Fart Rainbows or STFU

Ooh boy, drama is a'brewing and I can see the storm clouds from here!

I recently stumbled upon a bit of a blog war going on between 2 of my followers, regarding negativity. Blog Follower A made a post about how the Navy fucked her. Blog Follower B commented and suggested that she was being too negative. Blog Follower A then spawned a second post addressing her own negativity and how it's justified and Blog Follower B followed suit with a post of her own about pride and positive thinking.

Or something to that affect...can't say I know for sure because I was viewing all of this with glazed-over eyes (somewhere in there I saw the phrase "fart rainbows")...

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No Atheists in Foxholes

I was trying to stay away from certain religious and political topics on this blog, just because I thought my personal beliefs were irrelevant to deployment.

But then I thought about it. Are they *really* that irrelevant? First I was bombarded with a barrage of emails from my FRO advertising chaplain services on base for "deployed spouses". Then I attended a unit spouse function that opened and closed a with prayer. Then I got an email from my husband about how his roommate requested a transfer out of their barracks because he couldn't "room with an atheist". My husband's own rear detachment once told me "There are no Atheists in foxholes".

And then someone asked me the burning, dying question:

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Deployment zombies

Wow...I don't know if this stage is "normal" or what.

When my husband first left I got into a routine and time passed rather fast. I was enjoying getting things done to surprise him and re-inventing myself.

Then I was excited for him to come for R&R.

Now I'm just like "WTF". I am so incredibly OVER this deployment that it's actually painful to even think about. I'm so insanely impatient that I spend almost all day sitting and dwelling on the time left. Time has slowed waaaaaaay down to almost a complete standstill.

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And it starts again....

I dropped my husband back off at the airport the other day to head back. :(

I'm already noticing that I've "restarted" my deployment cycle. Before he got here I was ok with the situation, getting by on my own just fine. Now I've restarted and am back at the hibernating depressive state (though not as bad as it was when he first left).  GRRRRRRR

Surving Survival

I got a letter from DH today (an actual paper letter). He was worried about me, not because I was losing it, but because I WASN'T losing it. I was actually surviving without him, and even though that's what he wanted me to do, I guess finding out I was actually doing it made him feel a bit neglected.

I thought about it and realized I'm actually getting by quite fine. There are many many many moments were I want my husband back, and I miss him every single day, but as far as "losing it" goes, I got over that months ago.

The first 2 months I was borderline psychotic, having meltdown after meltdown. And even now, my house is in complete disarray. That's actually the biggest change this deployment has done to me. Without anyone to appreciate my clean house, I've completely given up on even trying to make it presentable.

But I'm not psychotic anymore. I wake up feeling content, go to bed feeling content. I'm a bit more lethargic, certainly, and struggle on a daily basis to do menial tasks (like turn on the dishwasher), but I'm no longer losing it. I've come to terms with what I describe as the "single, but married" lifestyle.

Marine Corps Kind Of Life

What does it feel like to be married to a guy who comes home every night? Who is there on the weekends and rarely works late?

What does it feel like to be one of the those girls who cry over week-long business trips?

I was thinking about that today at my family's reunion. I was the only married girl there who's husband wasn't in attendance, and if that wasn't bad enough I had to deal with people's melancholic stares and sympathetic arm pats. Like I'm about to crumble into a million pieces and people need to "proceed delicately".

But when the reunion was over, I watched my cousins and their spouses climb into their family cars and drive home, and that's when I realized their husbands were going WITH them. It's almost as if I just assume that every couple lives apart for long periods of time. The idea of being with your spouse 24/7, every night, in the same bed, arriving and departing from functions as a COUPLE is just so foreign to me.

DH comes home for R&R next month and in a way I almost dread it. It's like a giant cosmic bitch-slap. My husband comes home just to leave again. It's a mini-reintegration, followed by a RE-farewell. I can just imagine what Borat would say: "Your husband is coming home....NOT!"

Factor in the recent fighting and stress levels through the roof, I'm actually scared of what's going to happen.

Oh, the DRAMA!

WTF is happening. For a while last month it seemed like I couldn't go a single day without fighting with DH. And fighting over long distance just really sucks.

