I believe that every couple goes through trials that test the foundations of their relationship. Some trials are simple hiccups on an otherwise smooth path, and others are a 9.0 earthquake on the Richter scale of life. The ties that bind are tested, and while many make it through to the other side, there are those who don’t.
Every relationship is different just as every person in those relationships is different from the next. We are none of us the same, which is why finding someone and falling in love and spending the rest of your life with them is such a magical idea(l). The odds of finding your perfect (or imperfect) match are tremendous, and in so many ways we set ourselves up for failure because we strive for ‘perfection’ whereas our significant other is concerned, even when we ourselves are far from perfect.
I know my husband is not perfect, but I like to think he’s perfect for me. And I for him.
I cannot pretend that the last two years have been a walk in the park, although I’ve been told that I’ve made it seem so to the casual observer. They didn’t bear witness though to the depths of my self-pity on occasion, and the consequent self-loathing as I felt no right to those emotions since we chose to live separate lives. Many tears were shed and angry emails sent, elation and disappointment felt, sometimes within moments of each other.
It’s been an emotional roller coaster to say the least.
Looking back I can easily say this was been by far the most difficult trial we’ve faced as a couple (for obvious reasons,) and this is after going through two deployments and several out of country exercises together. Out of the six years we've been together, my husband has been physically gone for over four of them. But these last two years demonstrated to me what I’ve always known, just in a clearer light.
We’re meant to be together, but the largest force behind that is we want to be.
Everything we’ve gone through in these six years has come back to that. “I choose you.” Our choice has come with the obvious sacrifices that go hand in hand with being a military family, but in my mind it isn’t a difficult choice. When you truly love someone, what wouldn't you do to be with them? There will always be sacrifices in life and relationships are hardly an exception.
I’ve had many people over the years tell me, “I could never do what you do,” but I don’t think they give themselves enough credit. When you can’t imagine your life without someone, you make up your mind to do what it takes to be together.
No matter what.
My marriage is made of love, patience, understanding, respect, friendship, appreciation, loyalty, and fierce independence. Joy, passion, fits of laughter, tears, heartbreak, anger, resolution, forgiveness, and compassion. Common goals, compromise, amusement, sarcasm, unwavering support, inside jokes, good scotch, black coffee, communication, comfortable silences, knowing glances, stimulating conversation, full disclosure, and separate laundry.
All of these things and more are what make us work. But above all is our desire to make it work. I can only hope that every married person knows exactly that their marriage is made of, because only then do you truly know what’s worth fighting for:
We... Our... Us.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Friday, February 25, 2011
Eat, Pray, Love
"People think a soul mate is our perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life"
- Richard from Texas
I just saw the movie "Eat, Pray, Love" with Julia Roberts on DVD (while drinking wine and eating pasta. And gelato.) And it made me thankful for what I have, but gave me a bit of the travel bug as well. How could it not? Italy, India, Indonesia... some of the most beautiful places in the world, all places I'd love to see someday.
With D, of course.
A few years back I read the book Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, and at the time it was a revelation. I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't read it yet, but her path to self-discovery took her all over the world. She experienced excruciating heartbreak and sadness before she finally found what she was looking for, before she found happiness. I have not experienced the pain she did personally that drove her to make that journey, but when I look back on the last six years of my life or so, I realize that I've been on a journey too.
Many times in life it takes heartbreak or hardship to grow as a person. To finally see yourself clearly, to truly know what your worth is. I feel fortunate enough that I have gone through that without any real emotional scars, and came out on the other side a changed person.
I grew.
I 'met' myself for the first time in my adult life, and finally figured out who hem is on her own. I was living alone in LA at the time, and the period following that heartbreak are some of the happiest memories of my adult life. I met new people and made great friends I still talk to today. I had an active social life. I focused on my career more. All things that so easily fall by the wayside when your life is defined by another person or the relationship you're in, rather than yourself.
I've witnessed friends have their hearts broken but not be changed by it. They still dated the same types of guys who would break their hearts again, and they never seemed to feel that they were worth more than that. Or at least that's what their behavior would indicate.
I know now without a doubt that period of growth for me is why I'm where I am today. I met D about a year after I 'found' myself, and the person he met was the one he fell in love with. The new me. Having that time to myself made me realize what I wanted in a relationship, and when I met him and got to know him, I knew he could make me happy for the rest of my life. But I might not have known that if I hadn't had that year to myself first.
On the flip side being in a relationship with D has changed me as well, but in good ways I think. He is the savory to my sweet. The calm seas to my storm. I look back and see how much I've mellowed since I met him (he has a very calming effect on me). He helps me to not sweat the small stuff, which is something I do all too easily. He puts things into perspective, reminds me of what's really important in life. So I guess really, the person I am now isn't the one he met five years ago. It's a hybrid of who I was then and who I am now, which isn't a bad thing because I still know who I am as a person.
And at the moment, it's a Marine Corps Mistress with the travel bug and a husband who lives six thousand miles away.
:P
I haven't done much traveling thus far in my adult life. I'll be 30 in less than five months and I have zero stamps in my passport. It's something I desperately want to rectify, but my biggest problem is I want to see them with D. All of it. The whole world. And that really isn't going to happen until he and I actually live in the same country, for starters.
I already know where I want to start though: Italy. It looks like a place where you could go and just fall in love all over again in. We've already talked about taking that trip when D rotates home, so I have plenty of time to plan before he gets back.
That and think about all the amazing food we'll get to eat when we finally get there.
- Richard from Texas
I just saw the movie "Eat, Pray, Love" with Julia Roberts on DVD (while drinking wine and eating pasta. And gelato.) And it made me thankful for what I have, but gave me a bit of the travel bug as well. How could it not? Italy, India, Indonesia... some of the most beautiful places in the world, all places I'd love to see someday.
With D, of course.
A few years back I read the book Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, and at the time it was a revelation. I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't read it yet, but her path to self-discovery took her all over the world. She experienced excruciating heartbreak and sadness before she finally found what she was looking for, before she found happiness. I have not experienced the pain she did personally that drove her to make that journey, but when I look back on the last six years of my life or so, I realize that I've been on a journey too.
Many times in life it takes heartbreak or hardship to grow as a person. To finally see yourself clearly, to truly know what your worth is. I feel fortunate enough that I have gone through that without any real emotional scars, and came out on the other side a changed person.
I grew.
I 'met' myself for the first time in my adult life, and finally figured out who hem is on her own. I was living alone in LA at the time, and the period following that heartbreak are some of the happiest memories of my adult life. I met new people and made great friends I still talk to today. I had an active social life. I focused on my career more. All things that so easily fall by the wayside when your life is defined by another person or the relationship you're in, rather than yourself.
I've witnessed friends have their hearts broken but not be changed by it. They still dated the same types of guys who would break their hearts again, and they never seemed to feel that they were worth more than that. Or at least that's what their behavior would indicate.
I know now without a doubt that period of growth for me is why I'm where I am today. I met D about a year after I 'found' myself, and the person he met was the one he fell in love with. The new me. Having that time to myself made me realize what I wanted in a relationship, and when I met him and got to know him, I knew he could make me happy for the rest of my life. But I might not have known that if I hadn't had that year to myself first.
On the flip side being in a relationship with D has changed me as well, but in good ways I think. He is the savory to my sweet. The calm seas to my storm. I look back and see how much I've mellowed since I met him (he has a very calming effect on me). He helps me to not sweat the small stuff, which is something I do all too easily. He puts things into perspective, reminds me of what's really important in life. So I guess really, the person I am now isn't the one he met five years ago. It's a hybrid of who I was then and who I am now, which isn't a bad thing because I still know who I am as a person.
And at the moment, it's a Marine Corps Mistress with the travel bug and a husband who lives six thousand miles away.
:P
I haven't done much traveling thus far in my adult life. I'll be 30 in less than five months and I have zero stamps in my passport. It's something I desperately want to rectify, but my biggest problem is I want to see them with D. All of it. The whole world. And that really isn't going to happen until he and I actually live in the same country, for starters.
I already know where I want to start though: Italy. It looks like a place where you could go and just fall in love all over again in. We've already talked about taking that trip when D rotates home, so I have plenty of time to plan before he gets back.
That and think about all the amazing food we'll get to eat when we finally get there.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Loved
Right now, I'm happy.
Really, really happy.
For all the times where I'm having a hard time, the bad days, frustration... there are days like these where I feel like I'm floating. Of course it doesn't hurt that Monday was Valentine’s Day and it seemed the world was wearing rose colored glasses. Or at least I was. But Hallmark Holidays aside Monday was a good day for many reasons, and I went to bed at the end of the day feeling very loved.
I love days like that.
Out of the five Valentines Days D and I have been together he's been home for three, which isn't too bad all considering. We've had a tradition of making some romantic gesture towards one another every year, some years more grandiose than others. Our first Valentine’s Day together he took me on a dinner cruise on the Hornblower around San Diego harbor and Coronado Island. It was a lot of fun and quite romantic, and every year since he's found some thoughtful way to show me (and/or tell me) that he loves me.
(<--- lucky girl)
I'd learned last Friday night that a girlfriend was going to be alone on Valentine’s Day like I was (her guy had an out of town gig so he wouldn't be home), and I told her she should come over for dinner at my house. I'd been planning on spoiling myself with a delicious Valentine’s Day meal for one, but it would be that much better if there was someone else to share it with and she happily accepted.
I was particularly excited about this meal because I was going to attempt something I'd never done before: I was going to make homemade hollandaise sauce. Julia Child's hollandaise sauce. Last year D and I saw "Julie & Julia" right before Valentine’s Day and it threw me into a Julia Child frenzy. I wanted to cook like that – with that joie-de-vie that Julia possesses – and turn out amazing, butter laden things that make your taste buds sing in delight. Being the wonderful, thoughtful, butter-loving man that he is, D promptly went online and ordered "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" Vol I & II for me for Valentine’s Day (the ultimate act of foodie LOVE!)
So naturally, it only seemed fitting that I should make this year's Valentine’s Day meal with last year's Valentine’s Day gift in honor of D, who is currently enjoying record snow fall in Korea (and I use the term 'enjoying' very loosely, of course...)
Monday morning came and I woke up feeling energized. It just felt like it was going to be a good day. I even went so far as to dress for the occasion: all red and pink, right down to my cardigan and shoes. All day all I could think about was the fabulous meal I was going to go home and make, and how excited I was to finally attempt Hollandaise (what can I say, it's the little things in life that excite me).
I got away from my desk for lunch and indulged in a spicy tuna sushi salad at Bristol Farms. Seriously, one of the best things. Ever. The sunshine felt wonderful and it was an absolutely beautiful day. To make a great day even better though, I came back from lunch to this on my desk:
You have to understand, I've never gotten flowers from D before, EVER. These were my first flowers in five years with the man, so this was not something I expected at all. To have them on my desk that afternoon while I was working (along with the very sweet note he sent) made him feel not so far away. It's those kinds of moments that really keep me going while he's gone because it's yet another reminder that even with over six thousand miles between us, we know how the other feels without having to be physically present. Love has to be expressed through words and gestures when you're not around to show it, and at the end of the day I know my husband loves me with all his heart.
After work my coworker and I had some chocolate spice martinis while we nibbled on triple crème brie with homemade crostini and rosemary Marcona almonds in my kitchen (YUM!). We visited while I prepared dinner and got together all the ingredients for the hollandaise, and it felt like what used to be a normal weeknight for me. When D was home and we'd talk about our day while we cooked dinner together.
