Two and a half months gone and still it feels no closer to the end. What a wild ride the last two months have been. In particular, the last two weeks have been the most challenging I can remember. I'm sure that I have uttered the words, "this is the worst week ever" before, but I am serious when I say that the last two weeks have had gargantuan mountains I have had to hike.
Where do I begin? Something happens in the way neighbors and friends and family view you when your husband is deployed. Suddenly, all the competence they once thought you had is gone. It is replaced with either the "poor woman she can barely cope" insults, or the "Oh my! Shes Superwoman" statements. Both are completely wrong in fact. It is often the one who looks like her life is falling apart who is actually dealing better with the separation than the one with the clean house and polished kids. I'm a clean house and polished kids kind of Army wife. It looks from the outside as if my life is sailing through the waters of Afghanistan drama beautifully. However, what I am really feeling is lonely and abandoned (that's why I have so much time to clean). I can't speak for the "falling apart at the seams" Army wives, but I am going to climb out on an imaginary limb and say that they are feeling the exact same way I am. So neighbors, friends and family, I am and this deployment life is, more complicated than what appears on the surface. Crying isn't a sign of an impending emotional collapse anymore than changing my oil makes me a superhero.
Bullet holes, RPG's, snipers and long hours are what our guys have been living with the last two weeks. It would be an enormous understatement to say that I worry. I'm not sure that fret is an adequate description for how I feel today. Imagine feeling every minute of everyday that there was something heavy, let's say a baby grand, suspended above your head, and that at any moment the rope that holds that crushing object is going to start to splinter. That is what I feel. The impending blow that a KIA would have, is that baby grand.
There is something to be said for being in a room full of Army wives who have the same piano above their heads everyday. We don't need to exchange stories or cry together. Just the act of being together is a liberating experience. I will never have to describe the piano to her and she will never make the mistake of minimizing my fears (as so many non-Army folks do).
I just need to make it through June with my piano and then family and friends will start the ever increasing flow of distractions that will take me through November (R&R). I am thankful for the distractions. The noise of visitors and busy-ness will muffle the sounds of that rope snapping.
Where do I begin? Something happens in the way neighbors and friends and family view you when your husband is deployed. Suddenly, all the competence they once thought you had is gone. It is replaced with either the "poor woman she can barely cope" insults, or the "Oh my! Shes Superwoman" statements. Both are completely wrong in fact. It is often the one who looks like her life is falling apart who is actually dealing better with the separation than the one with the clean house and polished kids. I'm a clean house and polished kids kind of Army wife. It looks from the outside as if my life is sailing through the waters of Afghanistan drama beautifully. However, what I am really feeling is lonely and abandoned (that's why I have so much time to clean). I can't speak for the "falling apart at the seams" Army wives, but I am going to climb out on an imaginary limb and say that they are feeling the exact same way I am. So neighbors, friends and family, I am and this deployment life is, more complicated than what appears on the surface. Crying isn't a sign of an impending emotional collapse anymore than changing my oil makes me a superhero.
Bullet holes, RPG's, snipers and long hours are what our guys have been living with the last two weeks. It would be an enormous understatement to say that I worry. I'm not sure that fret is an adequate description for how I feel today. Imagine feeling every minute of everyday that there was something heavy, let's say a baby grand, suspended above your head, and that at any moment the rope that holds that crushing object is going to start to splinter. That is what I feel. The impending blow that a KIA would have, is that baby grand.
There is something to be said for being in a room full of Army wives who have the same piano above their heads everyday. We don't need to exchange stories or cry together. Just the act of being together is a liberating experience. I will never have to describe the piano to her and she will never make the mistake of minimizing my fears (as so many non-Army folks do).
I just need to make it through June with my piano and then family and friends will start the ever increasing flow of distractions that will take me through November (R&R). I am thankful for the distractions. The noise of visitors and busy-ness will muffle the sounds of that rope snapping.
Wow! I never thought of it that way. You are a gifted writer Kim!
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