"Yeahhhhh!"
"What are you going to wish for?"
"For my butterfly to get better. What are you going to wish for?"
I sat still for a moment...leaned in close and said, "The exact same thing."
You couldn't put a price tag on that smile. "But...I already wished for that," he said. "So, you should pick something else."
"Hmmm....I'm going to have to think about that one peanut."
But that wasn't exactly true. Because I know exactly what I'd wish for. I wish the next year goes by like a flash of lightning. I wish for a convoy route free of IEDs. I wish he comes home without a scratch on him...and most importantly I wish for him to come home to me.
I wish for a world without war...and a love that stands the test of time.
And if that happens, I'll be thankful for that.
Now if only that tissue paper butterfly could actually fly...we'd be all set ;)
Enjoy :)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I'm handling today better than I thought. And you're not going to believe what I'm about to tell you. 1. I haven't cried today...though I'm convinced an angel or two did, because it was raining in Minnesota ;) and 2. Jonny called me this morning to tell me he was having an "emotional moment" when he realized he was leaving me behind this morning. Granted, my wording may be off a bit (it was 5:45 am, and I was slightly-less than alert), but it's pretty close. I love him. I'm proud of him. He's my living, walking, breathing hero. My Superman in Camo...and I couldn't be happier to call him mine :) I'm thankful for him and the sacrifices he's making, not only for me, but for total strangers. He's pretty remarkable.
Technically, my thankfulness post can end here...but it's not going to. Because, I'm not only thankful for Jonny, but for all the other wonderful people in my life. I'm thankful for everyone who remembered that Jonny was leaving for Ripley today, and for all of those people who squeezed a little harder when they hugged me today. I'm thankful that Jonny's mama told me I'm considered "part of the family"...(Jonny keep breathing! Ha)...because being closer to them makes me feel closer to him. And I'm thankful for a little boy in a hospital play room and the conversation we had on Monday.
I don't know his name. I don't know how old he is...or where he's from...or why he was in the hospital that day. What I do know...is that he touched my heart that afternoon amid a table of tissue paper butterflies. That was the craft project of the day. I already went through a bunch of kids, and this particular munchkin came in as I was getting ready to clean up and call it a day. There's no way he'll want to make butterflies.
Ha. Or so I thought.
He sat down, and not only wanted to make one, but several. He wanted to give one to his mom, and sister, and...me. (Please let the record show that he wanted to make mine second ;) ha). Anyway...we make his butterfly first...then...we make one for me. Now that we have two butterflies, he decided it was time to play with them. So...after he made them kiss (no joke), he made them fly. As I'm spinning around in circles in the craft room making my butterfly fly and soar...he makes his butterfly do a swan dive and crash to the floor. He then instructed me that it was my butterfly's job to rehab him...and take him to the butterfly hospital, to give him butterfly food and butterfly bandaids. And then he asked me..."Do you think butterflies can fly to heaven?"
I froze for a second...what do you say to someone else's kid in the hospital when he's asking a question about religion? Uhhh...and then it hit me. "I don't know. But if they can...do you think we should send a wish up?" His eyes lit up.
"Yeahhhhh!"
"What are you going to wish for?"
"For my butterfly to get better. What are you going to wish for?"
I sat still for a moment...leaned in close and said, "The exact same thing."
You couldn't put a price tag on that smile. "But...I already wished for that," he said. "So, you should pick something else."
"Hmmm....I'm going to have to think about that one peanut."
But that wasn't exactly true. Because I know exactly what I'd wish for. I wish the next year goes by like a flash of lightning. I wish for a convoy route free of IEDs. I wish he comes home without a scratch on him...and most importantly I wish for him to come home to me.
I wish for a world without war...and a love that stands the test of time.
And if that happens, I'll be thankful for that.
Now if only that tissue paper butterfly could actually fly...we'd be all set ;)
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Going Beyond the Yellow Ribbon
I'm so excited. I can't contain it. I know...a change of pace, right? I'm not crying, not ranting, not talking about how my world is falling apart...because I'm being the change I wish to see in the world...and making a group where there is none.
I've said on here before that FRG's and other groups are made for Families (duh...that's what the "F" stands for)...but there's nothing for boyfriends or girlfriends. We're welcome there for the social aspect, but when they talk about anything good...we have to go. That doesn't even take into account that most of these things are taking place in cities that are hours from where I live...or the fact that I simply don't fit in in these groups to begin with. I'm not a wife. I'm not a mother. I'm not a fiance. Just a girlfriend that's crazy about her soldier.