There was actually a time when he was so mad at me (for things I still haven't figured out) that he threatened not to come home on R&R.

Well we got over the fighting...so I though. Until today.

Things I learned today, talking to DH:

1. The reason he never calls anymore isn't because he doesn't have access to phones, but because he doesn't want to. Why? Because the last time he called I couldn't hear anything and it was static so I hung up. Yes, apparently I "hung up" on the bad connection, which in his eyes equates to me hanging up on HIM and so calling isn't worth his "time" anymore, since I'm just going to "hang up" on him.

2. When he said he wasn't mad at me anymore, he lied. Apparently he is still mad at me and has been stewing over it for the past month, faking positivity.

3. He's mad at me because I went to a Passion Party. Not an orgy, not a hooker bar, not a strip club...a girls-only PASSION EFFING PARTY.

4. He thinks I only talk to him because I "have" to, and says I've stopped thinking about him and is "put off"...but I don't even know WTF he's put off BY?

I try and try and try to be online when he's online, even if I'm exhausted and can't keep my eyes open. ONE time I fell asleep during chat bc I couldn't keep my eyes open and suddenly I'm "pushing him aside". I write him emails every day about pointless fucking shit that I don't even think is worth mentioning. "I ate spaghetti today and moved the coffee table 2 inches to the left". I send pictures, try to show interest in what is going on over there.

And what payoff do I get? A chat that ends with "I have to be alone now". What more am I supposed to DO?

I don't understand what he wants from me.

Road Trippin'

Today I went on a little road trip. I drove from San Diego, CA to Salt Lake City, UT to visit family.

It was the first time I've ever visted SLC without my husband and it feels really weird. When he was in boot camp and combat training I was living at his mom's house, sleeping on the sleeper-sofa in the living room, and for some reason being back here again, by myself, makes me feel EXACTLY like I did a year ago.

All my progress and individuality and coping skills have miraculously vanished and I am back once again to crying myself to sleep. What is it about staying at this house that makes me miss him more? Is it because he grew up here? Because I used to live here with him? Because I associate me staying at her house with our first separation for boot camp?

I don't like it. I would go somewhere else, but I have a cat with me. My parents are anti-pet and a hotel is just too much hassle. But everything just feels...strange.

Military Love Letter

It seems our communication between myself and DH has been running dry recently. And I don't mean communication METHOD, I mean literal spouse communication. So I'm trying to revive it by using myself as a muse.

This was a letter I wrote to him on May 21. I wish I could back to that mindset and come up with something like that again, but everytime I try I end up with serious writers block. Who gets writers block writing to their own husband?

Lance corporal DH... I fucking love you! You seemed kinda sad today and I just wanted to email you and let you know how much I love and adore you to death! I want to buy a house with you and be married to you and have babies with you and grow old with you! Because I love you!


Each night when I got to bed, I lie down and I think about you and how much I love you and why I love you and how happy I am to be married to you. I know you are having a hard time over there right now and I wish there was something more I could do for you because care packages don't seem like enough but it's hard to do things from so far away.

I wish I could hold you and hug you and love you and kiss you and tell you how much you mean to me and how proud I am of you and how grateful I am to be married to such an amazing person.


That's what you are. You are an amazing and intelligent person and you are my whole world. I would do anything for you sweetie. I love you so much!!!


So go about the rest of your day and try to be happy. Think about the woman you have at home who is patiently waiting for you to get back and who loves you unconditionally. I love you so much!!!!

-Laura  

You Know Your Husband is Deployed When...

1. You cook something one night and the leftovers are still there in the morning

2. You know how to fill out a "customs form"

3. You only shave your legs when you think someone might see them

4. You get excited about "unknown" phone numbers calling you

5. You've exhausted every idea you could ever have about what to put in a box.

6. Your fridge resembles a liquor store and you suddenly find yourself accumulating wine by the case load

7. You walk outside to get the mail and immediatly run back in to get your cellphone

8. Your idea of "cooking" is microwaving a lean cuisine

9. You enjoy weekdays more than weekends because you don't like watching other families

10. You lose all concept of time and/or day of the week, all you know is "x-ish" number of days until he's home

11. You go to the bathroom, in the middle of the night, with the lights out, and the toilet seat is still down.

12. You feel like you're "married" to one or more of your friends

13. You see a couple kissing in the supermarket and immediatly run to the tools section to find a sledgehammer...

14. You find yourself standing eerily close to strange men on the street just because they're wearing cologne..and you haven't smelled cologne in a looong time.

