TWO HUNDRED days

Holy SHIT!!! It's been 200 days since I last saw my husband. Jeez, it's been quite a while since my last blog, too. By the way, happy birthday to my favorite Uncle, Drunkle Wolf. He's the only one of Drew's friends who has cared enough to (regularly) help ease my burdens while he's away.




There are only about 3 more weeks until Drew's homecoming -- HOORAY!!! It's so exciting but so nerve-wracking at the same time. There is so much to do to prepare for the homecoming that I am overwhelmed and just want to shut down most of the time. On the other hand, though, the time is creeping by, and I think the next three weeks are going to be the longest of my life.



I could never have made it this far without my girls, though. Me and 3 of the other unit ladies have been hanging out like it's cool, and it is! We are ALL lonely and sex-deprived and exhausted and missing our men... something NO ONE ELSE understands. Our friendships have formed fast and deep, as we are bonding over such a unique situation. So here's to you (in alphabetical order, of course), Allison, Jessica, and Valerie. I love you guys and I couldn't have made it through without y'all! Better to be bored together than alone, right?



Anyway, I've been very busy lately. Me and the girls are getting together at LEAST twice a week, and there's the military support group bi-weekly, Twin's Club Mom's Night Out monthly (of which I am now in charge, tyvm), working out (or trying to) 3 times a week, chauffeuring the kids to and from school, attempting to domesticate my wild puppy, etc., etc...



So time flies when I'm busy. It's just those seemingly endless lulls between activities that get me. When household responsibilities stare me in the face and I resist them, procrastinating as usual (Allison, you know what that's like...:)). I just want to sleep, to make the time pass. And let's not forget my poor ankles!!! One I injured kicking the dog off of me a few weeks ago and it's still hurting; getting worse, not better. And then 3 days later, I went out dancing with the girls and twisted the OTHER ankle while slightly tipsy and walking around in platforms. The twisted one is better, but the banged one friggin' HURTS! I's really getting in the way of housework.



Well, gotta go make myself useful.

lately...

I haven't blogged in a while, so I guess it's time. I've been "super-duper, twenty-hundred, super, SUPER" busy lately (<---quoting Robby there). I've graduated from physical therapy for my back and am on to massage therapy and a regular exercise regime. I'm wearing myself out at the gym and having some sharp pains in my back again, but my butt's getting firmer (hooray!!). Hope I blow Drew away with my new HARD BODY when he gets home (note sarcasm).




I've been getting a lot of help from various military-related organizations, who have been bringing meals and paying for a cleaning service. That's REALLY helped a LOT. Now I have TIME to go to the gym and work on organizing all of our shit. I pretty much finished redecorating the master bedroom, dark red being the main color with browns and tans to accent. It's going to be such a nice sancuary for us when Drew gets home. Only TWO MORE MONTHS, by the way! YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



Now that I have an approximate return time-frame, I really have something to look forward to, and I'm counting DOWN the days, instead of just UP. I'm feeling a little pressured to get certain things done in this timeframe, and that's good 'cause it's motivating. I haven't even cried in several weeks, I think, although that kinda worries me, as if it's been too long and the clouds are ready to burst at any moment.



Things, all around, have been better now that all this help has enabled me to gain control of my life (somewhat). Certain songs still make my heart wrench, and I really am not listening to a lot of country music lately because it's mostly too emotional for me. And I still don't want to hear about anyone else's romance/sex life, unless it's a lack thereof (because with THAT I can sympathize!)! I've basically become accustomed to being numb about other people's problems.



One certain friend has pointed out repeatedly that I have become a real bitch. Oh well. I don't have it in me to care. The only person I REALLY care about thinking I'm a bitch isn't around to see it, AND if he WERE here, I'm certain that bitch in me would pack her bags and make like a bird. So in the meantime, I guess I'll just be a bitch. People really should understand why. But they don't. I'm expected to go right on with my life with a big damn fake smile on my face and pretend that I'm not completely broken down inside.



But it's okay. Someday those people will have something horrible happen to them and I will be laughing inside. Yes, I am bitter. And a bitch. But so what? Love me or leave me. Karma will take care of the rest.







"So what if you can see / the darkest side of me / somebody help me tame this animal I have become.



"Somebody wake me from this nightmare / I can't escape this Hell..."



- Three Days Grace

"where'd you go?"

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..."

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.

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.

Lonliness, part 2

I just had to stop yesterday, but there is so much more to say... but it's so hard to find the words... So here we go again:




I never in my life imagined missing Drew SO truly, madly, deeply (sorry, I had to). Never. This experience is so unlike any other, and one that can't possibly be understood until you go through it yourself (which I would HAPPILY wish upon my enemies).



That is why it has become my goal to try and express it as thoroughly as possible. I welcome feedback, too. I know that yesterday's blog was viewed 21 times, but only ONE person felt enough to comment on it (thanks Shelby!).