I miss that. A lot.
Everything was coming together nicely and right as I was finishing up the hollandaise and getting ready to plate our dinner my phone rang. It was D calling to wish me a happy Valentine’s Day. While standing in the snow. Outside the internet cafe because it wasn't open yet (he was able to log into Skype on his iPhone from outside the cafe using their free Wi-Fi. Yay for Skype!) It was a brief conversation because I was juggling plates and he was technically at work, but it was so good to hear his voice.
That phone call was the missing piece to the puzzle, and my Valentine’s Day was complete. Flowers AND a phone call in one day! I could have died a happy girl. It truly was the perfect ending to a wonderful day.
(Well, that and this... because every wonderful day needs a molten chocolate cake with vanilla crème fraîche to be complete, right?) ;)
Really, really happy.
For all the times where I'm having a hard time, the bad days, frustration... there are days like these where I feel like I'm floating. Of course it doesn't hurt that Monday was Valentine’s Day and it seemed the world was wearing rose colored glasses. Or at least I was. But Hallmark Holidays aside Monday was a good day for many reasons, and I went to bed at the end of the day feeling very loved.
I love days like that.
Out of the five Valentines Days D and I have been together he's been home for three, which isn't too bad all considering. We've had a tradition of making some romantic gesture towards one another every year, some years more grandiose than others. Our first Valentine’s Day together he took me on a dinner cruise on the Hornblower around San Diego harbor and Coronado Island. It was a lot of fun and quite romantic, and every year since he's found some thoughtful way to show me (and/or tell me) that he loves me.
(<--- lucky girl)
I'd learned last Friday night that a girlfriend was going to be alone on Valentine’s Day like I was (her guy had an out of town gig so he wouldn't be home), and I told her she should come over for dinner at my house. I'd been planning on spoiling myself with a delicious Valentine’s Day meal for one, but it would be that much better if there was someone else to share it with and she happily accepted.
I was particularly excited about this meal because I was going to attempt something I'd never done before: I was going to make homemade hollandaise sauce. Julia Child's hollandaise sauce. Last year D and I saw "Julie & Julia" right before Valentine’s Day and it threw me into a Julia Child frenzy. I wanted to cook like that – with that joie-de-vie that Julia possesses – and turn out amazing, butter laden things that make your taste buds sing in delight. Being the wonderful, thoughtful, butter-loving man that he is, D promptly went online and ordered "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" Vol I & II for me for Valentine’s Day (the ultimate act of foodie LOVE!)
So naturally, it only seemed fitting that I should make this year's Valentine’s Day meal with last year's Valentine’s Day gift in honor of D, who is currently enjoying record snow fall in Korea (and I use the term 'enjoying' very loosely, of course...)
Monday morning came and I woke up feeling energized. It just felt like it was going to be a good day. I even went so far as to dress for the occasion: all red and pink, right down to my cardigan and shoes. All day all I could think about was the fabulous meal I was going to go home and make, and how excited I was to finally attempt Hollandaise (what can I say, it's the little things in life that excite me).
I got away from my desk for lunch and indulged in a spicy tuna sushi salad at Bristol Farms. Seriously, one of the best things. Ever. The sunshine felt wonderful and it was an absolutely beautiful day. To make a great day even better though, I came back from lunch to this on my desk:
You have to understand, I've never gotten flowers from D before, EVER. These were my first flowers in five years with the man, so this was not something I expected at all. To have them on my desk that afternoon while I was working (along with the very sweet note he sent) made him feel not so far away. It's those kinds of moments that really keep me going while he's gone because it's yet another reminder that even with over six thousand miles between us, we know how the other feels without having to be physically present. Love has to be expressed through words and gestures when you're not around to show it, and at the end of the day I know my husband loves me with all his heart.
After work my coworker and I had some chocolate spice martinis while we nibbled on triple crème brie with homemade crostini and rosemary Marcona almonds in my kitchen (YUM!). We visited while I prepared dinner and got together all the ingredients for the hollandaise, and it felt like what used to be a normal weeknight for me. When D was home and we'd talk about our day while we cooked dinner together.
I miss that. A lot.
Everything was coming together nicely and right as I was finishing up the hollandaise and getting ready to plate our dinner my phone rang. It was D calling to wish me a happy Valentine’s Day. While standing in the snow. Outside the internet cafe because it wasn't open yet (he was able to log into Skype on his iPhone from outside the cafe using their free Wi-Fi. Yay for Skype!) It was a brief conversation because I was juggling plates and he was technically at work, but it was so good to hear his voice.
That phone call was the missing piece to the puzzle, and my Valentine’s Day was complete. Flowers AND a phone call in one day! I could have died a happy girl. It truly was the perfect ending to a wonderful day.
(Well, that and this... because every wonderful day needs a molten chocolate cake with vanilla crème fraîche to be complete, right?) ;)
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Tour-de-Home Depot
This last weekend was so draining, but it was worth it because I feel like I accomplished so much.
I drove to four (yes, FOUR!) different Home Depots and two different Lowe's over the course of the weekend, all in the quest to get the yard lights that I needed for my landscaping project. Wouldn't you know I needed 17 of these lights, and the most any of the stores near me had was six. I quite literally bought every last one of these things between the four stores I visited, and the Lowe's stops were to find a transformer to handle all the juice needed (200W is too little, and the next one up at Home Depot was 900W, which is waaaaay overkill).
We finally found a 600W transformer who's box hadn't been mangled and still had all the directions and whatnot inside (you'd be amazed how difficult it seems to be to find products that haven't been tampered with in some way, shape, or form at these stores. It's unbelievable what people will do to items they don't intend to buy!) I'm glad we found everything we needed but after spending a whole afternoon in the Land of Men, I needed a beer.
We're in what feels like the home stretch with landscaping the yard, but I'm hesitant to even say that because every time I think we're close something doesn't go exactly the way we planned it would, and suddenly we have a few more days of work to finish what seemed like a simple task when we started. The silver lining to all this is it's giving me that much more time to contemplate my plant choices, and I'm much more confident in what I'll be putting into the ground than I was a week ago. I've decided to go the drought tolerant route since we don't get a lot of rain in CA typically, and water prices were just raised (again) in San Diego county.
Progress is visible after this weekend though, the roses are now in the ground! (although the below pic was taken right before they were planted...)
While we were staging them for planting a neighbor passed by walking his dog, and he stopped and told me, "what you guys are doing looks so good! We all love what you've done with the place, it's absolutely beautiful!" I was so proud at that moment, because when you hear things like that from strangers it's such a good feeling. The real icing on the cake though was as he was walking away, he said, "your house is the crown jewel of the neighborhood!"
The Crown Jewel!
Nothing could have made me happier than hearing that! My heart nearly burst from my chest with pride. Not only did that mean that my neighbors appreciated all the work I've put into the house... that meant whoever wrote that nasty gram was wrong. I am a good neighbor. And maybe if they’d taken the time to knock on my door and introduce themselves, ask my name and find out what my plans for the house were, they would have found that out first hand.
Instead of assuming I was a deadbeat and leaving a nasty note in my mailbox.
In addition to finishing up the yard, I now have to put thought into how I want the garage laid out for when the electrician comes out to hook up the sprinkler and light timers in there. Because naturally, there are no existing outlets on the wall that the timers need to go on. Because that would be too easy (perhaps my next tutorial will be on Garage Organization 101?)
After all this designing, contemplating, trial and error, I feel like I need my own show on HGTV...
I drove to four (yes, FOUR!) different Home Depots and two different Lowe's over the course of the weekend, all in the quest to get the yard lights that I needed for my landscaping project. Wouldn't you know I needed 17 of these lights, and the most any of the stores near me had was six. I quite literally bought every last one of these things between the four stores I visited, and the Lowe's stops were to find a transformer to handle all the juice needed (200W is too little, and the next one up at Home Depot was 900W, which is waaaaay overkill).
We finally found a 600W transformer who's box hadn't been mangled and still had all the directions and whatnot inside (you'd be amazed how difficult it seems to be to find products that haven't been tampered with in some way, shape, or form at these stores. It's unbelievable what people will do to items they don't intend to buy!) I'm glad we found everything we needed but after spending a whole afternoon in the Land of Men, I needed a beer.
We're in what feels like the home stretch with landscaping the yard, but I'm hesitant to even say that because every time I think we're close something doesn't go exactly the way we planned it would, and suddenly we have a few more days of work to finish what seemed like a simple task when we started. The silver lining to all this is it's giving me that much more time to contemplate my plant choices, and I'm much more confident in what I'll be putting into the ground than I was a week ago. I've decided to go the drought tolerant route since we don't get a lot of rain in CA typically, and water prices were just raised (again) in San Diego county.
Progress is visible after this weekend though, the roses are now in the ground! (although the below pic was taken right before they were planted...)
While we were staging them for planting a neighbor passed by walking his dog, and he stopped and told me, "what you guys are doing looks so good! We all love what you've done with the place, it's absolutely beautiful!" I was so proud at that moment, because when you hear things like that from strangers it's such a good feeling. The real icing on the cake though was as he was walking away, he said, "your house is the crown jewel of the neighborhood!"
The Crown Jewel!
Nothing could have made me happier than hearing that! My heart nearly burst from my chest with pride. Not only did that mean that my neighbors appreciated all the work I've put into the house... that meant whoever wrote that nasty gram was wrong. I am a good neighbor. And maybe if they’d taken the time to knock on my door and introduce themselves, ask my name and find out what my plans for the house were, they would have found that out first hand.
Instead of assuming I was a deadbeat and leaving a nasty note in my mailbox.
In addition to finishing up the yard, I now have to put thought into how I want the garage laid out for when the electrician comes out to hook up the sprinkler and light timers in there. Because naturally, there are no existing outlets on the wall that the timers need to go on. Because that would be too easy (perhaps my next tutorial will be on Garage Organization 101?)
After all this designing, contemplating, trial and error, I feel like I need my own show on HGTV...
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Struggle Within
I won't lie; I've had a time of it with D gone as of late.
It's like I took two steps forward in setting up my 'home alone' routine, and his visit at Christmas set me back to square one. In the three weeks he was home I got used to him being around, having someone to talk to. It made me realize just how much I miss him when he's gone.
Normally I adjust when he leaves, keep calm and carry on. I'm really, really good at staying busy, which is a valuable skill set when you're a military wife. I think what's been throwing me off course is the fact that he's not on a deployment, and that sets me up for the expectation that I can talk to him regularly (like we did during his last two deployments). That we can Skype all the time so I can see his face. That we'll still have our usual sarcastic banter back and forth via IM and email that makes it feel like we have a normal relationship, like everyone else who gets to see their spouse every day.
Except we don't.
His new unit and subsequent work schedule keeps him at work 14+ hour days in most cases. Not even weekends are sacred. I emailed the FRO to find out why the crazy hours were a regular thing and was basically told this is just the way it is, so we have to deal with it. Which of course is no comfort, and being half way around the world I don’t have the support of the other wives who are just as husband-less as I am. I am an island (which I find ironic since Okinawa is an island, and San Diego is anything but).
