I heard this song for the first time sitting in the parking lot of Savannah Grande the day Shelby's little sister graduated high school. I heard it and my jaw nearly dropped. Even though it's about a musician's wife, the references to hating him being away all the time and her being sick of his career all ring true for me.
I think every deployed marine's wife entertains the idea of leaving once she has reached that point where she can't take it anymore. That certainly explains the "95 percent divorce rate in the first year of active duty." The military lifestyle is definately NOT condusive to a healthy marriage.
When I first heard those statistics, I was shocked and disbelieving. I couldn't understand how a strong marriage couldn't survive some separation, especially when it's not voluntary. But now I totally understand. I can't honestly say that if we didn't have children and I didn't depend on him financially if I wouldn't be pursuing my own life's happiness right now by trying to fill the void he has left in my life.
I guess it's a good thing we DO have children and I DO depend on him financially. 'Cause this lonliness and depression is really getting to me. I'm hangin' on by a thin thread. But, as they say, "when you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on." I've tied the knot, and I'm hanging on for dear life.
I really don't have a lot of options, anyway. And I DO love him, more than he knows; more than anyone will ever know. I know I shouldn't be angry with him -- he didn't WANT to leave us. But he still did. And life goes on, with or without him. But without him, life blows.
I know he's worried about me cheating. The other day I had to remind him what's inside his wedding ring: "Semper Fidelis." For all you lay-people, that's latin for "always faithful," and it also happens to be the Marine Corps motto. Dual meaning there, sneaky me. If it weren't for him joining the marines, he never would've gone to war the first time and we never would've written and fell in love through the mail. We probably wouldn't be together. And by permanently inscribing this pledge inside his ring, I have cemented it in my mind that I WILL BE ALWAYS FAITHFUL. No matter how hard it is right now, I will keep my word.
And if you're wondering, inside my wedding ring it says "Loved You First." That goes back to how long he's been after me... 10 years he waited for me. One day he said "I love you" and I replied "I love you more!" and he came back with "Well, I loved YOU FIRST!" And so the running joke began. So sweet.
I'm just lonely and missing him and venting right now. This shit just plain sucks. I will survive somehow. I want to be strong and make him proud. I don't want us to become another statistic.
But damn, I can't wait for that homecoming. I dream about it a lot. How I will be sobbing and clinging to him saying "Don't you ever leave me again!!" Or maybe just thrilled and kissing him like there's no tomorrow. I don't really know. It never ends up being like I expect, so I guess we'll just have to wait and see.
"Where'd you go? I miss you so. Seems like it's been forever that you've been gone. Please come back home..."
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
thoughts...
I'm just sitting here thinking about Drew (AGAIN). I wish there were an approximate return date so I could count DOWN to it, instead of just counting UP from when I last saw him (day 108 and counting!).
This is torture. Pure torture. My new default pic shows me staring stone-faced at the place across the altar where he should have been at his sister's wedding this past Saturday. I was actually quite surprised to see that expression on my face. My mom took that picture. It really is worth a thousand words.
I broke down at the reception, long about the time the first dance rolled around. I had to get up and leave. I was on the verge of collapsing into those infamous uncontrollable sobs I speak of so damn often. I walked to the bridge and stood, facing away from the reception hall, tears just pouring from my eyes. He should have been there.
When we spoke on the phone on Sunday, he mentioned, out of the blue, that the song "My Best Friend" by Tim Mcgraw had been stuck in his mind for days. He said "I just can't get it out of my head!"
That was the song we had our first dance to at our wedding.
I just put my head on my knees and squeezed my eyes shut when he said that.
He doesn't even have a copy of that song with him. I took care of that yesterday, though, burning him a new mix CD I entitled "Songs for my Lover." It will be included in the next package.
Sometimes I am just so damn angry at him. For leaving me here, like this. I want to frickin' strangle hime for leaving while we had so many unresolved issues. Sometimes I want to yell at him, ask him why he fucked up so much, why he wants to hurt me. I still haven't gotten as heartfelt of apologies as I want in order to be satisfied. I want him to kiss my feet and BEG for forgiveness, in tears.
