Our household goods were finally dropped off last Thursday. Even though we’ve completely unpacked our kitchen, we have no spoons–well, we have 1 spoon. And only 1/4 of our forks. Justin wants to give up on them. I am still holding out hope that we will discover the lost silverware in a random box somewhere.
Before we left Kentucky, our kids received their first quarter report cards. Xander’s read, “takes an unreasonable amount of time completing tasks.” Justin and I have laughed about it for weeks–especially since Justin announced, “if I could write you a report card for life, it would say, ‘takes an unreasonable amount of time completing tasks.'”
I can’t deny it. Justin has unpacked about 100 boxes (probably not, but maybe); I have unpacked about 7. Maybe more, but I don’t know. It’s overwhelming. I hate it. Once a day I think we should just leave the boxes packed and throw it all away. Of course, if we did that, we would never find the spoons!
Justin has been gone 368 days. In this past year, I have done some crazy things, and learned so much about me.
I decided that being a Temporary Single Mom wasn’t enough of a challenge, so I upped the ante and took a full time job as well. Single Working Moms everywhere deserve so much recognition, especially those Moms who live far away from family or any support system. It is hard. It is lonely. At times, it seemed impossible. My last day of work came 2 weeks ago, and while it was bittersweet, I can look back at this year and be proud that I didn’t drown in an overwhelming avalanche of stress. What doesn’t kill you really does make you stronger.
I learned that you can’t put yourself last. No matter how many millions of items might be on your list, putting yourself on the back burner does not help anything. This lesson was learned late in my year–I really only embraced this one sometime around the middle of July. The world might weigh me down, but an hour a day throwing heavy weights around is better than any session with a therapist…but, it might also help that Terry the Torturer is basically my therapist.
People will try to sympathize with you, but there are only a handful of people who know what you’re going through. No, your husband’s weeklong work trip does not compare. It’s true, the sympathetic comparisons this go-around were much less stinging than they were when he was deployed. Every military spouse who has been unwillingly separated from their love has been there, listening to friends who can’t imagine how terrifying it is to know your love is somewhere dangerous, saying things like, “I totally know how you feel! One time, my husband went to California for a week, and it was awful.” While I’m sure it was awful, I doubt you also had to worry about the terrifying reality that you might not see him again.
This time, I realized that people didn’t quite understand my nonchalant attitude. When you said, “oh gosh, that must be so hard,” and I responded by telling you it really wasn’t, that wasn’t me telling you that it’s easy for me to be 7000 miles away from my husband for a year–it was me telling you that I don’t have to spend the next year panicking every time the doorbell rings. When you’ve survived a 15 month deployment, 12 months overseas and not in a war zone, is easy breezy.
I also found comfort in a surprising location: the women who participated in my aquacise class. These Army Wives of yore are the real deal. My generation of Military Spouse often forget that we aren’t the first. “My husband was in Korea, but back then, there was a war going on.” And there was no FaceTime, no texting, no phone calls. 60 years ago, you waited in hopes of receiving a letter from your love. In comparison, a year apart in 2018 is a cakewalk.
In less than 48 hours, my world will be back to normal. My best friend will be home, and I’ll get to torment him in person again.
I’m a lot stronger than I thought I was; I survived.
I met Justin in October of 2002. He was quiet. And…he was just really quiet.
I dated his friend, which is how I came to meet Justin. Proof that the events in your life lead you to where you are meant to be. Justin was getting ready to leave for the Army. For 4 months, Justin was always there.
Then he left for the Army. My unhealthy relationship with his friend ended. Through it all, the thing that upset me the most was that I was losing my tie with Justin.
Then the summer of 2003 rolled around, and was a rough one for me. By the end of it, I had spiraled into a deep depression, and as much as I told myself I was strong and single, I was anything but. My ex reappeared in my life, and we entered right back into our unhealthy on again/off again nonsense.
The best thing that came from me falling back into bad habits: one night at a party, Justin called one of his buddies. When his phone was about to die, he gave Justin my number. Finally, my friendship with Justin was no longer dependent on my being in an unhealthy relationship.
