Tough Day: Mini-breakdown

By on August 17, 2010 in Deployment, Emotions, Stress

I wake just as tired as when I went to bed. It was an awful night’s sleep. I have so much work to do, I’m too tired to exercise, slept later than I wanted to, and realize that there is no milk, because I never went to the store yesterday. Which means no coffee, since I must have milk and I will now have to take time this morning to go out which will put my day even further behind. I remember to start some laundry, check my email and head out.

This is the first of many interruptions today. I need to help my son get ready for college, sort out financial aid and order books; check with Caitlin to see if she got her tuition and aid settled and also see if she was able to find a car; get Alex’s senior picture proofs, decide on purchases and then pay for them (ouch) and try not to totally neglect youngest son who keeps pestering me about iPod apps and tries to spend his whole day in front of an electronic gadget instead of playing outside. I have to speak to him twice today about interrupting me while i am working. I feel so guilty about that, but it is my work and the children just forget that they can’t barge in while I am on the phone or in the middle of writing to ask me what to have for a snack!

On top of that my husband seems to need more of my attention than he does when he is home. I cannot possibly add in numerous emails to him, an hour of Skype, time to write my nightly deployment diary to send and have time left to work and manage all of the daily household tasks which have grown with his absence. I feel incredibly guilty about this, because I want nothing more than to shut out the world and absorb his attention, but it often has a price. I have yet to find a workable balance and I am frankly a mess. I have to walk the dogs in the dark tonight and never got to weed the garden or finish the laundry today. Forget about actually stepping outside to enjoy a summer day.

I can feel the overwhelm building and tonight I have my first mini break down. After the kids go to bed and I say goodnight to Anthony, I just collapse on my bed, curl into the fetal position and sob while I am overcome by anxiety and hopelessness. I can feel myself begin to hyperventilate. I just can’t handle anymore. I want to run away, but someone would come find me no doubt.

Tomorrow will be better, I hope.

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Vacation Highlights

By on August 15, 2010 in Deployment

Vacation was a much needed break from reality. What started out as the vacation from he@# turned into the most marvelous adventure. Lots of memories…

Sunset at the marina

Relaxing mornings

View from the deck

Afternoon in Montreal

Alex and Elijah resting in Montreal

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Vacation Down Day

By on August 12, 2010 in Change, Deployment
It felt good to sleep in a little this morning. Yesterday was an exhausting day and I am much looking forward to relaxing a bit today. I make my coffee and enjoy the quiet before the kids straggle out. Elijah and I go for a bike ride and he decides to tackle the hill of death with me to explore beyond our section of the campground and we ride along the main roads chatting as we go. He says he is getting too big for his bicycle and he needs a full size bike with gears like his dad and I. I answer in a non-committal way that we can lower one of our seats and check the height, but I am a bit sad at the approach of yet another milestone.
We are slowly growing our way out of “little boy” toys as his size and preference now necessitate older pursuits. I remember that we are entering our last year of elementary school. This is a phase that we entered fifteen years ago when our oldest daughter went to kindergarten and the thought that it will finally be drawing to a close is enough to take my breath away. I wonder if my husband thinks about these things or if he is too immersed in his other world right now to recognize that we are on the cusp of a major transition. Nearly a generation of time has passed from the young years when we had three children in primary school to today. Our third child will be a senior this year and then off to college and we will be left with only one on the cusp of “teen” and the “little kids” will be no more. The passing of time is inevitable and cause for celebration of new beginnings and opportunities to watch our children stretch and grow into adulthood, but as with every other time of transition it is tinged with sadness for what will never be again. I feel the loneliness today and I miss my husband’s comforting presence. Holding hands as we muddle our way through life somehow makes the reality of change easier to bear.
Today is one of those days that I walk the tightrope of emotions. There is an underlying current of anger at the circumstance of military life and the separations that it necessitates that lives inside me as I go through my day. But at the same time, in almost the same breath there exists an almost bursting sense of pride and rightness that I feel we are contributing in our own small ways to making the world we leave our children a safer, better and perhaps kinder place. It is never about politics for me; it is about standing up for what you believe in and doing the right thing no matter the cost. I allow myself a moment of more than pride - almost bordering on righteousness - that while the people around me sit at McDonald’s enjoying their lunch and go about their daily routine; we have chosen a different path. Simply to exist in life is not enough. To attempt in your life to have a positive impact in some manner on the world around you is a life truly lived.
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