More Deployment Blues
My husband leaves in a week, and I don’t think I’m handling it well.
• A week or so ago, I got the idea in my head that my husband should take some extra things with him to Afghanistan. He’d had a cold recently, and I didn’t want him trying to find cold medicine while he in-processed his new base, so I packed him some. Then I packed some congestion tablets, then some cough drops, antibiotic cream, toothache anesthetic … by the time my husband asked me what the hell I was doing, I was trying to find space in his bag for the hemorrhoid cream. I felt offended that he’d even questioned me - excuse me for giving a damn! It took several minutes of conversation to convince me I was going overboard, to get me to admit how much it bothered me that I couldn’t take care of him there, couldn’t keep him safe, keep him alive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen myself get that overprotective, and I have a freaking kid!
• A few nights later, I was folding laundry, and I heard my husband yelling across the house to our son. He wasn’t angry, he just prefers yelling to getting off his butt to find the other person and speak with his indoor voice - they were actually talking about what they wanted for dinner. It usually irritates me, and he can always count on me to yell back, “Just come in here and talk to me!” when he tries it with me. But that night, it occurred to me that I wouldn’t hear my husband’s voice yelling in the house for the next year … next thing I knew I was sitting on the floor, wiping snot on freshly laundered socks, unable to stop crying. I did get myself cleaned up and calmed down before either of them saw me, because I didn’t want to explain why the idea of my husband not yelling at me made me cry.
• The other day we ran into one of my husband’s coworkers, and she asked me, just as naturally as talking about the weather, “So, are you ready for the deployment?” Between military folk, this is casual conversation, I know she wasn’t trying to upset me. She probably expected me to laughingly complain about my husband's duffle bags and trunks scattered all over the house or something. But to me it felt like she’d sliced me with a knife while wearing a smile; I just wasn’t prepared to discuss it, or to put up a brave front. I don’t know what kind of calm, stiff upper lip response she was expecting, but what she got was me unable to meet her eyes, clenching my hands into fists, and struggling to find my voice and mumble that I would be okay. She tried everything from reassuring me my husband would come back to reminding me the Lord is on my side to ease the tension, but the damage was done. The small talk ended shortly after that.
• I was sitting in my parked car today, and I noticed one of my husband’s baseball caps under the seat. He’s had it since his twenties. It’s faded, bent, beaten up, stiches unraveling everywhere, Velcro back coming off. I sat there wondering if I should get it mended or just buy him a new one, and it occurred to me I didn’t know which he would prefer, if he’d love the surprise of a new one, or was attached to the old one, and how as his wife I should know this, and I started to cry … and when I became aware of my surroundings again, I saw the kids in the playground across the street were all staring at me. Turns out I’d been at it for at least ten minutes, and from the looks of the cap, I’d been wringing it between my hands the whole time.
I feel like I’m supposed to be the stereotypical military wife, the strong, supportive Superwoman who gives her family nothing but gentle, unbreakable faith that everything will be alright, the kind who sends her husband off with every confidence that his wife is as tough a warrior as he is. Instead, my family is stuck with a woman who gets either teary or nervous over stupid shit, walks slower and talks quieter, and always seems to need another hug. So, along with everything else, I feel like a constant failure. I’m supposed to be steeling my husband for the dangers that lie ahead of him, not having breakdowns that force him to comfort me! And I’m not just a military wife, I’m a goddamned veteran myself! I’m supposed to be stronger than this, braver than this, BETTER than this! I should be managing this, and maybe I am, maybe this reaction is normal for other spouses, but it doesn’t change the fact that every time my fear overwhelms me it feels like I’ve let him down.
Yes, I've told my husband all of this, and he said all the right things: this is all normal, I'm not disappointing him, he doesn't need me to be the strong and silent type, he just wants me to be honest with him. It was comforting to hear, and it calmed the self-recriminations in my head for now, but I know they're still there, and all it'll take is another trigger to bring them to the fore again. Knowing that the things in my head are bullshit doesn't make the bullshit go away.
I haven’t been totally useless, though. I’ve set up support systems and extracurricular activities both in and out of school for our son, I do laugh when my husband jokes about all the things we won’t miss (my snoring, his farting, etc.), I listen calmly when he talks about his deployment preparations, I’m mentally present as we make decisions, I enjoy the hobbies we share. But he still reminds me, regularly, that he’s worried about me. He wants me to make friends (he knows all about you guys, but he means people who’ll come get me out of the house), take an online class, volunteer, get counseling. I guess he feels I need a little more than running after kids all day and sitting at home with our son all night, and he’s probably right. I don’t know.
I just know I have seven days left with my husband before I don’t see him for a year … or I possibly never see him again. And I'm not handling it well, or at least not as well as I feel I should.