I am by no means trying to claim innocence, here, and if he wants apologies, too, he needs to ask for them. My problem is that the pouty "sorry!" i usually get from him is not fucking good enough. He needs to show me. He needs to fucking cry about it.
I know he's got it rough right now, too, but GODDAMNIT! I swear to GOD, I am in HELL! I hate to bitch when he's not around to defend himself, but JEEZUS, all I HAVE are my thoughts! The little devil and the little angel are at war, too -- full throttle -- inside my head. Part of me says "fuck him!" and wants to just run away, change my name, and start over as some anonymous person somewhere. But most of me wants to prove my strength and faithfulness. That part will always win, thanks to a little thing called a conscience, but the other part will always be there, too, peaking its little horns up from time to time.
I take my marriage vows very seriously, and this is just part of the "..or for worse." [actually, OUR vows said "...in good times and in bad...," so technically this is the BAD]. FUCK THIS!!!!
Why does the heart have to love? Why can't I just say fuck it, I don't care, I'll just go out and fuck random people so I can remember what it's like to be touched. NOPE. I guess I'll just have to wait till he gets home to remember how that feels. It sucks because I DO remember. And I miss it. I haven't been touched in 108 days. [barring friends and children]
I totally understand why marine wives have affairs. It's not because they don't love their husbands. It's out of sheer desperation. Human need. Human beings need intimacy, both emotional and physical. I feel like there is a brick wall between me and intimacy right now. Phone calls and letters are great and all, but it just doesn't cut it.
The Michelle that Drew knows is known ONLY by him. Sorry to all you others, but there are things I talk about and do (of course) ONLY with him. That person, the REAL me, is stifled now. The inside jokes no one else understands, the memories that no one else shares... it's just fucking torture! I can't stand this!!!
I still can't believe how much I miss that fucking asshole. But I do. And I love him, forever.
This is torture. Pure torture. My new default pic shows me staring stone-faced at the place across the altar where he should have been at his sister's wedding this past Saturday. I was actually quite surprised to see that expression on my face. My mom took that picture. It really is worth a thousand words.
I broke down at the reception, long about the time the first dance rolled around. I had to get up and leave. I was on the verge of collapsing into those infamous uncontrollable sobs I speak of so damn often. I walked to the bridge and stood, facing away from the reception hall, tears just pouring from my eyes. He should have been there.
When we spoke on the phone on Sunday, he mentioned, out of the blue, that the song "My Best Friend" by Tim Mcgraw had been stuck in his mind for days. He said "I just can't get it out of my head!"
That was the song we had our first dance to at our wedding.
I just put my head on my knees and squeezed my eyes shut when he said that.
He doesn't even have a copy of that song with him. I took care of that yesterday, though, burning him a new mix CD I entitled "Songs for my Lover." It will be included in the next package.
Sometimes I am just so damn angry at him. For leaving me here, like this. I want to frickin' strangle hime for leaving while we had so many unresolved issues. Sometimes I want to yell at him, ask him why he fucked up so much, why he wants to hurt me. I still haven't gotten as heartfelt of apologies as I want in order to be satisfied. I want him to kiss my feet and BEG for forgiveness, in tears.
I am by no means trying to claim innocence, here, and if he wants apologies, too, he needs to ask for them. My problem is that the pouty "sorry!" i usually get from him is not fucking good enough. He needs to show me. He needs to fucking cry about it.
I know he's got it rough right now, too, but GODDAMNIT! I swear to GOD, I am in HELL! I hate to bitch when he's not around to defend himself, but JEEZUS, all I HAVE are my thoughts! The little devil and the little angel are at war, too -- full throttle -- inside my head. Part of me says "fuck him!" and wants to just run away, change my name, and start over as some anonymous person somewhere. But most of me wants to prove my strength and faithfulness. That part will always win, thanks to a little thing called a conscience, but the other part will always be there, too, peaking its little horns up from time to time.