So I e-mailed our local Beyond the Yellow Ribbon chapter about starting a group for people just like me. I can't be alone...I know I can't, and if I'm feeling this way...chances are, dozens of other people are feeling this way too. We're all caught in this massive grey area. And I'm setting out to break free from that.
I wasn't sure how it was going to be received...but within an hour or so, I got a response back. They weren't just interested -- they were VERY interested, and wanted me to help them head something up. Next thing you know, we scheduled a meeting...and that little coffee meeting, turned into a big meeting with more people from the organization. I made my pitch (or my plea...haha)...and they're on board. They're going to help me facilitate a group for military significant others. We'll have mixers and speakers and outreach events...and they basically said the group is whatever I make it, and they're just there to help. I'm thrilled. I'm excited. I can't wait to get started. Not only because this will be a tremendous asset to me, but because maybe, just maybe, it'll help some other people in Southeast Minnesota...and if it does at least that...if it helps at least one person...helps them sleep, helps them understand, helps them feel a little less alone...then I've done what I've set out to do.
And I can't wait to get started...
I've said on here before that FRG's and other groups are made for Families (duh...that's what the "F" stands for)...but there's nothing for boyfriends or girlfriends. We're welcome there for the social aspect, but when they talk about anything good...we have to go. That doesn't even take into account that most of these things are taking place in cities that are hours from where I live...or the fact that I simply don't fit in in these groups to begin with. I'm not a wife. I'm not a mother. I'm not a fiance. Just a girlfriend that's crazy about her soldier.
So I e-mailed our local Beyond the Yellow Ribbon chapter about starting a group for people just like me. I can't be alone...I know I can't, and if I'm feeling this way...chances are, dozens of other people are feeling this way too. We're all caught in this massive grey area. And I'm setting out to break free from that.
I wasn't sure how it was going to be received...but within an hour or so, I got a response back. They weren't just interested -- they were VERY interested, and wanted me to help them head something up. Next thing you know, we scheduled a meeting...and that little coffee meeting, turned into a big meeting with more people from the organization. I made my pitch (or my plea...haha)...and they're on board. They're going to help me facilitate a group for military significant others. We'll have mixers and speakers and outreach events...and they basically said the group is whatever I make it, and they're just there to help. I'm thrilled. I'm excited. I can't wait to get started. Not only because this will be a tremendous asset to me, but because maybe, just maybe, it'll help some other people in Southeast Minnesota...and if it does at least that...if it helps at least one person...helps them sleep, helps them understand, helps them feel a little less alone...then I've done what I've set out to do.
And I can't wait to get started...
Friday, May 6, 2011
Eating Ice Cream by the Pint
I'm at a loss. I don't know what to do. I'm trying to be tough, but that's not working all that well. I'm crying. A lot. I'm crying way more than any one person should. I'm not sleeping. I'm wide awake until about 2 in the morning, I toss and turn all night and then am awake and up for the day by 6 (at the latest). Then I work all day and repeat the process. Oh, and I'm eating like a pig. Turns out my feelings are delicious...and I'm packing on pounds like you wouldn't believe. I'm fragile. I'm insecure. I'm scared out of my mind...and completely and utterly alone.
And he wants me to be strong? I'm the furthest thing from strong. Soldiers are trained to be strong. They're trained to be brave. They're trained to choke down their emotions.
I am not.
They're marching towards the edge of a cliff with their eyes on the prize and their chins toward the skies. No one wants to fall off a cliff. They're no different. But they do it because they've been trained to. They do it, because they know that the benefit to the whole is better than the risk to the individual. They do it...because they know that, even though they might free fall and feel entirely out of control in the beginning, eventually their parachute will kick in, they'll glide to safety...and if they don't...their sacrifice will be worth it, because they fought for what was right, they waged war against evil, stood up for the freedoms of million of Americans, and were heroic until their very last breath.
And then there's me.
Kicking and screaming. I don't have a damn parachute...I don't like heights, and I want nothing to do with this cliff. For that matter...I don't want my soldier anywhere near this cliff either, and if he wasn't so hell bent on jumping over the edge, I'd be clinging on tight to his ankles hoping that the weight of my lifeless, crying body would be enough to slow him down and have him reconsider. But he won't. Because that soldier is Jonny, that cliff is deployment, and like it or not, he's going over the edge.