I know that everyone thinks they have been SO in love, or has experienced the heartbreak that I feel, but the truth is, everyone's experiences are radically different depending on exact circumstances. I can't even say that other wives of deployed marines know how this is for me, because how does anyone know if their love runs as deep as Drew's and mine? Is anyone else's marriage as magickal as ours? I only know one couple who (in my opinion) can compare, and they are not in the military.



I can't describe how insanely jealous I am when I see a couple together. I want to ask the woman if she realizes just how lucky she is that she has her man next to her. Safe. Within touching distance. There to talk to, laugh with, even fight with! What I wouldn't give to be able to have a good screaming argument with Drew, in person, right now. Yes, I even miss the shitty things.



I miss losing sleep because of his incessent snoring. I miss waking up shivering in the middle of the night because somehow he has acquired ALL of the covers. I miss sleeping crammed into the side of the bed because he has somehow managed to take up the ENTIRE king sized bed. And that's just what I miss about sleeping. He really is a horrible bedmate, but I don't give a fuck. He's my husband, and I want him back.



I miss watching him interact with our children, feeling that surge of love strike my heart as I see how this man that I love so much melts into a puddle of tenderness when he sees his life's blood. Seeing how becomming a father has softened him in some ways and hardened him in others... there's just no describing the feeling that ensues.



I miss laying awake in the dark, pillow talking with him instead of getting much-needed sleep. I miss waking up in the middle of the night and seeing him there next to me, sleeping soundly, and repositioning myself so that we are two spoons nestled in a drawer. I love how I fit so perfectly in his strong arms.



I hate how I've become so emotionally vulnerable. I hate how every damn song I hear has to remind me of him, somehow, inevitably. I hate how I love him so goddamn much. I hate how much I need him to function properly. I hate that this experience has broken me; turned me into a blithering idiot.



I hate how my hard exterior is crumbling. I hate that the strong-willed, independent woman I was has given way to a cowering, weak cry-baby. I hate how I can't even get through writing a fuckin blog without soaking the keyboard with my pussyfied tears.



I hate how this experience is driving me to expose my deepest, previously well-hidden emotions to anyone with a myspace account! But I don't even really care anymore. I want the whole world to know how this war is breaking the military family members.



And don't forget about the permanent effects this whole damn thing will have on the poor guys serving our country! Try for one second to imagine the magnitude of problems that each and every one of them is going to have to deal with every day for the REST OF THEIR LIVES. And of course, how their loved ones will be affected, residually.



War breaks people, and damages relationships. Drew and I will eagerly crash into eachother's arms when the time comes, and cling to eachother, each needing our combined strength, however depleted, to recover and somehow carry on with our strange new way of life.



And now, I need a nap. I'm just too emotionally exhausted to be conscious right now.

Lonliness, part 1

I wish I could describe just what life is like for me these days.




Try to imagine a bowling ball sitting in your chest, suspended by your heartstrings, so heavy that sometimes you feel like you can't breathe.



Try to imagine loving someone so much that life without him is absolutely unbearable, pointless and painful.



Imagine having countless songs remind you of him, or the lack of him, stabbing so deeply you must pull together every last bit of self control you have to keep from breaking down into uncontrollable, gut-wrenching sobs.



Imagine living every minute of every day wondering if this person you love so deeply is safe, or even still alive.



There's no one to talk to in the dark of your bedroom at night.



The person on whom you lean the most, who knows you better than you know yourself, who knows exactly how and when to comfort you...he's not there.



He's not there to share the burdens of parenthood, chores, and obligations.



He's not there to watch the children growing and learning more every day. These memories are and always will be yours alone.



Imagine not being able to do the things you do best to comfort and take care of him.



You can't see him.



You can't hear him.



You can't smell his scent or touch his body.



You can't feel his warmth next to you in your big, cold, empty bed.



You don't have his feet and legs to entertwine yours with as you fall asleep at night.



You can't remind him to take his meds/vitamins.



You can't pour that extra mug of coffee in the morning.



You can't fall asleep with his arm nestled around your neck, his fingers delicately wandering through your hair, drooling on his right nipple while he sits up reading till wee hours.



Imagine your heart barely holding itself together, ready to disintigrate at any moment.



Now imagine that these feelings are not caused by being dumped, blown off, ignored, or misunderstood.



Not caused by divorce.



Not caused by widowing.



Not incarceration or a conventional lengthy business trip.



It is worse...much worse.



He's alive, he loves me, he misses me, he wants to be here with me. We are happily married. We have three children who he loves and misses deeply.



But we can't be together. Because of this stupid fucking "war."



He's been gone for nearly SEVEN MONTHS.



Thats close to TWO HUNDRED DAYS our home has not been his residence.



I haven't touched him in 86 days.



We are separated by 3000 miles of ocean and hostile desert.



He now sleeps with a gun in his arms, instead of me.



I will not be whole again until I replace that gun.



Until then, I am a deeply fragmented version of who I was.



I am now broken.



Bitter.



And numb.