15. You put a bag of trash on the porch and it's still there 3 weeks later

16. You know when the best time to go to the post office is

17. Your two major purchases each week are kleenexes and wine

18. You check your email every 15 minutes

19. You know what a "freedom 'stash" is...and secretly hate them.

20. You make friends with a bunch of strangers on the internet just because you're all going through the same thing ;)

The Men in My Life

As the deployment creeps along I find myself needing male company. So, I've enlisted the help of some "surrogate" husbands:

1. Jose Cuervo
2. Johnnie Walker
3. Jack Daniels
4. Captain Morgan
5. Jim Beam
6. Pyotr Smirnov

Those are the heavy hitters, the guys I turn to when I really need a strong shoulder to cry on.

7. Sam Adams
8. George Killian

Those are the quiet ones, the men who get me to a nice buzz while maintaining their emotional distance.

9. Dom Perignon

He's my Sugar Daddy. I only see him every once in a while, but he charms me with his money and suave-ness.

Yup, I have a whole cupboard full of men, ready to satisfy my every need.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a dinner date with Jose (and if I really feel like getting a pounding, I'll do dessert with Mr. Courvoisier) ;)

Week From Hell

Only way to describe it.

I've been fighting with DH for the past few days over TRIVIAL TRIVIAL things. It got so bad he threatened to stay in Afghanistan for his R&R, said he didn't want to come home if he was going to come home to this.

I haven't heard from him since.

And today is a day when I really need my husband. I spent the entire morning waiting at JAG, just to find out they don't have room to see me today and I need to come back at 6 AM on Tuesday. Then I spent the rest of the afternoon waiting at the police station to talk to an officer about the car sales fraud. They pretty much laughed at me (in their heads...but I could still tell...)

What is this girl doing in the police station rambling about car titles and smogs? None of this is criminal. Now that I think about it, I don't even know why I went to the police. I knew they were going to tell me the exact same thing everyone else has told me: small claims court. I just needed to hear it again. And come tomorrow, I'm going to need to hear it AGAIN.

And the next day. And the next day.

I'm all wrapped up in this small claims court drama, the fighting, the suing, the fighting, the suing...I could really use the support of my husband right now. I just need someone to tell me I'm not an idiot, to support my decisions. I'm not a confrontational person and all this confrontation and official letters and lawsuits and legal advice is completely against my nature and I can't handle it.

I've considered quitting my job just because I can't handle the pressure of work, PLUS my own personal life, PLUS the legal bullshit over this car. I can't handle it.

That's why I'm practically drowning in a bottle of white zinfandel right now. It's a miracle I'm even able to type coherently.

But damn...I didn't know White Zin. was so freaking good!

The Talk

Yup. Just had "the talk"with my husband a little while ago. You know, the one you don't really want to have but eventually comes up anyways and you try to change the subject but somehow still get into lassoed into it?

I was talking to my husband today and he was getting kinda angry at me for not being online as much. Which, I admit, is because my job keeps me pretty busy. I guess I have kind of put "communication" on the back burner because I've just been so stressed with other things and my time management skills are so horrible. I just figured the less I heard from over there the less painful it would be to live through the day, so I wasn't getting online as much and wasn't responding to his emails in a very timely manner (although I tried to make it a point to respond sometime that day).

But then he said something really weird. He said "all I do is sit here all day and watch people die."

And that led to "the talk". I tried not to go too deeply into things because I'm certainly in no emotional state right now to handle anything of that caliber, so I tried to keep it phrases like "how does that feel" and "is that good or bad?" or "I see". Then I tried to detour the subject by asking things like "how heavy are those guns cuz they look heavy?" and "how often do you do PT" but I couldn't get around it.