Thus began the most epic friendship of all time. We talked on the phone every night, for 2 hours or more. You might not think much of it, but this was a pretty big deal, because I hate talking on the phone. The greatest thing to ever happen in my life is text messaging.
I loved him. We only said it to each other a million times a day. He would tell me I should just marry him, and I would tell him he was being silly–we never even dated!
I would even talk to his friends, and they would say things like, “why won’t you marry Justin!?” Giggles giggles giggles. Oh my goodness, I can’t marry him! He’s my best friend!
When Justin left for Ranger School, we talked for hours the night before he left. We said our good nights and hung up; he called me back and said, “I just wanted to tell you I love you.” Aww Justin, I love you too! I was getting my hair dyed at the time, and the girl who was doing it said, “oh my gosh Sam! That was so sweet!” Yeah yeah. He’s the sweetest.
For the next 9 weeks, he wrote to me every day. If you are unaware of Ranger School, the sleep deprivation is insane. There were letters that would start out legible and then …______ “I fell asleep writing to you last night.” Those letters are a window into sleep deprivation-induced insanity. The anticipation of receiving those letters was intense! At one point he said an instructor actually told him no guy ever wrote as many letters as he did.
I ended up in a very short-lived, weird relationship with a guy who was…gross. Low point. When Justin called me on his graduation day, and I had to tell him I was kind of with someone, I felt like I was cheating on him. It was so hard to tell him.
But Justin was coming home on leave! And in the summer of 2004, I spent every free moment with him. If I wasn’t at work or at school, I was with Justin. We drove up to Maine, and went to his family reunion. His cousin got crazy drunk and asked us why we weren’t dating. Um, because! Justin is my best friend! Do you know what happens when you date someone?! You break up! And then you never speak to each other again!
Around the time that Justin headed back to Fort Benning, I got a text from him: it was too hard to just be friends. He loved me, but he couldn’t do it anymore. I read it to my best girl friend, Tanya. “Sam, you have to kiss him.” That sounds like a terrifying idea. I was not even a little bit ready to lose my best friend, but honestly at this point, it looked like I was on the verge of losing him anyway.
He was not true to his word, and we got right back into talking for hours every night. I would fall asleep on the phone. He would fall asleep on the phone. Justin starting asking me to marry him once more, and once again, I started giggling at the idea. Oh Justin, you’re so silly.
In the Fall of 2004, Justin said, “you’re never going to come visit me,” which I instantly took as a challenge. I booked my flight–I would fly to Georgia, drive back to New York with Justin. And then 2 weeks later, I would drive back to Georgia, and then eventually fly home. And once again, Tanya said, “you have to kiss him.”
But–
“If you never kiss him, you’ll never know if this could be more.” She was always right, and always offered the best advice.
Just a couple of kids in love.
So, I kissed him. And by March, I was asking him to marry me. I flew down to visit in April, and then in May he flew me down to be his date to a military ball–where I had a full on panic attack moments before he was supposed to be recognized for winning Ranger of the Quarter, or Superhero of the Century–I can’t remember which. Either way, he stayed with me while I unrealistically panicked over nothing.
When I got back to New York, I called him: “let’s get married when you’re home on leave.” He said sure (because “yes” is not in Justin’s vocabulary).
With the help of Tanya, I planned everything. And kept it a secret from everyone. Don’t even ask me why we were so set on eloping and telling no one–looking back, I’m sure we both had our reasons, but I’m sure they were all silly.
The morning of my baby sister’s high school graduation, Tanya came and picked up Justin and I. We were going out to breakfast with her, before she moved to Vegas: is what we told everyone. Really, we were driving 45 minutes away to get married in a city where no one knew our parents.
I love the story of us. I got to marry my best friend. Everyone should. Marry someone who wants to be with you every day. Marry someone who puts you before sleep. Marry someone who will call you back just to tell you he loves you. Marry your best friend.