He's got a lot on his plate. He's stressed, he's scared, he's terrified, and soon to be lonely. He's leaving American soil with the full knowledge that he may never come back. I can't imagine what that's like. I have no idea. Guessing only trivializes the experience, and that's not what I'm trying to do. But what I will say is this. I'm scared too. I'm terrified. My world is falling apart at the seams, I'm breaking down around every corner...all the while trying to keep it all together with bubble gum and toothpicks so as not to make it more difficult for him.
I'm being needy, dramatic and over the top. But I can't help it. It's hard for him yes, but it's hard for me too...and I feel like I'm caught between a rock and a hard place. The emotions build up and leak out eventually...and I long for a little comfort and support. I'm aching for some sort of promise, some sort of commitment, that yes, he wants to be with me when he gets home, that yes, I mean something to him, that no, he can't imagine life without me, and that yes, he loves me more than anything. I feel like if I had some sort of proclamation, my heart would settle down just a bit. But I don't. And I can't.
I know how crazy that sounds...we've been together for three months. But those three months have been brought down by the weight of his deployment. We knew from the beginning that this was coming, and we both made the conscious decision to move forward. The end has always been near, but we took a risk...and therefore propelled ourselves onto this fast track of "I love you", "I need you", "oh baby, oh baby."
Yet here I sit. On the edge of a year...in a state without family, and only a handful of friends. I have no problem waiting for a year. I love him more than I've ever loved anyone in my life. He means the world to me...honestly, he does. I just don't want to be "an option". I don't want to put my life on hold, make sacrifices on the home front, and come up short. There's no way to predict what will happen over the next year, but I'd like to know how he's feeling now, and if (from this vantage point) he sees me in his future.
I love him...from the deepest corners of my heart, and I just want to be assured that he feels the exact same way.
Until then...I'll keep digging my heels in the ground...avoiding that cliff...and eating ice cream by the pint.
And he wants me to be strong? I'm the furthest thing from strong. Soldiers are trained to be strong. They're trained to be brave. They're trained to choke down their emotions.
I am not.
They're marching towards the edge of a cliff with their eyes on the prize and their chins toward the skies. No one wants to fall off a cliff. They're no different. But they do it because they've been trained to. They do it, because they know that the benefit to the whole is better than the risk to the individual. They do it...because they know that, even though they might free fall and feel entirely out of control in the beginning, eventually their parachute will kick in, they'll glide to safety...and if they don't...their sacrifice will be worth it, because they fought for what was right, they waged war against evil, stood up for the freedoms of million of Americans, and were heroic until their very last breath.
And then there's me.
Kicking and screaming. I don't have a damn parachute...I don't like heights, and I want nothing to do with this cliff. For that matter...I don't want my soldier anywhere near this cliff either, and if he wasn't so hell bent on jumping over the edge, I'd be clinging on tight to his ankles hoping that the weight of my lifeless, crying body would be enough to slow him down and have him reconsider. But he won't. Because that soldier is Jonny, that cliff is deployment, and like it or not, he's going over the edge.
He's got a lot on his plate. He's stressed, he's scared, he's terrified, and soon to be lonely. He's leaving American soil with the full knowledge that he may never come back. I can't imagine what that's like. I have no idea. Guessing only trivializes the experience, and that's not what I'm trying to do. But what I will say is this. I'm scared too. I'm terrified. My world is falling apart at the seams, I'm breaking down around every corner...all the while trying to keep it all together with bubble gum and toothpicks so as not to make it more difficult for him.
I'm being needy, dramatic and over the top. But I can't help it. It's hard for him yes, but it's hard for me too...and I feel like I'm caught between a rock and a hard place. The emotions build up and leak out eventually...and I long for a little comfort and support. I'm aching for some sort of promise, some sort of commitment, that yes, he wants to be with me when he gets home, that yes, I mean something to him, that no, he can't imagine life without me, and that yes, he loves me more than anything. I feel like if I had some sort of proclamation, my heart would settle down just a bit. But I don't. And I can't.
I know how crazy that sounds...we've been together for three months. But those three months have been brought down by the weight of his deployment. We knew from the beginning that this was coming, and we both made the conscious decision to move forward. The end has always been near, but we took a risk...and therefore propelled ourselves onto this fast track of "I love you", "I need you", "oh baby, oh baby."
Yet here I sit. On the edge of a year...in a state without family, and only a handful of friends. I have no problem waiting for a year. I love him more than I've ever loved anyone in my life. He means the world to me...honestly, he does. I just don't want to be "an option". I don't want to put my life on hold, make sacrifices on the home front, and come up short. There's no way to predict what will happen over the next year, but I'd like to know how he's feeling now, and if (from this vantage point) he sees me in his future.