I take my marriage vows very seriously, and this is just part of the "..or for worse." [actually, OUR vows said "...in good times and in bad...," so technically this is the BAD]. FUCK THIS!!!!
Why does the heart have to love? Why can't I just say fuck it, I don't care, I'll just go out and fuck random people so I can remember what it's like to be touched. NOPE. I guess I'll just have to wait till he gets home to remember how that feels. It sucks because I DO remember. And I miss it. I haven't been touched in 108 days. [barring friends and children]
I totally understand why marine wives have affairs. It's not because they don't love their husbands. It's out of sheer desperation. Human need. Human beings need intimacy, both emotional and physical. I feel like there is a brick wall between me and intimacy right now. Phone calls and letters are great and all, but it just doesn't cut it.
The Michelle that Drew knows is known ONLY by him. Sorry to all you others, but there are things I talk about and do (of course) ONLY with him. That person, the REAL me, is stifled now. The inside jokes no one else understands, the memories that no one else shares... it's just fucking torture! I can't stand this!!!
I still can't believe how much I miss that fucking asshole. But I do. And I love him, forever.
Wednesday, July 5, 2006
100 days...
It's official. As of yesterday, July 4th, it's been 100 days since I saw Drew last. And Monday, July 3rd, was our 3 year anniversary (of the day he came home from Iraq the LAST time, our first kiss, our first OFFICIAL day as a couple, and the rest is left to your imagination!).
Most of you know that Drew and I got started (romantically) when we wrote to eachother faithfully for months when he was there for the invasion, and somehow ended up falling in love through our letters (yeah, yeah, how flippin' romantic). Of course our friendship stems back to the sixth grade, when Drew decided that he was in love with me and would pursue me to the ends of the earth (I kinda got that creepy, overbearing, psycho-stalker vibe from him, as we had not yet hit puberty!) [<-- that was for you, Shelby]
Anyway, we grew up and he got HOT! (and the marine thing didn't hurt, either.) And then he went to war and I freaked out, thinking I couldn't let him die not knowing that I really did care! And so the letter-writing began.
So the day he came home was a BIG day for us. It was the moment of truth. And I'll be damned if the crowd didn't part and the world didn't stop turning when the time came for us to embrace -- FINALLY. I will never in my life forget that first kiss... so long, slow, tender, and sweet. And right there in front of his parents and little sister! Ask me if I gave a fuck!
And the rest is history. Just wanted to reminisce about that wonderful day. And I can't fuckin' wait till we can do that first-kiss-after-coming-home-from-war thing again. But this time I will stick my tongue down his throat and wrap my legs around his waist and someone needs to take a picture!
*sigh* only 3 more months. blech.
Most of you know that Drew and I got started (romantically) when we wrote to eachother faithfully for months when he was there for the invasion, and somehow ended up falling in love through our letters (yeah, yeah, how flippin' romantic). Of course our friendship stems back to the sixth grade, when Drew decided that he was in love with me and would pursue me to the ends of the earth (I kinda got that creepy, overbearing, psycho-stalker vibe from him, as we had not yet hit puberty!) [<-- that was for you, Shelby]
Anyway, we grew up and he got HOT! (and the marine thing didn't hurt, either.) And then he went to war and I freaked out, thinking I couldn't let him die not knowing that I really did care! And so the letter-writing began.
So the day he came home was a BIG day for us. It was the moment of truth. And I'll be damned if the crowd didn't part and the world didn't stop turning when the time came for us to embrace -- FINALLY. I will never in my life forget that first kiss... so long, slow, tender, and sweet. And right there in front of his parents and little sister! Ask me if I gave a fuck!
And the rest is history. Just wanted to reminisce about that wonderful day. And I can't fuckin' wait till we can do that first-kiss-after-coming-home-from-war thing again. But this time I will stick my tongue down his throat and wrap my legs around his waist and someone needs to take a picture!
*sigh* only 3 more months. blech.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)