I saw this post on another blog I happened across, Whiskey Straight, and it perfectly articulated how I've been feeling:
I don't want to feed the frustration and bitterness that gets a hold of me every now and then, but it's really hard not to sometimes. I never thought I'd be in a position where talking to my spouse was a luxury, and yet here I am, sometimes going weeks without hearing from D. I also don't want people’s pity though, and that's why I don't really talk about it with anyone. Not my family, not my friends (although I suppose it seems hypocritical to talk about it here). But that's why I started this blog in the first place. It's my Switzerland - the place I can vent all this type of stuff without anyone throwing me a pity party.
My hope when I began writing was that there might be other women like me out there in the blogosphere. Who have moments where they feel like a bad wife for hating their husband's job. For feeling guilty about getting emotional when they've had a bad day and all they want is a hug when they get home, but that's not in the cards. It's about the good, bad and ugly of being a military wife, or any sort of work widow really.
I know I will struggle with my two wolves for the next 10 years of D's career, and that's something I accepted a long time ago. This life is anything but easy, but it is temporary (he's already got his retirement date picked for cryin' out loud). I just have to keep reminding myself of that.
Someday, my husband will be all mine. And I will no longer be a mistress to the Marine Corps.
But for now I choose to feed the good wolf, and remember that all of these sacrifices are worth it in the end.
Because when you love someone, that's all that matters.
It's like I took two steps forward in setting up my 'home alone' routine, and his visit at Christmas set me back to square one. In the three weeks he was home I got used to him being around, having someone to talk to. It made me realize just how much I miss him when he's gone.
Normally I adjust when he leaves, keep calm and carry on. I'm really, really good at staying busy, which is a valuable skill set when you're a military wife. I think what's been throwing me off course is the fact that he's not on a deployment, and that sets me up for the expectation that I can talk to him regularly (like we did during his last two deployments). That we can Skype all the time so I can see his face. That we'll still have our usual sarcastic banter back and forth via IM and email that makes it feel like we have a normal relationship, like everyone else who gets to see their spouse every day.
Except we don't.
His new unit and subsequent work schedule keeps him at work 14+ hour days in most cases. Not even weekends are sacred. I emailed the FRO to find out why the crazy hours were a regular thing and was basically told this is just the way it is, so we have to deal with it. Which of course is no comfort, and being half way around the world I don’t have the support of the other wives who are just as husband-less as I am. I am an island (which I find ironic since Okinawa is an island, and San Diego is anything but).
I saw this post on another blog I happened across, Whiskey Straight, and it perfectly articulated how I've been feeling:
An old Cherokee chief was teaching his grandson about life…
“A fight is going on inside me,” he said to the boy.
“It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves.
“One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, self-doubt, and ego.
“The other is good - he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.
“This same fight is going on inside you - and inside every other person, too.”
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather,
“Which wolf will win?”
The old chief simply replied,
“The one you feed.”
I don't want to feed the frustration and bitterness that gets a hold of me every now and then, but it's really hard not to sometimes. I never thought I'd be in a position where talking to my spouse was a luxury, and yet here I am, sometimes going weeks without hearing from D. I also don't want people’s pity though, and that's why I don't really talk about it with anyone. Not my family, not my friends (although I suppose it seems hypocritical to talk about it here). But that's why I started this blog in the first place. It's my Switzerland - the place I can vent all this type of stuff without anyone throwing me a pity party.
My hope when I began writing was that there might be other women like me out there in the blogosphere. Who have moments where they feel like a bad wife for hating their husband's job. For feeling guilty about getting emotional when they've had a bad day and all they want is a hug when they get home, but that's not in the cards. It's about the good, bad and ugly of being a military wife, or any sort of work widow really.
I know I will struggle with my two wolves for the next 10 years of D's career, and that's something I accepted a long time ago. This life is anything but easy, but it is temporary (he's already got his retirement date picked for cryin' out loud). I just have to keep reminding myself of that.
Someday, my husband will be all mine. And I will no longer be a mistress to the Marine Corps.
But for now I choose to feed the good wolf, and remember that all of these sacrifices are worth it in the end.
Because when you love someone, that's all that matters.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
A Time To Plant...
...a time to rip my hair out in frustration.
I thought the hard part was over when the hard scape portion of my yard project was done. We put up a new fence (custom made by Dad!), distributed gypsum to help break down all the lovely clay that makes up pretty much all of San Diego County, put in drain pipes and filled in the planter that was empty (and non-existent) before. I've even had gutters installed to help preserve the hard scape and newly minted planter beds in the front yard from the roof runoff that we were having while it was raining. For what felt like the entire month of December. What I didn't anticipate though was how hard it was going to be to decide what, exactly, I was going to put in those planters. Besides plants.
Why is this so hard?
Sure, I know where the grass and roses are going to go, but I'm still left with three empty planter areas and a whole host of possibilities that makes my head spin. I know part of the problem is I'm putting undue pressure on myself, but this is the front yard of my house.
My calling card.
The first impression people will have of me as a homeowner, before ever having laid eyes on me or met me.
Every opinion formed of me by every stranger who ever passes by my home will be based on what they think of my yard.
Yea, no pressure or anything.
(Normally I don't care too much about what other people think, but my home is a source of pride for me. That and I have an HOA. 'nuff said).
If it sucks, then that's all people will be able to see. It will distract them from all the gorgeous stack stone and the five stone, variegated, tumbled pavers I just put down. That and the fact that I took the time to painstakingly scrutinize five shades of white to ensure my gutters perfectly match my trim and stucco? That will all be for naught because all they can think is, "what were they thinking with those plants?" (Overly dramatic? Perhaps, but bear with me... I'm trying to make a point).
If it's fabulous, I can relax knowing that I'm not the one bringing down everyone's property value, and can have the self satisfaction of having raised the bar for the neighborhood that much more. In the spirit of full disclosure I should note: we received an anonymous nasty gram in our mailbox about the state of our yard right after we'd moved in, which neither of us have forgotten or quite forgiven. The ink wasn't even dry yet on our mortgage, we'd been homeowners for a matter of weeks and suddenly there was a note saying "If you don't have time to take care of your yard, you should hire someone to do it for you." It was all I could do to keep D from going door to door demanding to know who'd written it. Luckily for them we were already planning on ripping the yard out (which is why we weren't watering it), but that only added fuel to the fire.
Rude, gutless neighbors aside; I want a yard I can be proud of. Something that's beautiful for my benefit, first and foremost. I've been scouring books and nurseries for ideas, and let me tell you, if you want to be overwhelmed pick up a copy of the Sunset Gardener's Handbook. Ho-ly Cow. Anything you could ever want to know about any sort of plant is in there, which is probably why it's not the best place to start. It's a lot to digest all at once without actually being able to see anything in person.
Naturally I'd love D's input on these sorts of things, but of course his living in a different country doesn't lend itself to helping with weekend projects such as these. Dad's been my man power during the last six months, and for that I've been eternally grateful. Next up on our list is to finish distributing the mulch in the planters, rototill everything in to mix it all up, finish removing the last of the tree roots from the 20’ tree I had ripped out of the front yard, and then rent a trencher to dig the trenches for the sprinkler and electrical conduits. (Ah yes, Landscape Design 101 continues...) After that we can install the sprinklers and start to actually plant some plants!
Which of course brings me back to... what exactly am I going to put in the planters?
I thought the hard part was over when the hard scape portion of my yard project was done. We put up a new fence (custom made by Dad!), distributed gypsum to help break down all the lovely clay that makes up pretty much all of San Diego County, put in drain pipes and filled in the planter that was empty (and non-existent) before. I've even had gutters installed to help preserve the hard scape and newly minted planter beds in the front yard from the roof runoff that we were having while it was raining. For what felt like the entire month of December. What I didn't anticipate though was how hard it was going to be to decide what, exactly, I was going to put in those planters. Besides plants.
Why is this so hard?
Sure, I know where the grass and roses are going to go, but I'm still left with three empty planter areas and a whole host of possibilities that makes my head spin. I know part of the problem is I'm putting undue pressure on myself, but this is the front yard of my house.
My calling card.
The first impression people will have of me as a homeowner, before ever having laid eyes on me or met me.
Every opinion formed of me by every stranger who ever passes by my home will be based on what they think of my yard.
Yea, no pressure or anything.
(Normally I don't care too much about what other people think, but my home is a source of pride for me. That and I have an HOA. 'nuff said).
If it sucks, then that's all people will be able to see. It will distract them from all the gorgeous stack stone and the five stone, variegated, tumbled pavers I just put down. That and the fact that I took the time to painstakingly scrutinize five shades of white to ensure my gutters perfectly match my trim and stucco? That will all be for naught because all they can think is, "what were they thinking with those plants?" (Overly dramatic? Perhaps, but bear with me... I'm trying to make a point).
If it's fabulous, I can relax knowing that I'm not the one bringing down everyone's property value, and can have the self satisfaction of having raised the bar for the neighborhood that much more. In the spirit of full disclosure I should note: we received an anonymous nasty gram in our mailbox about the state of our yard right after we'd moved in, which neither of us have forgotten or quite forgiven. The ink wasn't even dry yet on our mortgage, we'd been homeowners for a matter of weeks and suddenly there was a note saying "If you don't have time to take care of your yard, you should hire someone to do it for you." It was all I could do to keep D from going door to door demanding to know who'd written it. Luckily for them we were already planning on ripping the yard out (which is why we weren't watering it), but that only added fuel to the fire.
Rude, gutless neighbors aside; I want a yard I can be proud of. Something that's beautiful for my benefit, first and foremost. I've been scouring books and nurseries for ideas, and let me tell you, if you want to be overwhelmed pick up a copy of the Sunset Gardener's Handbook. Ho-ly Cow. Anything you could ever want to know about any sort of plant is in there, which is probably why it's not the best place to start. It's a lot to digest all at once without actually being able to see anything in person.
Naturally I'd love D's input on these sorts of things, but of course his living in a different country doesn't lend itself to helping with weekend projects such as these. Dad's been my man power during the last six months, and for that I've been eternally grateful. Next up on our list is to finish distributing the mulch in the planters, rototill everything in to mix it all up, finish removing the last of the tree roots from the 20’ tree I had ripped out of the front yard, and then rent a trencher to dig the trenches for the sprinkler and electrical conduits. (Ah yes, Landscape Design 101 continues...) After that we can install the sprinklers and start to actually plant some plants!
Which of course brings me back to... what exactly am I going to put in the planters?
Saturday, January 22, 2011
New Year, Same Song and Dance
I can't believe it's 2011. Where did 2010 go?
The last few months have been a blur (hence the lack of posting), but that's what happens during the holidays. It also hasn't helped that this year has felt insanely busy already, and we're only (less than) a month in. I'm hoping this isn't a sign of things to come...
This last Thanksgiving was a little weird because it was the first one I hadn't spent with D since we met, which is pretty incredible given his occupation. It was still a good one though - I went to my parent’s house and we had a small get together with family and friends. I even made The Best Pie, EVER! (bourbon-pecan pumpkin butter pie). I know, you wish you'd been there to have some. Dad brined the turkey and mom and dad's friends the Smith's brought a family recipe to the table: pork sausage dressing. I thought I'd died and gone to stuffing heaven. Needless to say there was no shortage of good food or company to be had, but it still felt a little hollow with D gone.
The great thing about November and December is you get two major holidays within a month of each other. The even better thing this last year was D came home for three weeks to spend Christmas with me in our new home! It's hard to quantify how you feel when you see the person you love the most for the first time in three and a half months. It was like he never left. We fell so easily back into our routine, right down to the way he holds my hand while I'm driving when we were on our way home from the airport. Everything felt right and whole again.