In the end I found out way too much about way too strong of subjects and now I don't even know what to do with that information. How do you respond when your husband tells you hes killed people? Bad people none the less, but still...I'm not possessed with wisdom enough to even know what to FEEL hearing that.

Is this real life?

Yes...so I stole that quote from the "David After Dentist" youtube video. But it rings very true.

I was sitting at the Wendy's on base today eating a frosty and watching the line slowly shrink when I suddenly had an epiphany: is this real life?

Is it?

Like...WTF happened to my life? Here I am sitting in a fast food restaurant on a military base with a husband at war.

A husband at war.

A husband at war.

A husband at war.

That just kept ringing in the back of my mind until I couldn't even recognize my own life.

How did I get in this situation? How did all that time slip by me unnoticed until the moment I realized my husband was at WAR?

It was almost as if I hadn't realized it until that moment. Like he was just on a 12 month vacation somewhere and I was bumbling around at home with tears in my eyes for no reason.

But now everything feels different. My home feels more empty than its ever felt. My life feels more fucked up than its ever felt.

I've joked about how I was "going crazy" but never really felt like it....until now. I really do feel like I'm going crazy, slowly losing my mind. My apartment has completely gone to shit. I feel so unmotivated that sometimes I can't even get out of bed. In fact, if it wasn't for my job I don't think I would even bother waking up.

I wish I could just sleep through the whole next year. Sleep is amazing. You're technically alive, but you're "unconscious" so you don't have to really deal with anything. Amazing.

I've made it halfway through month 4. Meaning if this was a typical Marine deployment, my husband would be coming home in 3 months. That's only 1 boot-camp length. But this isn't a typical deployment. It's a command deployment, meaning it's 12 months.

Meaning I still have 8.5 months left. That's a little less than an entire pregnancy.

Pregnancy..that's another thing that bums me out. My ovaries hate me. My uterus hates me. My husband's sperm hates me.

FML. I need therapy.

Deployment and Infertility

I was reading an article today about the correlation between depression and infertility.

"....Jealousy is probably the most painful, and more so because it's not really a socially acceptable emotion....There's also guilt for depriving spouses and parents of a child, loneliness and often loss of faith. Obsession is also a factor. [There are] many women who say they can't stop thinking about it, that it haunts them even while they're sleeping."

While I appreciate that someone recognizes the correlation, I was dismayed to find that no one has written anything about fertility and deployment. It's one thing to be depressed but be actively trying to concieve. But what about those women who can't do anything about it because their husbands are gone? I have a 0% chance of conception right now.

According to Kaiser, 80% of deployed men fear their deployment will affect their fertility later on, such as exposure to chemical agents, injury, or even death. In 2003 80 soon-to-be deployed servicemembers took the step of actually freezing and preserving sperm/eggs in case something should happen.

So why doesn't the military do anything about this? Why don't they educate their counselors, chaplains, and doctors about the mental health aspect of this? I'm sure I'm not the only spouse whos pregnancy planning was rudely interrupted. Yet the advice I'm being told is "oh just wait until he gets back."

I'm at a loss here. I can take my basal body temperature every single morning. I can pee on as many OPK's as I want, walk the fine balance between BMI and ovulation, take my prenatal vitamins religiously, and track my fertility every day of the week. But it's not going to make a difference. Pregnancy still requires sperm, and hard as I try I'm not going to conjure it up anytime soon.

In fact, it's the "pregnancy planning" that serves to make me more depressed. Every time I pee on an OPK and see the 2 little lines show up signalling ovulation, I write it on my calendar so that I can have a record, but my heart still sinks knowing there goes another one of my finite eggs, wasted on a month without a husband.

Then factor in the crappy communication. When he was here before, whenever I would get in one of my "no baby" funks, my husband was always there to cheer me up, make a joke, and most importantly to "try again" with. That's not the case now. When I get in my little "funks" I have to email him about it, wait a week or 2 for a response, and then cross my fingers that he's actually going to know what to say.

And what if something happens? What if he dies? What if he is injured? What if he sees things that he can't deal with and comes home different? All of those things are going to delay (if not completely terminate) baby-making hopes. And that's what I deal with on a daily basis.

