I'm not going to apologize for how I feel. I was going to - I literally had "I am sorry for the change of pace" typed. Then I felt like an idiot for offering up such condolences. Wasn't I the one a couple blogs ago saying how great it is that we have an entire section of our brains dedicated to processing emotion? Know it. Feel it. Appreciate it. Alright, so I'm not sorry for being sad or showing it by crying. There, it's out there in the universe.
I watched a chick flick and it made me sad. The interactions between the guy and girl characters very much reminded me of how my Swiss and I are together. The looks, touches, kisses, hand-holding, the playful verbal teasing. Everything. It made very real the fact that on a day-to-day basis, we don't get that. It's safe to say that I was wildly jealous (yes, of the freaking movie couple), which sent me into a lovely spiral of missing my man. And not just a twinge of the "I miss him" blues, but we are talking full-blown pouty lip and inward brooding. Not cute. And let's get this straight, people. This is not the first time that I've watched a chick flick since he's been gone. It's my favorite movie genre. I love sappy love-confessions. Normally, I can handle all of this. Normally, being the operative.
The movie ended happily (the assholes). I went to my room, still sulking and pouting. Talking to my friend Anna, I could not quite pinpoint the reason I was having such difficulty keeping it together, besides writing it off as me just missing Swiss. I told Anna that I felt like breaking down and crying, but that I didn't want to. Note: I absolutely hate, abhor, detest (etc, etc) crying. It makes me feel weak. People, this is not to be mistaken for me generally saying that crying makes you weak. It makes me, as an individual, feel weak. For the most part, I don't do it unless I have to. Perplexed, I wondered why I felt so strongly against letting my guard down and just allowing myself to cry.
Allowing myself to cry is like admitting to myself that he really is gone. Have I really allowed myself to feel his absence?
I mean, yes, it's clearly obvious that he isn't physically here. I realize this. I was with his mom and sister the day we took he and his brother to the airport in January. Then I said goodbye to him again in February after my surprise visit out to Virginia to see him. There is evidence abound to show that he is far away, besides the obvious fact that I just plain don't see him everyday. I hope it's not just me being crazy, but many a time in my life has there been an occasion where in my head I know something, but my heart isn't on the same page.
My heart realized tonight that its other half is across the Atlantic Ocean, and that made me cry. Hard. It made me feel impossibly alone. I felt insanely weak, and even admitting that to the universe makes me cringe. I want to feel nothing but happiness and productivity and pride for myself being able to get through the time apart. Crying to me, I realized, was something of an admission. If I cried, I would admit to myself that he really is gone, that I really am alone and vulnerable. Press the fast forward button if you like, and you'll find me still shedding tears. It continued for a while, I'm going to be honest. It really, deeply hurts missing someone you love. It's honestly as simple as that; what else is there to say about it?
I think I need to start following my own advice. If I'm sad, I need to buck up and just feel it. So what if I am sad? He's gone. Cry, then let the sadness pass and move on. Tears are not scary. What's scary is the fact that in the last eight months we have been apart, these feelings have been suppressed and untapped.
And also, this just popped into my head: a million times I have seen the quote "Treat yourself as well as you would your best friends". Do I do that? Hell no. I am far more understanding, empathetic and patient listening to their black clouds than I am my own. Now is the time that I learn how to treat myself like my own best friend. I need to put on my emotional stretchy pants and get ready for things other than happy, sunny and pretty.
One of the things that I realized during Gabe's first stint over there was that I did not WANT to be okay. I guess it's a bit in opposition to not wanting to break down, but what you described here seemed so bizarrely normal (if that makes any sense). For me, I was afraid of getting to the point where I was productive and happy because I didn't want his absence to ever feel alright with me (I know, it's pathetic. lol). So that took for freaking ever to work out and then during his second tour I felt more like what you relay here... I hardly ever really broke down because I kind of just glossed it over and didn't want to fully take on the reality that he was gone. All that to say: I think there must be some middle ground between the two extremes. Kudos for searching for it. It isn't easy - which must be why we have those extremes to begin with - but it's genuine and that seems to be what we're looking for in general anyway... Something true. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and experiences, Jen! And someday this will just be a memory... :o)
ReplyDeleteI'm happy to hear that I'm not completely whacked, so thank you for affirming that, haha! But finding balance really is the key. Pretending that everything is fine 100% of the time isn't healthy, and staying in bed isn't either. Keeping busy and not allowing pity to overtake a healthy mindset is best, and so is allowing yourself to miss them every once in a while. This whole thing is so new to me, I am just feeling it all out. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you for responding girl, and most of all, thank you for the support :)
I think the middle ground may be realizing that a military relationship isn't normal. They are gone for months, or even years, at the drop of a hat. Our lives are not our own, we can't really plant "roots" because we worry about PCS orders and such, and a carefully planned family function is subject to complete cancelation at a moment's notice. So maybe accepting that we chose this lifestyle, and all the difficulties that accompany it, is a step in the right direction?
ReplyDeleteIt's throwing out what we knew to be the definition of 'normal' and replacing it with a completely different one. It IS the life we've chosen, and I do think it takes some time to accept that, if that's even possible. They leave, they come back. We adjust to one way of life, only a while later to throw it away and start over again. A crazy cycle, but the proudest damn job I've ever had.
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