And then, there was the big reveal.
I'd been secretly dying to know what he'd think of the house when he saw it for the first time in person. All the time, work, (money!!!) and labor were only worth it if he liked it as much as I did. Pictures only show you so much when you're dealing with a project of this scale, but my husband was clearly in awe when we rounded the corner into the cul-de-sac, with that "whoa" look in his eyes. He was very pleased with the end result which only added to my joy that day.
We made the most of the time we had and within the first two weeks were so deep into a food and drink coma that it was obvious that some serious detox would be needed to come out of it. But, what are the holidays if not a time to eat, drink, and be merry with the ones we love?
Christmas was fantastic, and being able to spend it together in our new home made it all the more special. We realized a little too late that we were feeling a bit drained from all our activities though, trying to squeeze as much into his visit as we could. I'd wanted so badly to see and do all the things I hadn't been able to do with him over the last few months, but what he really wanted to do was sit at home and just relax, with nowhere to be and nothing to do. It's hard to plan for everything, especially once you're in the thick of it.
Before we knew it our time was up. New Years had come and gone, and we found ourselves with a still lengthy to-do list and no more time to do anything. It's so hard not to feel selfish when I watch him pack and can't help but say, "I wish you didn't have to go."
Luckily work has kept me very busy over the last few weeks, so I haven't had too much time to really sit and feel lonely. Our talking schedule hasn't gotten any better sadly, as D returned to 14+ hour work days and the 17 hour time difference that makes talking so hard to begin with. What's really crazy is he's been over there for six months already, so depending on when he gets his next set of orders we could be 1/3 of the way through. It just goes to show that even in the most undesirable of situations, time still flies.
I've been surprised at how life has been with D away this time around. It feels different, perhaps because it's more than just a deployment, but it's definitely more stressful on my end (and that's without a wedding to plan!) All the moving parts that go into homeownership and maintenance, the responsibilities, (the cleaning!) are all things I had no real way to prepare for. But seeing as how a large part of our lives are spent apart, I'm taking it as a character building exercise. D married me because he knew I could handle it (well, that and he couldn't live without me).
I will say this: I'm looking forward to everything 2011 has to offer because I know no matter what happens, we'll take the lemons, add some sugar and vodka and have ourselves a party. ;)
The last few months have been a blur (hence the lack of posting), but that's what happens during the holidays. It also hasn't helped that this year has felt insanely busy already, and we're only (less than) a month in. I'm hoping this isn't a sign of things to come...
This last Thanksgiving was a little weird because it was the first one I hadn't spent with D since we met, which is pretty incredible given his occupation. It was still a good one though - I went to my parent’s house and we had a small get together with family and friends. I even made The Best Pie, EVER! (bourbon-pecan pumpkin butter pie). I know, you wish you'd been there to have some. Dad brined the turkey and mom and dad's friends the Smith's brought a family recipe to the table: pork sausage dressing. I thought I'd died and gone to stuffing heaven. Needless to say there was no shortage of good food or company to be had, but it still felt a little hollow with D gone.
The great thing about November and December is you get two major holidays within a month of each other. The even better thing this last year was D came home for three weeks to spend Christmas with me in our new home! It's hard to quantify how you feel when you see the person you love the most for the first time in three and a half months. It was like he never left. We fell so easily back into our routine, right down to the way he holds my hand while I'm driving when we were on our way home from the airport. Everything felt right and whole again.
And then, there was the big reveal.
I'd been secretly dying to know what he'd think of the house when he saw it for the first time in person. All the time, work, (money!!!) and labor were only worth it if he liked it as much as I did. Pictures only show you so much when you're dealing with a project of this scale, but my husband was clearly in awe when we rounded the corner into the cul-de-sac, with that "whoa" look in his eyes. He was very pleased with the end result which only added to my joy that day.
We made the most of the time we had and within the first two weeks were so deep into a food and drink coma that it was obvious that some serious detox would be needed to come out of it. But, what are the holidays if not a time to eat, drink, and be merry with the ones we love?
Christmas was fantastic, and being able to spend it together in our new home made it all the more special. We realized a little too late that we were feeling a bit drained from all our activities though, trying to squeeze as much into his visit as we could. I'd wanted so badly to see and do all the things I hadn't been able to do with him over the last few months, but what he really wanted to do was sit at home and just relax, with nowhere to be and nothing to do. It's hard to plan for everything, especially once you're in the thick of it.
Before we knew it our time was up. New Years had come and gone, and we found ourselves with a still lengthy to-do list and no more time to do anything. It's so hard not to feel selfish when I watch him pack and can't help but say, "I wish you didn't have to go."
Luckily work has kept me very busy over the last few weeks, so I haven't had too much time to really sit and feel lonely. Our talking schedule hasn't gotten any better sadly, as D returned to 14+ hour work days and the 17 hour time difference that makes talking so hard to begin with. What's really crazy is he's been over there for six months already, so depending on when he gets his next set of orders we could be 1/3 of the way through. It just goes to show that even in the most undesirable of situations, time still flies.
I've been surprised at how life has been with D away this time around. It feels different, perhaps because it's more than just a deployment, but it's definitely more stressful on my end (and that's without a wedding to plan!) All the moving parts that go into homeownership and maintenance, the responsibilities, (the cleaning!) are all things I had no real way to prepare for. But seeing as how a large part of our lives are spent apart, I'm taking it as a character building exercise. D married me because he knew I could handle it (well, that and he couldn't live without me).
I will say this: I'm looking forward to everything 2011 has to offer because I know no matter what happens, we'll take the lemons, add some sugar and vodka and have ourselves a party. ;)
Monday, November 15, 2010
Help
I'm a person who prides herself on being self sufficient. I have to be. My independence is a large part of my identity, but I've found that over the years I don't cling to that the way I used to. I have a family now – I’m a wife – and with that I have to let go a little. I'll be the first to admit I'm a work in progress when it comes to letting go, but I am making an effort and I know I'm better than I used to be.
This weekend I found myself in a situation where I couldn't be completely self sufficient though. I had a weekend full of plans with friends. The first 'fun' weekend I'd had in awhile. I was really looking forward to everything, and then suddenly my plans were changed with the slice of a cucumber.
I was making a salad to take to a girlfriend's baby shower on Saturday morning. A cucumber salad. I was trying to get everything done and I was keenly aware that I was running late. As I finished slicing the cucumber in my hand I was thinking about everything I still had left to do, and then I felt it. I looked down, and for a split second I saw the white of freshly exposed flesh on the edge of my thumb. Flesh that had never seen sunlight. Or had felt air. Or had encountered cucumber juice. And just as quickly it was covered in a gush of blood.
I had, quite literally, cut off part of my thumb.
I quickly grabbed a paper towel and squeezed down on my finger. Looking back to the cutting board I flipped over the mandolin and saw a pinky nail sized piece of flesh stuck to the underside of the blade. I carefully slid it off and placed it back on my thumb. Not so bad, right? It was a decent enough chunk that I wasn't going to write it off, but at the same time I doubted any Dr. would see it as worth sewing back on. It was at that point I froze and realized: I had no idea where to go. I didn't know where the Naval Hospital was on base, and even if I did, it wasn't like I could drive myself there. I quickly grabbed my phone with my free fingers and started calling my girlfriends in the area. They were all military wives so I knew someone would know where to take me. Every number I called went unanswered. Who knew that at 10a on a Saturday morning I'd go 0-4 when there was an actual emergency? That was when the panic started to set it. I didn't want to call 911 because it wasn't a life threatening emergency. I wasn't able to really type well because of the pressure I was holding on my hand, so Googling what I didn't already know was out of the question. I don't think I've ever felt more alone or isolated than I did at that moment. All of my self sufficiency wasn't doing me a lick of good right then. I needed help, and for once when I was willing to seek it out and accept it I couldn't find any. I could feel tears in my eyes in sheer frustration at my situation. The one thing I wanted more than anything was for D to be there, and that was the one most impossible thing I could have asked for.
I sat for a moment and racked my brain, trying to think of what my options were, and I realized the most obvious option lived next door. I'd met my neighbors on a few occasions and had even exchanged contact info with them, and while I hate imposing on people I don't know very well, this was one time I knew I didn't have a choice. I quickly made my way next door and rang the doorbell. As I stood on their porch I realized I was shaking. My nerves were starting to fail me as the gravity of my situation was starting to sink in.
I had just cut off part of my thumb 15 minutes ago. Holy $%*&!
My neighbor answered the door still in his bathrobe and was his usual jovial self until he saw the look on my face and the bloody paper towel clenched in my hand. I tried to return his now faltering smile but I just couldn't do it. He asked me, "What happened? Did you cut yourself?" and I could see his smile fading fast, being quickly replaced by a look of concern. I opened my mouth to tell him and suddenly got choked up. I don't know why. I finally managed to squeak out, "I need help."
The next ten minutes were a blur. He brought me into his kitchen and sat me on a stool at the breakfast bar. I could tell he was starting to panic too because he was pacing back and forth as he asked me questions. I managed to tell him what happened but my composure was completely gone at that point. The tears were streaming down my face and I could not make them stop. He brought me some tissues while he went and told his wife what was going on. He then came back and asked me which hospital I needed to go to, and I had to admit I didn't know. He wanted to call the medics but I protested. I knew he was feeling overwhelmed and wanted someone to take care of me right away, but in spite of everything happening, the entire situation - the bloody paper towel in my hand, the piece of my thumb that was no longer attached - the first thing that popped into my brain when he said call the medics was, "and how much will that cost me?" (Ah, the Ever Present Question... the true sign of a new homeowner, right?)
He was adamant about calling though, so I let him. Within three minutes they were there, and suddenly it was like the pages of a firefighter's calendar walking into the kitchen. I didn't know that many good looking guys could be in the same room at once. I'm pretty sure you need a permit for that sort of thing. They were all very nice and professional, but I'm sure they could see that I was shaken up. After peeling away the paper towel so they could see the damage they weighed in on my options. They echoed my assessment that there wasn't enough to sew back on, but the flap was just large enough that it'd leave a sizable dent if removed. They asked me if I wanted them to take me to the hospital, but I thanked them and declined. That just seemed way too overkill to me for what amounted to a flesh wound. My neighbor's wife had emerged from getting dressed at this point and offered to take me to the ER, so I took her up on it. A wave of relief washed over me as I got into her car. I knew everything was going to be alright.
After all was said and done I didn't get any stitches (no surprise). I currently have a mummy thumb, all wrapped in gauze, and go back tomorrow for my 'wound check'. The term the nurse used when calling back for my treatment was "partial finger amputation".
Yuck.
I'm doing better now. I got to talk to D on Saturday night which helped a lot. He was sympathetic to my plight but he's been dealing with his own issues lately (work related,) so we both talked about what was on our minds. I wish it was easier for us to have those types of conversations, I always feel so much better after we do. I'm grateful that I have such wonderful neighbors, and that I was able to push my comfort zone and ask for help when in less severe circumstances I might not have been able to.
As far as my self sufficiency is concerned, even I realize that there are limits to what we can do for ourselves. I just feel fortunate that I was able to get help when I really needed it.
This weekend I found myself in a situation where I couldn't be completely self sufficient though. I had a weekend full of plans with friends. The first 'fun' weekend I'd had in awhile. I was really looking forward to everything, and then suddenly my plans were changed with the slice of a cucumber.