I love him...from the deepest corners of my heart, and I just want to be assured that he feels the exact same way.
Until then...I'll keep digging my heels in the ground...avoiding that cliff...and eating ice cream by the pint.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Time is Running Out...
Tick. Tock.
You can't escape it.
Tick.
That deafening noise that never ceases.
Tock.
You can turn the radio up, jam your fingers in your ears, twirl around in circles and scream and shout...but it will prevail. It always does.
Tick, Tick, Tick.
You can run...but you can't hide. Give it your best shot. It'll find you.
Tock.
I promise.
Because time stops for no one. The second hand will continue its swoop around the clock...and there's nothing you can do to stop it. Seconds turn to minutes, minutes turn to hours, hours to days and days to years. And there's not a damn thing you can do...but throw your hands in the air, tilt your face toward the heavens with tear-stained cheeks and wonder, "Where the hell did the time go?"
Tick. Tock. Tick.
My boyfriend deploys in less than a week. He'll be based in Kuwait as a Lieutenant with the National Guard, leading convoy escorts back and forth from Northern Iraq. He'll be gone for a year.
Tick.
I have 5 days.
Tock.
We've been together for (not even) 3 months.
Tick.
And now all we have is 5 days...
Tock.
Before 365 of the most miserable days of my life.
Tick. Tock.
And I can't do it alone. Military readiness groups aren't meant for significant others. Blood and Vows. That's what the military cares about. I'm not family...and there's no promise that I ever will be, but I love him. I love him more than I've ever loved anyone, and I've never felt more ill prepared for anything in my life. I can't be alone. That's why I'm writing this. I'm hoping this blog will help lead me to other people who have gone through, are going through, or will be going through exactly what I'm going through now...the deployment of a boyfriend (or girlfriend).
But even if it doesn't...I need an outlet. I need a way to express myself in a way that won't burden my loved ones. I need to be able to sit on my couch for three days straight, sobbing my eyes out, eating cookies dunked in ice cream and just let it all out...without judgment.
That's what I'm hoping to get out of this.
So who am I?
My name is Sarah. I'm 26 years old. I'm a broadcast journalist who's on the verge of saying good bye to the love of her life. I'm patriotic. I'm proud.
I'm Red, White and (mostly) Blue.
and scared out of my mind...
You can't escape it.
Tick.
That deafening noise that never ceases.
Tock.
You can turn the radio up, jam your fingers in your ears, twirl around in circles and scream and shout...but it will prevail. It always does.
Tick, Tick, Tick.
You can run...but you can't hide. Give it your best shot. It'll find you.
Tock.
I promise.
Because time stops for no one. The second hand will continue its swoop around the clock...and there's nothing you can do to stop it. Seconds turn to minutes, minutes turn to hours, hours to days and days to years. And there's not a damn thing you can do...but throw your hands in the air, tilt your face toward the heavens with tear-stained cheeks and wonder, "Where the hell did the time go?"
Tick. Tock. Tick.
My boyfriend deploys in less than a week. He'll be based in Kuwait as a Lieutenant with the National Guard, leading convoy escorts back and forth from Northern Iraq. He'll be gone for a year.
Tick.
I have 5 days.
Tock.
We've been together for (not even) 3 months.
Tick.
And now all we have is 5 days...
Tock.
Before 365 of the most miserable days of my life.
Tick. Tock.
And I can't do it alone. Military readiness groups aren't meant for significant others. Blood and Vows. That's what the military cares about. I'm not family...and there's no promise that I ever will be, but I love him. I love him more than I've ever loved anyone, and I've never felt more ill prepared for anything in my life. I can't be alone. That's why I'm writing this. I'm hoping this blog will help lead me to other people who have gone through, are going through, or will be going through exactly what I'm going through now...the deployment of a boyfriend (or girlfriend).
But even if it doesn't...I need an outlet. I need a way to express myself in a way that won't burden my loved ones. I need to be able to sit on my couch for three days straight, sobbing my eyes out, eating cookies dunked in ice cream and just let it all out...without judgment.
That's what I'm hoping to get out of this.
So who am I?
My name is Sarah. I'm 26 years old. I'm a broadcast journalist who's on the verge of saying good bye to the love of her life. I'm patriotic. I'm proud.
I'm Red, White and (mostly) Blue.
and scared out of my mind...
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