And for the record...if ONE MORE PERSON tells me "it will happen when it happens" or some other ridiculous piece of useless advice ("just relax", "if it was meant to be, it will be", "embrace your baby-making energy", etc), I'm going to throw my fertility book at them. Unless you have some burning bit of knowledge or miracle infertility cure, just save it. I'd rather you say nothing than spout out some feel-good quote from the back of a fortune cookie (whew! Got THAT off my chest).

I've never felt so crazy/insane/depressed/angry in my life.

I turn 21 on Tuesday. Officially the age DH said I should be when we had our first kid.

Dramatic Deployment Story

Today was one of THOSE days. You know...the ones where so much stuff goes wrong that it almost becomes hilarious. And then that ONE thing just tips the scale and suddenly you don't even have the emotional stamina to cry, all you can do is laugh at your own misfortune.

WELL, that was today. It all started after work when I came home and remembered that the LDS missionaries were supposed to be coming over.

My house was (and still is) a complete and utter HAZMAT zone. I walked in the door after work and was bombarded with the vile smell of cats (I LOATH the smell of animals and 99% of the time our house smells like roses and cookies, but the past week I've sorta "neglected" the litter box). It just so happened that the litter box was so disgusting and full I decided that rather than clean it, I was just going to chuck the whole thing and start over from scratch. Seemed like a good plan at the time...

I jump in my car and race off to the pet store. I get there and they are CLOSED. I had a near meltdown in the parking lot so the lady was nice and let me run in and grab some of the disposable litter pans. I rush back home, set up one of the litter pans for them to use, gather up the other 2 litter boxes and begin hauling them to the dumpster.

I'm about halfway down the exterior stairs carrying the extra-large covered litter box (FILLED to the brim with cat excrement and trash) when suddenly I bumped the railing. The cover of the box flies off, the bottom pan crashes to the ground, tumbling down the stairs leaving a nice trail of cat poop all the way down the stairs and onto our neighbors front porch. *groan* And I'm not talking like there was a turd here and there, I mean the ratio of poo to litter was pretty much 200:1.

I rush to the dumpster, throw the box away, scoop up as much of the solid waste as I can, rush back upstairs, grab a broom, rush back down, and begin sweeping the cat crap underneath the bushes (what the heck else am I suppose to do????)

I get that mess cleaned up, head back out to the car to get the box of fresh litter I had just bought. It's one of those stupid cardboard boxes with the flimsy plastic handles...and I'm a weakling. So I'm hauling this thing down the walkway when suddenly the entire top of the box rips clean off and all the fresh litter pours onto the cement. Then it starts to rain.

So not only is there a pile of cat crap underneath the bushes getting moistened up, there are now 10 pounds of fresh litter becoming soggy and gross on the walkway. I rush back up, get the broom, rush back down, try and try and sweep it back into the box. The end result is there is now soggy cat litter with sweep marks in it,  and I have a broom cemented over with clumping cat litter.

I walk back into my house, on the verge of tears, and get once again bombarded with the smell of cats. So I decide maybe I can mask it with air freshener. Oh wait...I'm OUT of air freshener. So I turn to the next best thing...hair spray. I run around the house hairspraying everything trying to get the smell of herbal essences to permeate through the cat aroma. So now there is cat litter everywhere, trash everywhere, dishes all over the place, AND my apartment smells like a pet salon. Great.

At that point I was pretty fed up. I looked over and noticed my plant had died and my garbage bag had a hole in it. That was the tipping point. I picked up the trash bag and hurled it out the front door (literally...hurled). Next came the plant, flying out the door. It actually rebounded off the railing and back into the house the first time (sending dirt everywhere). But the second time it got some nice air and bounced off the stairs before tumbling down to the story below. I threw the broom off the balcony. Then I looked around for more things to throw, but there was nothing, so I stormed downstairs, picked up my plant, came back upstairs, and threw it out the door a third time, then let out a war cry and started laughing.