I was making a salad to take to a girlfriend's baby shower on Saturday morning. A cucumber salad. I was trying to get everything done and I was keenly aware that I was running late. As I finished slicing the cucumber in my hand I was thinking about everything I still had left to do, and then I felt it. I looked down, and for a split second I saw the white of freshly exposed flesh on the edge of my thumb. Flesh that had never seen sunlight. Or had felt air. Or had encountered cucumber juice. And just as quickly it was covered in a gush of blood.
I had, quite literally, cut off part of my thumb.
I quickly grabbed a paper towel and squeezed down on my finger. Looking back to the cutting board I flipped over the mandolin and saw a pinky nail sized piece of flesh stuck to the underside of the blade. I carefully slid it off and placed it back on my thumb. Not so bad, right? It was a decent enough chunk that I wasn't going to write it off, but at the same time I doubted any Dr. would see it as worth sewing back on. It was at that point I froze and realized: I had no idea where to go. I didn't know where the Naval Hospital was on base, and even if I did, it wasn't like I could drive myself there. I quickly grabbed my phone with my free fingers and started calling my girlfriends in the area. They were all military wives so I knew someone would know where to take me. Every number I called went unanswered. Who knew that at 10a on a Saturday morning I'd go 0-4 when there was an actual emergency? That was when the panic started to set it. I didn't want to call 911 because it wasn't a life threatening emergency. I wasn't able to really type well because of the pressure I was holding on my hand, so Googling what I didn't already know was out of the question. I don't think I've ever felt more alone or isolated than I did at that moment. All of my self sufficiency wasn't doing me a lick of good right then. I needed help, and for once when I was willing to seek it out and accept it I couldn't find any. I could feel tears in my eyes in sheer frustration at my situation. The one thing I wanted more than anything was for D to be there, and that was the one most impossible thing I could have asked for.
I sat for a moment and racked my brain, trying to think of what my options were, and I realized the most obvious option lived next door. I'd met my neighbors on a few occasions and had even exchanged contact info with them, and while I hate imposing on people I don't know very well, this was one time I knew I didn't have a choice. I quickly made my way next door and rang the doorbell. As I stood on their porch I realized I was shaking. My nerves were starting to fail me as the gravity of my situation was starting to sink in.
I had just cut off part of my thumb 15 minutes ago. Holy $%*&!
My neighbor answered the door still in his bathrobe and was his usual jovial self until he saw the look on my face and the bloody paper towel clenched in my hand. I tried to return his now faltering smile but I just couldn't do it. He asked me, "What happened? Did you cut yourself?" and I could see his smile fading fast, being quickly replaced by a look of concern. I opened my mouth to tell him and suddenly got choked up. I don't know why. I finally managed to squeak out, "I need help."
The next ten minutes were a blur. He brought me into his kitchen and sat me on a stool at the breakfast bar. I could tell he was starting to panic too because he was pacing back and forth as he asked me questions. I managed to tell him what happened but my composure was completely gone at that point. The tears were streaming down my face and I could not make them stop. He brought me some tissues while he went and told his wife what was going on. He then came back and asked me which hospital I needed to go to, and I had to admit I didn't know. He wanted to call the medics but I protested. I knew he was feeling overwhelmed and wanted someone to take care of me right away, but in spite of everything happening, the entire situation - the bloody paper towel in my hand, the piece of my thumb that was no longer attached - the first thing that popped into my brain when he said call the medics was, "and how much will that cost me?" (Ah, the Ever Present Question... the true sign of a new homeowner, right?)
He was adamant about calling though, so I let him. Within three minutes they were there, and suddenly it was like the pages of a firefighter's calendar walking into the kitchen. I didn't know that many good looking guys could be in the same room at once. I'm pretty sure you need a permit for that sort of thing. They were all very nice and professional, but I'm sure they could see that I was shaken up. After peeling away the paper towel so they could see the damage they weighed in on my options. They echoed my assessment that there wasn't enough to sew back on, but the flap was just large enough that it'd leave a sizable dent if removed. They asked me if I wanted them to take me to the hospital, but I thanked them and declined. That just seemed way too overkill to me for what amounted to a flesh wound. My neighbor's wife had emerged from getting dressed at this point and offered to take me to the ER, so I took her up on it. A wave of relief washed over me as I got into her car. I knew everything was going to be alright.
After all was said and done I didn't get any stitches (no surprise). I currently have a mummy thumb, all wrapped in gauze, and go back tomorrow for my 'wound check'. The term the nurse used when calling back for my treatment was "partial finger amputation".
Yuck.
I'm doing better now. I got to talk to D on Saturday night which helped a lot. He was sympathetic to my plight but he's been dealing with his own issues lately (work related,) so we both talked about what was on our minds. I wish it was easier for us to have those types of conversations, I always feel so much better after we do. I'm grateful that I have such wonderful neighbors, and that I was able to push my comfort zone and ask for help when in less severe circumstances I might not have been able to.
As far as my self sufficiency is concerned, even I realize that there are limits to what we can do for ourselves. I just feel fortunate that I was able to get help when I really needed it.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Decisions
I was going through my email account cleaning things up when I got to the drafts folder. In it was an email I'd started a year ago, and I remembered being wrought with emotion while I was writing it. I never ended up sending it, although I still tear up thinking about that period of time and where we are now. It was exactly one year ago that we found out that D had to leave CA and go to another unit, either in North Carolina or Japan (and I guess we know how that went...)
D came home late from work one day and I could tell something was wrong. So I asked him what was going on, and he told me. Just like that. No prep, no easing into it. The bomb was dropped. And all at once I felt like my world was crumbling around me. I couldn't even look at him as he discussed what our options were - he'd had all day to process this information and think it over while I was speechless, pretending to wash the dishes with my back to him so he couldn't see the tears rolling down my face. We'd been told only a month before that we would get to stay in CA for at least another year. We'd just gotten married and had started looking for a house to buy. I'd finally started to plan my life here in San Diego, something I hadn't really allowed myself to do before and suddenly that was being taken away. I was bitter, but I couldn't show it because I wasn't allowed to be. I chose this life when I chose D.
On top of it all, after spending the day weighing all the options, D told me his first choice was to go unaccompanied to Japan. It would mean only two years away instead of three, and a slightly better chance of getting to come back to San Diego instead of being sent somewhere else. All I could think was, "but that means we won't be together..."
I cried myself to sleep that night. Everyone knows that with military life comes these possibilities, but it's like getting a vaccine: even if you know it's coming, it can still hurt. A lot.
My email was to one of my best friends, LT. She's my voice of reason when I have a difficult decision to make, because I can always count on her to give it to me straight. No sugar coating or just telling me what I want to hear. I outlined the pros and cons for each scenario and wanted her to look at the situation from an objective standpoint and tell me if there was anything I was missing. Any silver lining I couldn't see. Because really, when I looked at all my options listed in bullit points my eyes kept going to the same lines:
Option 3: D goes unaccompanied to Japan
Cons
At that point we'd barely been married for two months. D had only returned from his fourth deployment three months earlier. I'd just gotten him home and was now having to contemplate living apart from him for years, not just months at a time with a set return date to look forward to. All of our options felt like one big lose-lose for one reason or another.
Ultimately I didn't send the email to LT because I realized that as much as I wanted help making this decision, nothing anyone said to me was going to make me feel better or make the situation easier to accept. I knew that whatever decisions D and I ended up making would be with our best long term interests in mind, and at the end of the day a few years of our life spent apart would be a drop in the bucket when we have the rest of our lives to spend together. We ended up finding out a few weeks later that D was being stationed in Japan, and at that time he requested to go unaccompanied.
I still have moments where I wonder what things would be like if I'd gone with him. And conversely, I have moments where I'm glad that I stayed. I struggle with the lack of communication at times, and I get frustrated when I have things I want to say but no one to say them to. When I have a good day and no one to share it with. When I have a bad day and just need a hug, but come home to an empty house.
Overall, I miss my friend...
D came home late from work one day and I could tell something was wrong. So I asked him what was going on, and he told me. Just like that. No prep, no easing into it. The bomb was dropped. And all at once I felt like my world was crumbling around me. I couldn't even look at him as he discussed what our options were - he'd had all day to process this information and think it over while I was speechless, pretending to wash the dishes with my back to him so he couldn't see the tears rolling down my face. We'd been told only a month before that we would get to stay in CA for at least another year. We'd just gotten married and had started looking for a house to buy. I'd finally started to plan my life here in San Diego, something I hadn't really allowed myself to do before and suddenly that was being taken away. I was bitter, but I couldn't show it because I wasn't allowed to be. I chose this life when I chose D.
On top of it all, after spending the day weighing all the options, D told me his first choice was to go unaccompanied to Japan. It would mean only two years away instead of three, and a slightly better chance of getting to come back to San Diego instead of being sent somewhere else. All I could think was, "but that means we won't be together..."
I cried myself to sleep that night. Everyone knows that with military life comes these possibilities, but it's like getting a vaccine: even if you know it's coming, it can still hurt. A lot.
My email was to one of my best friends, LT. She's my voice of reason when I have a difficult decision to make, because I can always count on her to give it to me straight. No sugar coating or just telling me what I want to hear. I outlined the pros and cons for each scenario and wanted her to look at the situation from an objective standpoint and tell me if there was anything I was missing. Any silver lining I couldn't see. Because really, when I looked at all my options listed in bullit points my eyes kept going to the same lines:
Option 3: D goes unaccompanied to Japan
Cons
- we won't be together
- life will essentially be put on hold for two years
At that point we'd barely been married for two months. D had only returned from his fourth deployment three months earlier. I'd just gotten him home and was now having to contemplate living apart from him for years, not just months at a time with a set return date to look forward to. All of our options felt like one big lose-lose for one reason or another.
Ultimately I didn't send the email to LT because I realized that as much as I wanted help making this decision, nothing anyone said to me was going to make me feel better or make the situation easier to accept. I knew that whatever decisions D and I ended up making would be with our best long term interests in mind, and at the end of the day a few years of our life spent apart would be a drop in the bucket when we have the rest of our lives to spend together. We ended up finding out a few weeks later that D was being stationed in Japan, and at that time he requested to go unaccompanied.
I still have moments where I wonder what things would be like if I'd gone with him. And conversely, I have moments where I'm glad that I stayed. I struggle with the lack of communication at times, and I get frustrated when I have things I want to say but no one to say them to. When I have a good day and no one to share it with. When I have a bad day and just need a hug, but come home to an empty house.
Overall, I miss my friend...
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Makeover
So, I've been really bad about updating my blog.
I thought for sure with D gone I'd be blogging constantly - and yet, true to form - I've found an all consuming project that has taken pretty much all of my free time. Who knew my foray into the land of landscape design would take over my life?
In two more days I will no longer have a front yard that remotely resembles the yard I had when we bought the house just two and a half months ago. It's been a thrilling process as far as dreaming up something in my head and seeing it come to life on such a large scale. Yet at the same time, it's sad/scary because D hasn't really had a hand in any of it, and the last time I was dealing with dollar figures this high I was buying a car.
Things are really moving along though. It feels like all the pieces are falling into place at breakneck speed, and I still marvel at all the different working parts needed to remodel a yard. Just to give you a better idea of how I've spent my free time in the last month and a half, here's an overview:
Landscape Design, 101
First there was the whole design phase where I spent a few weeks deciding what I wanted the 'new' yard to look like. That included discussing semantics with my dad like where to place the conduit pipes to run the electrical and water lines through for the sprinkler system and lights in the yard (because what's the point of redoing your yard if you're not going to install an automatic sprinkler system while you're at it?) All of these were going to be laid down under the pavers, so I had to map them out on my plans to make sure they were included in the bids.
