I've generally been handling this deployment fine. Whenever kind people ask, "How are you doing?" I tell them, "I feel like I'm coping ok - I miss him a lot, but I'm functioning fine and not feeling depressed." I say it all frankly, since I know that's what they're fishing for anyhow.
But, in the last 72 hours, I've slithered into self-pity. It all started with an encouraging conversation at church with a guest speaker. She was the friendliest young mother (and military widow) ever, so my polite "I enjoyed your talk" handshake turned into chatter like we were lifelong girlfriends. Midway through the military-life-relating, the topic of "Do your kids stop sleeping when he's gone, too?!" came up, and we were soon after swapping sleep-training tips. I admitted that it had been almost a month since I slept longer than 1-3 hours, and it wasn't because I was afraid to let her cry - it was because, well, even if/when I'm letting her cry, I'M STILL AWAKE, hello!
"You poor thing," she sympathized, "Why don't you have your mother-in-law or a girlfriend come over for a few nights? You go sleep somewhere else, or put in earplugs, and let them make sure she's ok. After a few nights, she'll be sleeping solidly again!"
This struck me as a brilliant idea, until I got in the car and it dawned on me: I don't HAVE any relatives to ask. Nor friends like that. I don't have any local girlfriends or church ladies who I'd feel comfortable asking for such a miserable favor. And how do you ask for a favor not being offered? Sure people often say, "Let me know if I can help!' but I don't think they mean, "Suuuure, I'd love to stay awake for 72 hours with you!"
Or maybe they do. I'm bad at asking for favors. But in any case, at that moment in my car, I was quite sure I was optionless.
Then, I phoned my mom. In the midst of our conversation, she hollered at my sister "Ask Dad to pick up an onion for me - and remind him that [other brother] is borrowing the car this week!" And I sank further. I had been trying for two months to finagle a way to get our car into the shop for maintenance, but I could never figure out a way to transport Baby and I back home, or how to manage her eat/play/sleep schedule while they worked on it for hours. So there it was, still on my To-Do List, annoying me. If only someone would help ME.
* * *
This devolved swiftly into a hyperawareness of my overall burdens. Of all the extra things I do, which
I didn't realize I was so overwhelmed until my brain started ranting. Half these things weren't even written on my current To-Do List, which made me panic more.
... I do all our cleaning, all our shopping. Buy all the gifts for EVERYONE, plan and purchase all the food, including food he wants shipped to him. I have to make the photo books, write and mail the Christmas letters, organize our photos, sort the hateful, never-ending mail. Oh, and send him boxes of carefully chosen, usually-time-consuming items every 7-10 days, because I'm such a caring, COMMITTED wife.
By this point, I was fuming.
I'm his little spokesmodel. His representative to this stupid world of people who have no idea what he does, what our life is like, or how to sensibly inquire about it. I nurture HIS relationships. I write on HIS friends' Facebook walls, and correspond with HIS family and HIS colleagues and HIS coworkers!
It got more and more exaggerated. I really don't email his coworkers.
But, I MIGHT. It's not like he's HERE to do it! Ok, fine. He can email from anywhere. But, still. It's the principle of the thing. And he sometimes doesn't email people back, and then they DO come to me, because he never replied to them--
* * *
... About 36 hours into my embittered struggle, I realized what was tripping this off.
(1) I am feeling overwhelmed by parenting alone. Suddenly, Little One is acting out, and it's intimidating. And Husband is the most devoted father ever, so I'm really as un-alone as possible. I'm such a lucky wife. He counsels us from afar, admonishes her via video messages, thinks and prays and gives great ideas as much as possible. But, when she's throwing a tantrum or needing more attention than I can give her, or when I need to use the bathroom or unload the groceries and she's shrieking endlessly, I have no one here with me. Ever. So it feels utterly alone - functionally- at many points.
(2) He has finally hit his stride, over there. He's gotten settled. Found his rhythm. Is getting along with most everyone now. Feels significant in his work, and had adjusted to the food and culture and time zone and uncomfortable sleeping situation. People like him. They affirm him. He's becoming popular. He's finding his new identity.
But, I... haven't. I can't even keep us on schedule two days in a row. And we're going to be flying to a new location again soon, to spend time with family and friends for a while. And that will mess everything up even more. I almost don't want to go. I want to cling to my faint routine (such as it is) here. I want to create structure like he has. I'm jealous of him, in a way.
I must be prone to comparison, apt to start self-pity contests. It's ridiculously easy for me to be like, "Hey, you should try MY life! I cook and clean and do laundry and take care of ALL these people and neighbors and relatives and friends and YOU, and I shop and stress, and I can't eat or shower or sleep sanely, and I never, ever, EVER finish my daily To-Do List! So HA!"
* * *
But, I am where I am. He is where he is. This is our life. Getting worked up and furious about it will only drain energy. Don't go down that road. You don't have to feel this way. Remember, you can choose your emotions. This will not help you. Think thoughts that will help you. K? K.
Providentially, I finally recalled a conversation I'd had with a fellow military spouse: "The middle [of deployments] is hardest," she told me. "When they've already been gone for months, and you think the halfway point will be all triumphal - but, when you actually get there, you think, "Oh my gosh, this is only halfway? I have to do all that OVER, another time?!"
And we're not halfway yet. But, I feel the fatigue. I feel the weariness. I'm starting to understand why so many military wives just whine and complain on Facebook.
It's the same reason all wives gripe. Because discontentment comes easily, but perspective is hard to grasp when we need it most. And because battles are won and lost in our minds, before they ever materialize into immature Facebook statuses or sharp comments to our spouse. Because "from the heart, the mouth speaks."
I've been here before. The cure is gratitude. I know it is.
We all have so much. We have cars to stress about, and children to worriedly parent. Money to make stretch, and clothes to dislike, and email accounts that fill up with coupons and forwards and sales and calendar reminders and deadlines. I have a husband who works hard and faithfully, so much so that he's often not here with us. But, he wishes he could be. I have a home, and a yard, and yes - chipped toenail polish, and a rubbery dinner, still lingering on my messy countertop at midnight, because I got interrupted before ever eating it. But hey - it's still food.
When I list it out, I see more clearly. I have so much. No wonder it feels like a lot to manage.
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