2004 was a year. I finally permanently walked away from my unhealthy on again/off again relationship. Back then, Justin was just my best friend, who I loved with all my heart. 2004 was the year I told myself I’d be single, promising Justin that at the end of that year, I would be willing to explore the possibility of dating him (even though I already knew I would one day marry him).
2004 wasn’t my healthiest year.
I made a lot of bad decisions. Or at least, decisions that make me look back and think, what was I thinking!?
But you can’t regret those things. Every decision you make helps lead you where you need to be.
I got my first tattoo in 2004: magenta stars on my foot. A few months later I got more stars (because, who doesn’t love stars), this time on my pelvis. They were fun and cute. I was going to add to them. Because, why not!?
I waited. In fact, I believe I waited a whole year. In that time, I also married Justin (because, when he said, “you’re never going to come visit me,” I had to prove him wrong. And 6 months later, I married my best friend).
Initially I was…not entirely impressed with my additional stars. The shop’s apprentice did them, and while I am all for giving people a chance, this girl didn’t have it. Part of the way through she said, “let’s do some stars with thick outlines, and some with thin.” Let’s just say we don’t know what we’re doing.
You know what makes a not-so-great pelvic tattoo even better? Stretching it out. Two times.
I told myself that someday, I would do something about those damn stars.
Fast forward to December, 2011. My sisters and I got matching DeBie tattoos. And the tattoo artist said, “I can fix those stars for you.” Could it be?! Is there really hope for them?!”
Sadly, before I was able to get back to New York and get back in with him, he passed away. I gave up the idea of ever getting those dang stars taken care of.
This past year, working a full time job and playing single mom (even if it is just a temporary gig), I decided to take Justin’s advice, and start treating myself. Not necessarily the way most people would choose to. My gifts to me have come in the form of needles being jammed into my skin. And then I decided it was time.
So long, farewell. After 13 years, I was ready to say goodbye to the permanent reminder of the crazy year I spent finding myself.
I’ve been having a rough week. There is no real cause, other than depression is sometimes a rollercoaster of awesome emotions. I have found myself in tears daily.
Not just in tears, but crying as my boss talked to me.
Did I screw up? Yes. Was I in trouble? No. Was I crying because of the talk(s)? NO!
He took it like a champ. “Well now, don’t cry about it.”
“It isn’t that!” And then came straight sobbing. Which always makes me hold my breath, in a sorry attempt to stop it. Which, let’s be honest, only makes it worse.
That was Monday.
Tuesday, different talk, more tears.
I locked myself in the bathroom and had a good long sob. Pity party for one.
I thought I was good. I thought I had it under control.
Five minutes later, I was hiding in the locker room, sobbing once more. There comes a point when you realize you just have to give in and allow yourself to not be ok.
I honestly love my job, but sometimes I have regrets: I am not the type of person who can do it all. Single working moms are real life super heroes, and this past few days have been another chunk of time where I question my though process: what made me think I could go from being a Stay At Home Mom whose husband was here, to being a Full Time Working Mom whose husband was on the other side of the globe!?
My morning started off no better. This is the point in the story where I also explain that my blood pressure has been astronomically high lately. While I was making breakfasts and lunches and FaceTiming Justin, our children were going to war, simply because Shea likes to torment her little brother, and Xander likes to hold a grudge and retaliate. Justin gets to calmly sit and eat his dinner, while I try to keep this insanity in check.
Luckily for my boss, I got my daily dose of crying out of the way before he came in this morning. Honestly though, when I pulled in and saw he wasn’t there, I could hear him saying, “I just don’t think I can handle another day of Sam cryin’!” And I finally think I got all of it out of my system.
Until the next breakdown. Because depression doesn’t play by any set of rules. Depression is just that uninvited guest that shows up and eats all your ice cream, and doesn’t help you do dishes. What a jerk.
The morning of my baby sister’s high school graduation, Tanya came and picked up Justin and I. We were going out to breakfast with her, before she moved to Vegas: is what we told everyone. Really, we were driving 45 minutes away to get married in a city where no one knew our parents.