Then there's drain placement so the hardscape and landscape drain properly. Then there's walkway width (because of course, you don't want them too wide or too narrow). Naturally that segues into the overall flow of the hardscape and landscape placement and their functionality, not to mention the Ever Present Question, "and just how much is all of this going to cost me?"
After we got all of those details squared away I started shopping my design to various paver companies to get the answer to said Ever Present Question. I looked at paver colors, patterns, sizes, and shapes and settled on what I thought would go best with the house. I got quotes that were in line with how much I thought it'd cost, and I got quotes that made me scratch my head and go, "do they think I'm a schmuck or something?" After going over the numbers and driving around to see the workmanship from their reference lists (HIGHLY recommended if you're ever hiring a contractor of any sort... a reputable one will have a reference list they will give out gladly, and should frankly volunteer), I settled on the outfit who had the best quality of workmanship and ironically, was the lowest bid as well. Funny enough, picking an outfit was (almost) the easiest part of the process...
After the designs were done I started researching what all I'd need to get done before they ripped out my concrete. Turns out, quite a bit. I had several trees in the yard I wanted removed (well, I wanted everything removed actually,) so I contacted local arbor specialists to get quotes from that group of people. Since the plants all needed to be removed before the hardscape project started, finding a yard demo company was a pressing matter. On top of that, since they'd be digging to remove the plants, I needed Dig Alert to notify all the utility companies (gas, electric, cable, water, telephone) so they could come out and mark where all their lines and mains were so no one would accidently rupture the gas line and blow up the neighborhood. Minor detail. After giving all of them my laundry list (removal of 13 trees, plants, shrubs, bushes, grass, with rototilling and grinding out the stumps of all above mentioned trees) and receiving quotes, I had my crew chosen and a demo date set.
And still, we're not done. Since the side yard was getting redone as well, I needed my air conditioner moved so they could break up the concrete beneath it and put pavers down so it would look all nice and pretty when they were done. Did you know it costs $100 just to have an AC guy come disconnect your AC and move it a few feet to the backyard? Yea, neither did I (and apparently that's a great deal too!) Oh, and if you want it moved back and reconnected, that will be an additional $250. Of course when they removed the AC they found it had been placed right in front of the dryer vent (genius!), so the whole backside was covered in dryer lint, which naturally makes it less efficient. (They also found a black widow spider living in there, which makes me glad I wasn't home for that particular project. Not a fan of arachnids). Knowing this for when we reconnect it, we can move it further down the wall and prevent that from being an issue in the future. But moving it farther down will cost an extra $50 since we'll need longer wires and lines to move it away from its current outlets.
This is the point where you stop caring about an extra $50 because in the grand scheme of this project, it's become a drop in the bucket.
Oh, and none of this even takes into consideration the fact that I have an HOA in my neighborhood, and they have to approve my plans before anyone is allowed to come destroy my yard. Luckily that's been the easiest part of this whole project. I received a 'unanimous' approval less than 24 hours after emailing them my plans. Guess my neighbors hate my yard as much as I do. :P
So in the last four days my entire yard has been dug up and rototilled, my AC has been moved, and the outlines of my hardscape have been spray painted onto the yard so I can see what my paper plans look like in a life size scale. As you can imagine, the excitement is really starting to set in. More than anything I feel so incredibly fortunate that my parents live so close, and that my dad is retired and can act as project manager while I'm at work during the week. Him being available like this is really what even makes this whole thing possible.
What will make all of this worth it of course will be having a beautiful new yard to enjoy.
That and the look on D's face when he comes home and doesn't recognize his own house (LOL!!)
I thought for sure with D gone I'd be blogging constantly - and yet, true to form - I've found an all consuming project that has taken pretty much all of my free time. Who knew my foray into the land of landscape design would take over my life?
In two more days I will no longer have a front yard that remotely resembles the yard I had when we bought the house just two and a half months ago. It's been a thrilling process as far as dreaming up something in my head and seeing it come to life on such a large scale. Yet at the same time, it's sad/scary because D hasn't really had a hand in any of it, and the last time I was dealing with dollar figures this high I was buying a car.
Things are really moving along though. It feels like all the pieces are falling into place at breakneck speed, and I still marvel at all the different working parts needed to remodel a yard. Just to give you a better idea of how I've spent my free time in the last month and a half, here's an overview:
Landscape Design, 101
First there was the whole design phase where I spent a few weeks deciding what I wanted the 'new' yard to look like. That included discussing semantics with my dad like where to place the conduit pipes to run the electrical and water lines through for the sprinkler system and lights in the yard (because what's the point of redoing your yard if you're not going to install an automatic sprinkler system while you're at it?) All of these were going to be laid down under the pavers, so I had to map them out on my plans to make sure they were included in the bids.
Then there's drain placement so the hardscape and landscape drain properly. Then there's walkway width (because of course, you don't want them too wide or too narrow). Naturally that segues into the overall flow of the hardscape and landscape placement and their functionality, not to mention the Ever Present Question, "and just how much is all of this going to cost me?"
After we got all of those details squared away I started shopping my design to various paver companies to get the answer to said Ever Present Question. I looked at paver colors, patterns, sizes, and shapes and settled on what I thought would go best with the house. I got quotes that were in line with how much I thought it'd cost, and I got quotes that made me scratch my head and go, "do they think I'm a schmuck or something?" After going over the numbers and driving around to see the workmanship from their reference lists (HIGHLY recommended if you're ever hiring a contractor of any sort... a reputable one will have a reference list they will give out gladly, and should frankly volunteer), I settled on the outfit who had the best quality of workmanship and ironically, was the lowest bid as well. Funny enough, picking an outfit was (almost) the easiest part of the process...
After the designs were done I started researching what all I'd need to get done before they ripped out my concrete. Turns out, quite a bit. I had several trees in the yard I wanted removed (well, I wanted everything removed actually,) so I contacted local arbor specialists to get quotes from that group of people. Since the plants all needed to be removed before the hardscape project started, finding a yard demo company was a pressing matter. On top of that, since they'd be digging to remove the plants, I needed Dig Alert to notify all the utility companies (gas, electric, cable, water, telephone) so they could come out and mark where all their lines and mains were so no one would accidently rupture the gas line and blow up the neighborhood. Minor detail. After giving all of them my laundry list (removal of 13 trees, plants, shrubs, bushes, grass, with rototilling and grinding out the stumps of all above mentioned trees) and receiving quotes, I had my crew chosen and a demo date set.
And still, we're not done. Since the side yard was getting redone as well, I needed my air conditioner moved so they could break up the concrete beneath it and put pavers down so it would look all nice and pretty when they were done. Did you know it costs $100 just to have an AC guy come disconnect your AC and move it a few feet to the backyard? Yea, neither did I (and apparently that's a great deal too!) Oh, and if you want it moved back and reconnected, that will be an additional $250. Of course when they removed the AC they found it had been placed right in front of the dryer vent (genius!), so the whole backside was covered in dryer lint, which naturally makes it less efficient. (They also found a black widow spider living in there, which makes me glad I wasn't home for that particular project. Not a fan of arachnids). Knowing this for when we reconnect it, we can move it further down the wall and prevent that from being an issue in the future. But moving it farther down will cost an extra $50 since we'll need longer wires and lines to move it away from its current outlets.
This is the point where you stop caring about an extra $50 because in the grand scheme of this project, it's become a drop in the bucket.
Oh, and none of this even takes into consideration the fact that I have an HOA in my neighborhood, and they have to approve my plans before anyone is allowed to come destroy my yard. Luckily that's been the easiest part of this whole project. I received a 'unanimous' approval less than 24 hours after emailing them my plans. Guess my neighbors hate my yard as much as I do. :P
So in the last four days my entire yard has been dug up and rototilled, my AC has been moved, and the outlines of my hardscape have been spray painted onto the yard so I can see what my paper plans look like in a life size scale. As you can imagine, the excitement is really starting to set in. More than anything I feel so incredibly fortunate that my parents live so close, and that my dad is retired and can act as project manager while I'm at work during the week. Him being available like this is really what even makes this whole thing possible.
What will make all of this worth it of course will be having a beautiful new yard to enjoy.
That and the look on D's face when he comes home and doesn't recognize his own house (LOL!!)
Sunday, September 12, 2010
One Year
Today's the day. One year ago today I married D (and the Marine Corps for that matter). My how time flies when you're insanely busy.
I actually got to talk to D yesterday morning which was a very happy surprise. We hadn't spoken on the phone since he arrived in Japan over two weeks ago, so hearing his voice was a great way to start the weekend. He hasn't had Internet in his room since he got there, so there's no way to email, IM, or skype. I really miss being able to talk to him on a regular basis, but its amazing how something as simple as an hour long phone call can make you feel so much better. Our lack of communication since he got there has been making me more and more anxious. I feel like there's so much going on that I want/need to talk to him about, and yet I can't.
Unfortunately he was calling because he'd had a particularly bad day and really needed to talk to me, but I was glad that I heard the phone ring and woke up so I could take his call. It also made me glad that when he had a bad day, the one person he wanted to talk to about it was me. You have to understand, my husband is not a complainer. He's a Marine. He compartmentalizes things that bother/upset him because that's what he was trained to do. They can't allow anything to distract them because depending on where they are and what they're doing, that could put people's lives at risk. Do I wish he was able to talk about what's on his mind more than he does? Absolutely. But I understand why he doesn't, and I just hope someday when he's no longer active duty he can learn to process things as they happen rather than store them away to be forgotten.
We were also able to talk about the tentative plans for the yard which is something I've been itching to do. It's been weird meeting with designers and getting estimates and mapping things out without him here to bounce ideas off of, get immediate input on. I'm really excited about it all though, the yard is going to look so great when it's done! I'm meeting with another outfit this week and after I get numbers back from them I should be able to make a decision about who to hire. I'm still having moments where I sit back and say, "holy cow, we own a house."
Other than adjusting to D being gone life is starting to take it's familiar "on my own schedule" shape. I feel perpetually tired, and yet I can't seem to get to bed before 12m or 1a. I'll just start puttering around the house doing little things that need to get done and before I know it, it's waaaaaaay past my bedtime. If D were home we'd be in bed by 1030p every night. He's a routine guy like that.
For our one year anniversary gift (to ourselves) I got us an anniversary journal. It's a gorgeous hand bound book with entries for us to write about each anniversary - how we celebrated, memorable moments from the year, and a place for us to share our thoughts on the last year with one another. I figured since we'd be spending the next few years apart it'd be a good way to document the time we did get to spend together, and also a great thing to be able to look back on further down the road.
I don't know what the next few years are going to be like, but I know this first year was our best yet: it's the longest amount of uninterrupted time we've spent together since we met, and I can't think of a better way to spend your first year of marriage.
Happy Anniversary D, I love you.
I actually got to talk to D yesterday morning which was a very happy surprise. We hadn't spoken on the phone since he arrived in Japan over two weeks ago, so hearing his voice was a great way to start the weekend. He hasn't had Internet in his room since he got there, so there's no way to email, IM, or skype. I really miss being able to talk to him on a regular basis, but its amazing how something as simple as an hour long phone call can make you feel so much better. Our lack of communication since he got there has been making me more and more anxious. I feel like there's so much going on that I want/need to talk to him about, and yet I can't.