And that is the scene that the missionaries came upon....a histerically laughing housewife in pj pants standing over a pile of soggy cat litter repeatedly throwing a shriveled house plant from her second story apartment. They were nice about it...offered to dispose of my trash, newspapers, and dead plants. Then they pretended to overlook the horrid cat smell when they came inside to help me some more, and averted their eyes from the disgusting sink, all the while proclaiming that I "kept a fine home" and "they had seen worse".

They said nothing about the fact that I still have groceries sitting in plastic bags in the living room and I think I'm going to just pretend that maybe everyone does that...just to make myself feel better.

Sexually Deprived for Your Freedom...

has never rang more and more true than it did this past week.

And to the next person who asks me "how can you go that long without sex"...I just do. OK! ARE YOU HAPPY WITH THAT ANSWER? BECAUSE I'M NOT!

The shittiest advice ever

*I would like to apologize in advance for the vast quantities of foul language that I forsee in this post. I'm not going to bother censoring out my swear words like I do most of the time. So if you are easily offended by cussing, this is probably not the post for you*

OK! Today I stumbled upon a site for military wives about how to survive deployment. After reading for a few minutes I was just flabbergasted by how completely unrealisitc and BS the entire thing was. It was, quite possibly, the worst advice I have ever heard (with the exception of #1).

1. Allow yourself to feel bad. DONE!

2. Talk to your soldier.
What? I wasn't aware that communication was like an on demand movie. That I could just simply "talk" to my husband, whenever I wanted to. Geez. I wonder what I'm missing here, these past 2 weeks that I have been living without hearing so much as a peep from the other side of the globe...

3. Put a support our troops sticker on your car or wear a pin.
Yes, of course. Because supporting the yellow car magnet industry is going to make ME feel better about my life. Who knew a sticker held that much power.

4. Be positive at all times. Fuck that.

5. Keep busy.
 Fuck that too...I've been "busy" this whole week and all it's done is land me in the ER with even more of a stress ulcer than I already had.

6. Live your life.
 OMG, NO WAY! Here I thought I was supposed to live someone else's life!

7. Don't worry.
*snork!* Easier said than done. I could walk around all day telling people to simply "not worry", but you know that inside I'm freaking out.

8. Don't get frustrated.
FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK!

If you can't tell, this week is going horribly. I've already been in the ER once...contemplating going back. Last night I was drifting off to sleep when I suddenly started shaking. My heart was racing, my head was throbbing, my stomach was growling/intense hunger pains. Basically, I was having a low blood sugar episode. I've had them before, it's not really a big deal. So I went and ate some food. Well, I actually ate quite a bit of food, some complex carbs, soluble fiber, and an orange.

The pain seemed to subside so I crawled back into bed. 10 minutes later it came back. Now that is unheard of. Usually when someone eats something like 500 calories, they don't feel like they're going to die of starvation 10 minutes later.

So I went to the ER, where it was determined that I had low blood sugar and I was equiped with IV glucose and some other random fluids and sent home. I still had to work today, because the training is mandatory or else I forfeit the job.

All day today I have been battling the same hunger pains and problems I had last night. I ate a ton of food this morning and afternoon and no matter what I do I feel like I'm about to pass out from starvation. I have to work yet again tomorrow. So it's now 11:30 pm and I am SO FREAKING HUNGRY! I just ate another 4 hot pockets and feel like I'm going to throw up if I eat any more food, but my stomach is literally doing somersaults growling on itself and my head is pounding. I can't sleep I'm so hungry, but I can't eat.

I'm almost wondering if it's some sort of stress ulcer?

And then to top it off, I feel completely and utterly lonely right now/abandoned. I haven't heard from DH in 2 weeks, so it's not like I can just unload my problems on him, and tell him how I can't even function on a day to day basis anymore. I can't even really explain it...it's like my longing to be cuddled and hugged and stuff is like killing me. The emotional pain is SOOO intense that it's becoming actual physical pain

The Hardest Part....

Seeing all the couples.

I went to the zoo today with a guy friend. He had errands in San Diego, which was where my car was in the shop. So he took me down there on his way and we decided to swing over to the San Diego Zoo for the last 2 hours they were open. He's a Marine so he got in free and I got in for a spouse discount, so it just seemed like a nice little side trip to avoid going back to reality (me being alone, him having to pack his gear).

