* * *
It's gotten harder to talk to Husband. At first, we lacked topics beyond "What did you eat today?" and "Baby learned a new skill" and that got depressing fast. We eventually found our groove, discussing dreams and decor and vacations ideas.
But then, I found myself increasingly verbally guarded, unenthused, ho-hum. I was genuinely excited, waiting for his calls - but after our initial "Hi!" I'd kinda retreat emotionally. I couldn't figure out why. Until I talked to another wife of a deployed member, and she mentioned the same experience.
"It's like emotional rationing, or something!" I tried to explain. "I'm scared to over-invest. And I feel too tired to overcome it..."
"YES!" She exclaimed, "Exactly!"
At least, I'm not alone. I promptly explained my confused realization to Husband. That helped. A tad.
* * *
Shortly before Christmas, we got the happiest news of this year: Husband was accepted for a prestigious masters degree program. He'll start next fall. This means he won't deploy again for 18 months. This means we get to live somewhere we had hoped to live. This is a minor miracle. We're thrilled.
Downside: We're moving a year earlier than I expected.
I spent about two days, giddy with glee. Then, I crashed into deep mourning over leaving our beloved home. And Little One's room, with the mint green, sponged duckies, and our garden box, with its finally fertile soil, and all the memories...
To overcompensate, I obsessed over shopping for our next rental home ridiculously early. Which is impossible.
* * *
There is truly nothing like parenting to help me understand how I want the lesser, but more immediate, more familar things in life - even when God is trying to give me better ones.
Baby howls, then crumbles in furious despair when I try to give her a better toy, or remove her current one so I can fix it, or show her a new way to play with it. She doesn't understand. She only knows the toy isn't in her hands anymore. And she wants it back.
I'm just like that.
* * *
Pretty sure that God gives us time for all we need to do, each day. But, maybe not enough time for Hulu, too.
* * *
I was trying to explain the fatigue of deployment to my mother, one night. "It's just so weighty, so heavy," I grasped for words. "The weight of decisions, even the little ones - just the weight of knowing I have to do many things alone, the weight of wondering if I'm parenting Little One right, the weight of being scared of burglars, of falling and hitting my head and having no one know I'm hurt, of wrecking our car, of never sleeping again, of reintegration..."
Some of it is my brain just going nuts. But, some of it is valid. I feel like I have no margin for mistakes, no one to offset my own flaws and missteps.
People think the worry about KIAs is what messes with you most. But, I block that out pretty well.
Instead, my brain gets terrified of locking my keys in our car.
* * *
It was great to be back in civilization for a bit. But, I found myself wary of parking lots. Maybe we've lived in Rural America too long, where strange men routinely tip their cowboy hats to me and wordlessly help load groceries into my trunk, then stride away politely; it was a shock to be back in an environment where no one smiled, but everyone stares. Menacingly.
Felt like I couldn't get Little One and I into our car fast enough. So weird. Paranoia doesn't begin to capture it. I know in my head that everyone in the metropolis is NOT a creeper, but gosh - hard to tell.
Also, the world was SO COLORFUL. I'm clearly not used to mass marketing anymore.
* * *
I have never missed my husband this much before. Not when we were engaged, not as newlyweds, not during previous separations. I physically ache for him. Inexpressibly.
... CAN NOT WAIT for him to be home.
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