Unfortunately he was calling because he'd had a particularly bad day and really needed to talk to me, but I was glad that I heard the phone ring and woke up so I could take his call. It also made me glad that when he had a bad day, the one person he wanted to talk to about it was me. You have to understand, my husband is not a complainer. He's a Marine. He compartmentalizes things that bother/upset him because that's what he was trained to do. They can't allow anything to distract them because depending on where they are and what they're doing, that could put people's lives at risk. Do I wish he was able to talk about what's on his mind more than he does? Absolutely. But I understand why he doesn't, and I just hope someday when he's no longer active duty he can learn to process things as they happen rather than store them away to be forgotten.
We were also able to talk about the tentative plans for the yard which is something I've been itching to do. It's been weird meeting with designers and getting estimates and mapping things out without him here to bounce ideas off of, get immediate input on. I'm really excited about it all though, the yard is going to look so great when it's done! I'm meeting with another outfit this week and after I get numbers back from them I should be able to make a decision about who to hire. I'm still having moments where I sit back and say, "holy cow, we own a house."
Other than adjusting to D being gone life is starting to take it's familiar "on my own schedule" shape. I feel perpetually tired, and yet I can't seem to get to bed before 12m or 1a. I'll just start puttering around the house doing little things that need to get done and before I know it, it's waaaaaaay past my bedtime. If D were home we'd be in bed by 1030p every night. He's a routine guy like that.
For our one year anniversary gift (to ourselves) I got us an anniversary journal. It's a gorgeous hand bound book with entries for us to write about each anniversary - how we celebrated, memorable moments from the year, and a place for us to share our thoughts on the last year with one another. I figured since we'd be spending the next few years apart it'd be a good way to document the time we did get to spend together, and also a great thing to be able to look back on further down the road.
I don't know what the next few years are going to be like, but I know this first year was our best yet: it's the longest amount of uninterrupted time we've spent together since we met, and I can't think of a better way to spend your first year of marriage.
Happy Anniversary D, I love you.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Big Girls Don't Cry
The day came and went, and now he's gone.
As I sat in the car and watched him roll his bags into the terminal I found myself dry eyed. I felt none of the things you're supposed to feel as you're watching your husband walk away, knowing it will be months before you'll see him again. I felt numb.
When we'd said our goodbye's at the curb the first thing he said was, "I love you." I don't think he knows how much that meant to me, because I'm always the one to say it first. It's not that I love him more or he loves me less, it's just how we are. His deviation from protocol told me how much he didn't want to leave without him having to say it. It was probably the best going away present he could have given me.
And still, I didn't cry.
I drove from the airport to work. I needed to feel productive, and it was nice to get back to "the usual" again after having been out for a week. It helped take my mind off of the empty house that would be waiting for me when I got home that night. I had plans to meet up with some girlfriends at the street fair in Downtown that night after work for dinner, which turned out to be a lot of fun. If there's anyone who could understand how I felt it was military wives, so hanging out with them right after D left was perfect. By the time I got home I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. I had no trouble falling asleep.
And yet, staying asleep seemed to be an issue.
I kept waking up, very aware that I was alone in our room. In our house. I'd never spent the night alone in the house since we moved so it was particularly strange. It felt entirely too empty and quiet without him there, without the rhythm of his breathing to lull me to sleep. I checked the clock every time I woke up. Trying to see if it was close to when D was supposed to arrive in Okinawa. He'd told me he'd call when he got there, and I couldn't help but wonder if that's what was preventing me from sleeping through the night.
It was my alarm this morning that signaled the end to that vicious cycle. As much as I didn't want to get up I was tired of sleeping in limbo. It was 6:15am and I still hadn't heard from him. I put on my glasses and my robe, and just in case I slipped my phone in my robe pocket. I went downstairs and the cat immediately ran to the foot of the stairs to greet me. I can always count on him to make me feel loved. As we had our morning 'love fest' my phone started ringing, and I couldn't help but smile. I knew it was him without even having to look at it.
He sounded good considering he'd spent a large amount of time on a plane and was now 16 hours ahead from where he'd been less than 24 hours ago. He'd made it safe and sound and was only one bag short from when he'd left, but other than that everything was fine. He was exhausted (understandably) so the conversation was short, but it was so good to hear his voice. He told me to "have fun at work" and I told him, "I'll try".
At least his sense of humor didn't get misplaced with his luggage. :P
As I sat in the car and watched him roll his bags into the terminal I found myself dry eyed. I felt none of the things you're supposed to feel as you're watching your husband walk away, knowing it will be months before you'll see him again. I felt numb.
When we'd said our goodbye's at the curb the first thing he said was, "I love you." I don't think he knows how much that meant to me, because I'm always the one to say it first. It's not that I love him more or he loves me less, it's just how we are. His deviation from protocol told me how much he didn't want to leave without him having to say it. It was probably the best going away present he could have given me.
And still, I didn't cry.
I drove from the airport to work. I needed to feel productive, and it was nice to get back to "the usual" again after having been out for a week. It helped take my mind off of the empty house that would be waiting for me when I got home that night. I had plans to meet up with some girlfriends at the street fair in Downtown that night after work for dinner, which turned out to be a lot of fun. If there's anyone who could understand how I felt it was military wives, so hanging out with them right after D left was perfect. By the time I got home I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. I had no trouble falling asleep.
And yet, staying asleep seemed to be an issue.
I kept waking up, very aware that I was alone in our room. In our house. I'd never spent the night alone in the house since we moved so it was particularly strange. It felt entirely too empty and quiet without him there, without the rhythm of his breathing to lull me to sleep. I checked the clock every time I woke up. Trying to see if it was close to when D was supposed to arrive in Okinawa. He'd told me he'd call when he got there, and I couldn't help but wonder if that's what was preventing me from sleeping through the night.
It was my alarm this morning that signaled the end to that vicious cycle. As much as I didn't want to get up I was tired of sleeping in limbo. It was 6:15am and I still hadn't heard from him. I put on my glasses and my robe, and just in case I slipped my phone in my robe pocket. I went downstairs and the cat immediately ran to the foot of the stairs to greet me. I can always count on him to make me feel loved. As we had our morning 'love fest' my phone started ringing, and I couldn't help but smile. I knew it was him without even having to look at it.
He sounded good considering he'd spent a large amount of time on a plane and was now 16 hours ahead from where he'd been less than 24 hours ago. He'd made it safe and sound and was only one bag short from when he'd left, but other than that everything was fine. He was exhausted (understandably) so the conversation was short, but it was so good to hear his voice. He told me to "have fun at work" and I told him, "I'll try".
At least his sense of humor didn't get misplaced with his luggage. :P
Saturday, August 7, 2010
S, A, T-U-R, D-A-Y, hey!
A hot cup of white tea, Pandora streaming on the bluray, lounging in my bathrobe on the new sectional on a peaceful Saturday morning.
All with the new house completely to myself (for the entire day!)
If this isn't a great start to the weekend, I don't know what is.
Today marks the first "Me!" day I've had since we moved, and while it would seem crazy to have a "Me!" day right before hubs is about to move out of the country, these are the things that help make my life feel normal.
All with the new house completely to myself (for the entire day!)
If this isn't a great start to the weekend, I don't know what is.
Today marks the first "Me!" day I've had since we moved, and while it would seem crazy to have a "Me!" day right before hubs is about to move out of the country, these are the things that help make my life feel normal.
Very rarely while D’s home do I get a free day to myself on the weekend to just do whatever I want on my own. The usual monotony of errand running, household chores, grocery shopping and social gatherings are a typical weekend schedule for us (not that we don’t like the social gathering parts, we just get to a point after a while where we want to spend a Saturday night at home doing nothing in particular).
D’s off on a motorcycle ride with the club today to the Ronald Regan Library so he’ll be gone pretty much all day. He had to leave fairly early to meet the guys so I decided to hang out in bed with the cat a little longer before getting up to go to yoga. Except when my alarm went off, I wasn’t read to get up yet. Its Saturday I thought. One of two days you even have the possibility of sleeping in! You have the entire day to squeeze a workout in. Why not just sleep until you wake-up naturally and feel rested? How can I argue with that logic? :P
The next time I opened my eyes, it was just after 9am. There was a nice breeze coming in my bedroom window and the cat was napping at the foot of the bed (where he’d surprisingly spent most of the night). I could hear our neighbor’s roosters, peacocks and donkeys in the distance telling me it was definitely time to get up (oh yea, did I forget to mention? We moved to Green Acres and livestock is a part of my life’s soundtrack now). It’s definitely taken some getting used to, but at the same time it’s one of those crazy things that you don’t get in any old subdivision. I kind of like it.
The house transformation has been going great, but there’s still a lot to do. My mission today is to get a few loose ends finished off (empty some more boxes, find places for whatevers in said boxes, organize the upstairs bedrooms a little more…) I’m rather looking forward to having the house look really lived in rather than just moved into.
As for the rest of the day… If the sun ever decides to come out, I might even make a foray to the beach. Here’s hoping!
Monday, August 2, 2010
Ch-ch-ch-changes!
So much has happened since I last wrote, I hardly know where to begin.
My last post was full of unanswered questions and three months ago (I know, bad blogger…) My world has been shaken and stirred in so many directions during the last month that I feel like a snow globe. I’d been watching the weeks rolling past on the calendar, getting closer to our “we have to move NOW” date without any new developments on our pending home purchase. I’m truly surprised I don’t have an ulcer by now. We were both ridiculously anxious, and I could tell it was really starting to wear us down.
Obviously things didn’t end horribly, but I’ll give you the breakdown: Since my last post we’ve moved into our home (yay for not being homeless!!), attended my high school reunion, visited family in Chicago, saw the Cubs loose at Wrigley (all while hanging with JB and her new man! Had so much fun!!), signed what seems like a million papers (the upside being I’ve perfected my new signature), I entered my last year of my 20's, we've hosted several get together's for both family and friends, closed escrow, made-over several rooms, and now have three and a half weeks until D leaves for a two year duty station in Japan. Needless to say I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.
We’ve been going full force for the last few months straight and I can feel its effects. I’ve been sleeping like the dead and don’t feel rested unless I’ve gotten eight hours. Other than our week in Chicago I haven’t taken any time off before or after the move, and I think that has a lot to do with how I’m feeling. I look at everything we’ve done in the last month that we’ve lived here though and at least feel satisfied at all we’ve accomplished. It’s tangible, which always makes me feel good.
The cat has been a never ending source of entertainment since we got here. The move was not an enjoyable experience for him, unfortunately, and during our first night in the house he hid under the couch the whole time. We allowed him into our room on night two and he proceeded to pass out in the crook of my arm for the entire night. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that cat sleep that hard. He didn’t wake up to walk all over me once, which was a very pleasant surprise. Since then he’s warmed up to the new living situation though and now appears to be quite content (which in turn makes me very happy). We even upped the ante on the “I love my cat THIS much” meter and bought him (or us?) a CatGenie, but that deserves a post all to itself. With pictures. (more to come on that…)
Now that the dust has settled a bit we’re in that place where we sit back and go, “now what?” It still seems surreal to be a homeowner, let alone the fact that our one year wedding anniversary is right around the corner. One year! It feels like it could be a day. The months seem to have melted together, which is funny since this has been the longest period of time we’ve spent together since we met. Well, it’s not funny, that’s military life for you. It’s a good feeling to look at the person you promised to spend the rest of your life with (in front of God and your family at that,) and know that it was the best decision you ever made. That's what makes all of this bearable.
