Wednesday, February 26, 2014

I won't give up on us or i'm a raging ball of hormones so excuse the $#!% that comes out of my mouth

don't forget to click on the links for mood music

So I’ve been an emotional wreck. The end of 2013 crept right on into 2014. I had these grand ideas about how I was going to slough off the old skin and shake away the past.  I was going to step right into the future.

That’s a little to grand. The adult me knows that you have to take time in the present to acknowledge your past or it will bit your oversized ass hard in the future.
It’s not so much that the law of attraction doesn’t work, but more so that you have to include “what is forgotten will be repeated.”
Just wanted to put that statement out there. I’m still growing. And some wounds haven’t healed but I am going to be better about positivity. I will wish no one any harm and I will work diligently every day to not be bitter about the ay life has unfolded for me. Ultimately, As an adult, I have to be responsible for the choices I made at every dip, turn and crossroad.  I could have changed course at any given stop light. Could have joined a circus. Could have saved that money I spent on those shoes I wore that one time and lost. Could have said I’m sorry sooner.

But that’s not what this blog is about.

I’ve been open as always about my personal life and as always some would say I’m too open.
This year is particularly hard for me because my sane half and I are 300 plus miles apart.  Twists and turns in the road of life , folks, gotta watch those pot holes. Dodge one hit six bigger ones.
Now, I know that people live like this all the time. Hell, it used to be a cultural thing in recent antiquity.  The husband would have to leave home and travel across the country for work and send home funds to the wife and rugrats and eventually when they’d saved enough he’d send for them all.
Unfortunately, that was a dream for many families that never worked.  Momma got tired of waiting and got a new man that took care of her and her kids. Daddy got to liking being a single man and found a barfly that only wanted to drink smoke and mattress mambo.

You can tell I had many, numerous, copious, a whole fucking lot of misgivings about being separated from my heart for work.
I mean before CWB, I was seriously dating (promised) to a guy who joined the marines ( without telling me he was going to join the marines) and when he came home with his hair cut and his dog tags, I smiled at him and fixed his favorite dinner. Sat across from the table and cried as I told him, I’m not the one for you. I don’t want to be a single married person. I don’t want to worry about you being blown up. I don’t want to move from base to base. I don’t our kids to not know where their home town is. Or to have to make friends over and over and over again three times a year.  We prayed about it and he understood. I was speaking from my heart. I loved him but I didn’t love him enough.  I would have made a shitty military wife. At least, the me that I was then would have.
I had to bite some bullets once I got married. CWB is my own personal hero. He has been in the medical field (a certified emt), has been a firefighter, in law enforcement and in education (yeah, he taught some courses to some juvies when he worked in the boot camp). But this separation, by far, has been the biggest one. 
Ask any “old married” couple you know. There can be times when you never see each other. He works nights, she works days. One of you or both of you work more than one job. One or both of you might be in school.
Or you see each other, but you get into a routine. So you don’t even have to speak. You just do the same or similar things all the time.  Sometimes you have to just break the silence and say “hey, are we ok?  We aren’t fighting are we?”
There is something so comforting in that to me. For an introvert/hermit, I am oddly addicted to his presence.
I truly believe he is my match. We are literal salt and pepper shakers. We just go together.
I’ve done ok with the separation. It was unplanned (for the most part. See we moved in anticipation of his transfer, and then it got delayed and delayed again…and delayed again. ) And supposed to be short term. But I cowgirled up and stuck with the program, besides we can see each other on skype and hangouts and one of us can drive to see the other on days off. *yes, that’s sarcasm people because we all know that hasn’t exactly worked out. This is life not a novel*  Besides a bit of depression * side eyes closest friends, ok ok a lot of depression* and a small amount whining * look, I’m telling this* I’ve weathered the storm.  I’ve drawn complete strength from some great people and mostly from CWB. He is, in all things, my rock.
Tonight though—tonight I probably exhibited why I am an asshole. I’ll blame it on the separation and hormones.

Tonight everything spilled over. I started off trying to feign excitement for what I perceived as another delay. I almost got all the way to enthusiasm.  Then the whole baby situation spiraled out of control. (Maintaining two separate households, hundreds of miles apart, while dealing with infertility and ttc--not conducive for stress free shenanigans).
I tried to count to a million, then go to sleep. I woke up four hours later and still couldn’t keep myself from bubbling over.
It ended with a couple of long vents to amazing friends  and one booger snot slinging melt down of a phone call to CWB. And I’m sorry. Because as scared and freaked out as I am. I know he has to be feeling the same way. I know that he loves me like I love him. Ultimately, he only wants to do what’s going to be good for us. Sometimes its just hard to mesh our two styles of thinking together. Even when we are trying to achieve the same things we come at them from different angles. Its like comparing apples to apples. His are granny smith and mine are honeycrisp. In the end they are still damn apples. Its not like one of them is secretly an orange or a banana. We just, sometimes are reading the same story and even though we are on the same damn page, one of us is still reading and the other is ready to jump ahead to the next. (two guesses which of us is which.) I know CWB is an amazing, stand up guy.  I still think he his pin headed, hard headed and old fashioned curmudgeon.   
In conclusion: I’m probably an asshole.  At least this time I can blame part of it on the hormones and the stress.  One box of Kleenex, two boiled eggs, six pieces of crispy bacon, one piece of burnt bacon, four pieces of toast and a candy bar that I found in the pocket of my winter jacket;  I’m a hormonal asshole.  
I don’t know all the answers.  But what I do know is that we will figure it out together. Because that’s what relationships are about. Good marriages, the ones that last the test of time, aren’t the ones that never went through anything hard. They're the ones that linked hands, stood back to back and stared down the hard times and said “ bring it.”
 I know that I don’t have to be “ a big girl all the time.” Its ok for me to get lost in my hormones and my feelings and have break downs, as long as I don’t stay lost.
This year for our anniversary, I gave CWB a little compass. Its no bigger than a quarter and shaped like a heart. In a child like font its inscribed “ my heart will lead you home.”
I hope he knows that its true for me as well. When I am lost and afraid. When I don’t know how to carry on and I can’t remember how to breath.  It’s the beat of his heart that leads me from the darkness. The scent of him on the pillow that fights off the nightmares. The sound of his voice that soothes me to sleep.
I’m sorry that your wife is a hormonal ass hat CWB.  She doesn’t mean to be. She just misses you like crazy. But she is and has always been 0n this ride with you.
We might have to make a few pitstops and detours. But this is our journey. I wouldn’t take it with anyone but you.