• A week or so ago, I got the idea in my head that my husband should take some extra things with him to Afghanistan. He’d had a cold recently, and I didn’t want him trying to find cold medicine while he in-processed his new base, so I packed him some. Then I packed some congestion tablets, then some cough drops, antibiotic cream, toothache anesthetic … by the time my husband asked me what the hell I was doing, I was trying to find space in his bag for the hemorrhoid cream. I felt offended that he’d even questioned me - excuse me for giving a damn! It took several minutes of conversation to convince me I was going overboard, to get me to admit how much it bothered me that I couldn’t take care of him there, couldn’t keep him safe, keep him alive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen myself get that overprotective, and I have a freaking kid!
• A few nights later, I was folding laundry, and I heard my husband yelling across the house to our son. He wasn’t angry, he just prefers yelling to getting off his butt to find the other person and speak with his indoor voice - they were actually talking about what they wanted for dinner. It usually irritates me, and he can always count on me to yell back, “Just come in here and talk to me!” when he tries it with me. But that night, it occurred to me that I wouldn’t hear my husband’s voice yelling in the house for the next year … next thing I knew I was sitting on the floor, wiping snot on freshly laundered socks, unable to stop crying. I did get myself cleaned up and calmed down before either of them saw me, because I didn’t want to explain why the idea of my husband not yelling at me made me cry.
• The other day we ran into one of my husband’s coworkers, and she asked me, just as naturally as talking about the weather, “So, are you ready for the deployment?” Between military folk, this is casual conversation, I know she wasn’t trying to upset me. She probably expected me to laughingly complain about my husband's duffle bags and trunks scattered all over the house or something. But to me it felt like she’d sliced me with a knife while wearing a smile; I just wasn’t prepared to discuss it, or to put up a brave front. I don’t know what kind of calm, stiff upper lip response she was expecting, but what she got was me unable to meet her eyes, clenching my hands into fists, and struggling to find my voice and mumble that I would be okay. She tried everything from reassuring me my husband would come back to reminding me the Lord is on my side to ease the tension, but the damage was done. The small talk ended shortly after that.
• I was sitting in my parked car today, and I noticed one of my husband’s baseball caps under the seat. He’s had it since his twenties. It’s faded, bent, beaten up, stiches unraveling everywhere, Velcro back coming off. I sat there wondering if I should get it mended or just buy him a new one, and it occurred to me I didn’t know which he would prefer, if he’d love the surprise of a new one, or was attached to the old one, and how as his wife I should know this, and I started to cry … and when I became aware of my surroundings again, I saw the kids in the playground across the street were all staring at me. Turns out I’d been at it for at least ten minutes, and from the looks of the cap, I’d been wringing it between my hands the whole time.
I feel like I’m supposed to be the stereotypical military wife, the strong, supportive Superwoman who gives her family nothing but gentle, unbreakable faith that everything will be alright, the kind who sends her husband off with every confidence that his wife is as tough a warrior as he is. Instead, my family is stuck with a woman who gets either teary or nervous over stupid shit, walks slower and talks quieter, and always seems to need another hug. So, along with everything else, I feel like a constant failure. I’m supposed to be steeling my husband for the dangers that lie ahead of him, not having breakdowns that force him to comfort me! And I’m not just a military wife, I’m a goddamned veteran myself! I’m supposed to be stronger than this, braver than this, BETTER than this! I should be managing this, and maybe I am, maybe this reaction is normal for other spouses, but it doesn’t change the fact that every time my fear overwhelms me it feels like I’ve let him down.
Yes, I've told my husband all of this, and he said all the right things: this is all normal, I'm not disappointing him, he doesn't need me to be the strong and silent type, he just wants me to be honest with him. It was comforting to hear, and it calmed the self-recriminations in my head for now, but I know they're still there, and all it'll take is another trigger to bring them to the fore again. Knowing that the things in my head are bullshit doesn't make the bullshit go away.
I haven’t been totally useless, though. I’ve set up support systems and extracurricular activities both in and out of school for our son, I do laugh when my husband jokes about all the things we won’t miss (my snoring, his farting, etc.), I listen calmly when he talks about his deployment preparations, I’m mentally present as we make decisions, I enjoy the hobbies we share. But he still reminds me, regularly, that he’s worried about me. He wants me to make friends (he knows all about you guys, but he means people who’ll come get me out of the house), take an online class, volunteer, get counseling. I guess he feels I need a little more than running after kids all day and sitting at home with our son all night, and he’s probably right. I don’t know.
I just know I have seven days left with my husband before I don’t see him for a year … or I possibly never see him again. And I'm not handling it well, or at least not as well as I feel I should.