We spent a few hours walking around looking at the animals, making fun of British tourists.

But as fun as it was, it was equally as painful, seeing all the couples who had gone to the zoo that day and were hanging on each other, holding hands, laughing and giggling and cuddling on the tram. They were looking at us like "why are you guys not being cute", obviously unaware of the fact that he's not my spouse/partner and thus that kind of behavior is not appropriate.

And it was at those moments that I wanted so badly to run up from behind and grab him by the waist and burry my head in his chest and look up and find out that is WAS my husband and I WAS at the zoo with DH, and is WAS ok to be affectionate. But obviously, that was not the case, and I was punished to an afternoon of bittersweet fun.

And then the nail in the coffin of my loneliness came at the end of the day, when we climbed into our seperate cars and he waved and drove away. I could no longer live in my little fantasy of pretending like it was actually my husband. It felt like so long as he was there, I could trick myself into believing he was DH and I wasn't actually lonely. But then I was left in the zoo parking lot with a newly painted truck and a hole in my heart, watching someone who was NOT my husband drive away. I wanted to run after the car and scream at him to come back because he forgot me....his wife. And have him stop the car and turn around and it would be DH's smiling face and a "just kidding" expression. But I know it's not him.

I felt abandoned. Abandoned by my husband, abandoned by my guy friend, abandoned by everyone. And I climbed into my truck and drove away, catching a glimpse of another happy couple walking arm-in-arm towards their car. They were going home together. I was not.

Deployment: It's not that big of a deal

Ok ok, I know my post title seems completely contrary to everything I have spewed out in the past 2 months. I mean for heaven's sake I can't even put away my own groceries. But here me out...

A few weeks ago I met someone on craigslist. She is not a milspouse and has pretty much no connection to the military whatsoever. We were playing volleyball and she asked about my husband. I mentioned he was acually in Afghanistan.

Hearing that news the entire tone of the outing changed from a fun-loving day at the beach to an afternoon of akward conversations. She was acting like, at any moment, I might burst into tears and slit my wrists, like the mere mention of him would cause me to wail into the heavens like a depressed banshee. She was basically tiptoeing around the conversation, trying not to "tip the scale".

But come on...I'm not THAT fragile. I've had my ups and downs, but the last thing I want is for someone to treat me like a glued-back-together china doll.

Ya, my husband is deployed and it's not the most ideal situation but there's nothing I can do to change it and I don't want to go around all day playing the "woe is me" card (unless I'm talking my way out of a traffic ticket hehehehe). I wish people would just treat me like they always treated me.

There's no need to hyper-sensitize the issue.

So in that sense, deployment is not that big of a deal. Especially now that's it's been almost 2 months, I'm actually starting to become somewhat "accustomed" to it. I don't want to sound like I don't need my husband, but I can certainly see the "silver lining" (as one of my other bloggy friends put it in one of her posts).

For instance, I used to have to watch all my TV shows online because my husband would whine if I dared tune in to "Vampire Diaries" during his history channel marathons. But now I get to watch my sexy, un-dead day walkers on our 36 inch flat screen! With popcorn!

Oh and I can actually cook fish. DH hates fish (unless it was literally caught right in front of him). This morning I made scrambled eggs with smoked salmon. I also don't have a curfew. I used to always strive to be home when he was home, but now I'm not chained down to any specific time. Working out at 9 pm? Count me in.

The cats, of course, are loving his absense...probably a little too much. My husband has an issue of tossing and turning like a crazy person when he sleeps and my poor kitty usually takes a foot to the head at least every other night, or else he is accidently pushed clean off the bed. With DH gone, Skaggs can now sleep an entire night at the foot of the bed, undisturbed.

He can also hog the easy chair, AND lounge on the kitchen table. Yes, I let my cats hang out on the kitchen table. It's not like anyone eats on it. It's usually covered in papers and random things carried in from outside (purses, umbrellas, keys, bags, mail, etc). DH HATED the cats on the table. He said it was "unsanitary" and was always running around chasing them off and yelling. But I don't really give a damn, so cats on the table it is.