I know the next few weeks are going to be gone before I know it as well, so I’m doing my best to make the most out of them (i.e. doing things other than house projects). My biggest problem is I have a carryover list of things I want to do with D from the last few deployments that still haven’t been completed, so what the hell is my list going to look like with D living in Japan for the next two years?
Very, very long I’m guessing.
(25 more days – trying to make them count)
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Sixty Days... Then What?
Ever have one of those weeks that makes you step back and say, "is this really my life?" Only, not in a good way?
I'm a firm believe that God doesn't give you any more than you can handle, and like any good personal trainer, He pushes us farther than we thought we could possibly go. More than ever I think He must be preparing me for bigger things, because I have a feeling this is only the tip of the iceberg.
It was a normal enough week up until Wednesday night when I got the mail. I'd just gotten home from the gym and was on the phone with my brother (along with my parents, because speaker phone is the name of the game in my family,) and I saw an envelope from our rental agency. Mind you, we have a very hands off relationship with them (we pay our rent on time every month and everyone's happy,) so it gave me a funny feeling right off the bat. That envelope scared me, because something told me it wasn't good. With my family talking on the other end of the phone, I opened the envelope, unfolded the paper inside and read:
"THIRTY DAY NOTICE OF TERMINATION OF TENANCY"
I almost dropped the phone.
That's right. We are being evicted. Four days after D leaves the country for six weeks, we get an eviction notice in the mail. I was immediately overwhelmed with a wave of mixed emotions. It made me numb. We're trying to leave this stinking place and buy our own house, and now we're being kicked out before all of our ducks are in a row! I continued reading the form letter and saw that they were actually giving us 60 days, which made me feel better, but not by much. The reason listed for the eviction was "the owner is move back in to the property" (don't be me started on the grammar going on in that sentence...)
I read the letter to my family and tried to process what was happening. At that moment, the one thing I wanted was for D to be there for me to talk to, to have that voice of reason telling me it was going to be ok (my parents were telling me that, but I wanted to hear it from him too.) More than anything, I needed a hug. And I was home alone.
The next few days were long ones at work, so luckily that helped take my mind off what was going on at home. I emailed our realtor to let her know what was going on, as well as D. He was less than thrilled to say the least, but true to form he was in action mode and started brainstorming what our options were if we didn't close escrow before our 60 days was up. It made me feel so much better to get his feedback on the situation - just that extra affirmation that everything was, in fact, going to be alright.
So, my weekends will now consist of going through the entire house and starting to pack everything we won't need within the next 60 days, and making piles for D to go through when he gets back.
If anything will kick spring cleaning into high gear, it's an eviction notice.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Marriage is a Verb
"Marriage is not a noun; it's a verb. It isn't something you get. It's something you do. It's the way you love your partner every day." —Ann Landers
Ann, I couldn't agree more.
(if you guessed that I'm about to climb onto my Marriage soapbox, go give yourself a cookie...) ;-)
Marriage is especially a verb if you're married to the military (trust me, there's no escaping that fact when you're a Marine Corps mistress...) I've spent more time apart from D than I have with him in the four years we've been together, and while that may sound hellish to most, it's the only life we know. We're both fiercely independent people (jury's still out if that's a bad thing or not,) and having the space that we get is just something we work with. I like to think it makes the time we do have together that much more special, but it's not like I'll forego a girls night out just because he's home.
I think the biggest key here though is that marriage is an action word. We constantly make the effort to be present every day for each other, to be supportive and caring and loving, both in person and when we're apart. Just because my husband's job dictates our geography and how much he's home doesn't mean it has to dictate our relationship. That's something we control. I chose this life when I chose him. I knew what I was getting into. Is it fun? It has its moments, just like everything else (the uniforms are definitely an added bonus,) but at the end of the day I'm married to my best friend and I'd choose that over an easy/cushy life any time.
Given that I'm still a newbie to "The Club" I don't feel that I'm in any position to really give marriage advice, but what I can say is this: cherish every moment you have with your partner, because there are those of us who don't have the luxury of having our significant other home every night. I'll miss D when he's off in Bahrain for six weeks, but you'd better believe I'm going to take full advantage of this time apart to remind myself of why my life is so much better with him in it, and how lucky I am to be his wife.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Enlightenment, or Just Lightheadedness?
There are moments in our lives when we take a step back and say, "What am I doing with my life?" I found myself asking such a question in a 105 degree room with 40% humidity while in the garurasana pose on Saturday morning, and at that moment in time I was drawing a blank. Of course, the heat will do that to you.
It all started about four weeks ago when I was looking at my calendar, and realized in five short months my husband was leaving for Japan and I'd be embarking on my next adventure in Marine Corps Widowhood. I'd been taking stock of my life and the upcoming changes that I'd be facing before the year is out and I realized I wanted more of a balance: of the physical, mental and spiritual to help me get through it.
In Jainism, yoga refers to the sum of mental, verbal and physical disciplines (what a coincidence, just what I'm looking for!) so I thought I'd investigate and see what my options were. There are different types of yoga, but the one that interested me the most is Bikram. Set in a 104 degree room with 40% humidity, Bikram is a series of 26 poses each performed two times and held for a certain period of time. Needless, to say, it's unlike anything I've ever done before. I was worried going into my first class because the major extent of my yoga experience came from my Wii Fit (no, seriously,) and from what I'd heard and read Bikram was not for the faint of heart. I decided though that no matter what anything or anyone said I could do it. I'd already proven to myself that I could run 26.2 miles consecutively, and that I could live a full an happy life even with D gone for seven months at a time, so what's a hot room full of really bendy people got going on that I can't handle?
It all started about four weeks ago when I was looking at my calendar, and realized in five short months my husband was leaving for Japan and I'd be embarking on my next adventure in Marine Corps Widowhood. I'd been taking stock of my life and the upcoming changes that I'd be facing before the year is out and I realized I wanted more of a balance: of the physical, mental and spiritual to help me get through it.
In Jainism, yoga refers to the sum of mental, verbal and physical disciplines (what a coincidence, just what I'm looking for!) so I thought I'd investigate and see what my options were. There are different types of yoga, but the one that interested me the most is Bikram. Set in a 104 degree room with 40% humidity, Bikram is a series of 26 poses each performed two times and held for a certain period of time. Needless, to say, it's unlike anything I've ever done before. I was worried going into my first class because the major extent of my yoga experience came from my Wii Fit (no, seriously,) and from what I'd heard and read Bikram was not for the faint of heart. I decided though that no matter what anything or anyone said I could do it. I'd already proven to myself that I could run 26.2 miles consecutively, and that I could live a full an happy life even with D gone for seven months at a time, so what's a hot room full of really bendy people got going on that I can't handle?
I was relieved to see when I got there that there were people of all ages in the class, and I wasn't the only first timer. The heat was a little uncomfortable at first, but after five minutes or so my body adjusted and I wasn't thinking about the temperature. The class was an hour and half, so I knew I'd be in trouble if I was focusing on the heat from the get go. We started out with standing poses and I was feeling pretty good about how I was doing, and then the heater kicked on.
Oiy.
I don't think I've sweat that much in my life. I was having a hard time holding poses because my limbs were so slick with sweat I had no traction to keep them in place. Talk about the grossest feeing in the world!! I soldiered on though, and before I knew it the class was over. I'd survived! I felt this enormous sense of accomplishment for what I'd just done, but at the same I felt a physical exhaustion that only running has been able to achieve thus far. All of that was quickly replaced though by my overwhelming desire to take a shower.
Oiy.
I don't think I've sweat that much in my life. I was having a hard time holding poses because my limbs were so slick with sweat I had no traction to keep them in place. Talk about the grossest feeing in the world!! I soldiered on though, and before I knew it the class was over. I'd survived! I felt this enormous sense of accomplishment for what I'd just done, but at the same I felt a physical exhaustion that only running has been able to achieve thus far. All of that was quickly replaced though by my overwhelming desire to take a shower.
Looking back I probably didn't need to psych myself up so much, but it got my rear in gear so I figured it wasn't all bad. I've been going to Bikram for three weeks now and have proven that yes, I can do just about anything I put my mind to, but not everything is as it seems. Bikram challenges me physically and yet it's shown me I'm capable of things I never thought I could do. I was able to complete my first class without having to sit out once (which made me feel all the more invigorated when class was done,) and some of the poses I did were ones I'd never been able to do at home. Don't get me wrong, this is by far not the easiest thing I've ever done, but when all was said and done I felt like I could do anything, and that alone is worth an hour and a half of sweating it out every weekend.
I'm hoping that as the weeks go by and my yoga improves it will lend itself to other parts of my life. My constant desire to better myself is something that's always driven me, and realizing new potential within me will only help push me to find other areas I once deemed as weak to improve upon. Of course, it'd be nice to gain some flexibility along the way.
Until then, Namaste!
Thursday, April 15, 2010
I am Strong, I am Invincible, I am...
Exhausted.
No, this has nothing to do with the crazy schedule I keep (spending 1.5 - 2 hours in the car every day commuting to work would make may people crazy, but luckily I love my car and have five years of LA traffic experience under my belt, so I'm thankful that my 30 miles only takes 45-60 minutes...)
This is the mental exhaustion before the storm. I can recognize it now because I've been through it a few times - two seven month deployments will do that to you. No matter how ready I get for D to leave for an extended period of time, I always get anxious before he goes. I can't help it. I get caught up in all the things I want to get done before he leaves. This trip is only for about six weeks so it's nothing major (ha!), but it comes at a rather inopportune time.
For example: the fact that we could potentially go into escrow and move while he's gone. Kind of a big deal, no? This is the first "big decision" thing we've done together since getting married and it kills me a little inside to think that he might miss out on that moment. Not to mention what a cliché it would be for the lone military wife to be signing all those papers with her trusty POA (power of attorney) beside her on the table instead of her husband. (Never mind that our offer was accepted over a month ago on the property, and under normal circumstances we'd have been in escrow for a while now, but as JB would say, "that's a whole 'nother Oprah...") Short sale? There's nothing short about it.
I'm trying to focus on the positive though, like six weeks of unadulterated "Me!" time I have to look forward to. My weekends are already filling up and I'm looking forward to some quality girl time with friends I haven't seen in a while. I can hardly believe that April's already half way over, and that my 10 year High School reunion is just a mere two months away.
Oiy.
In other strength testing news, the washing machine is on strike. Sadly, the strike went into effect sometime between the wash and rinse cycle, and I spent a better part of last night 'fishing' for my gym clothes and underwear. This was followed by a 'rinse' cycle in a bath tub whose stopper is broken, all while in my underwear so as not to soak my only dry pair of pajamas.
Lovely.
Of course, this now moves the washer to the top of my 'to do/fix before D leaves' list, but I'm sure that doesn't surprise anyone.
Monday, March 15, 2010
daylight spending
One of the perks of being a military wife? Lots and lots of "me" time. One of the downsides to being a military wife? Lots and lots of “me” time... :P
D's in the field for a week, so that means the usual schedule is out the window and we're on me time (woo hoo!) Friday was our six month anniversary, and while we didn't celebrate per se it did mark a milestone in our relationship: it's the longest period of uninterrupted time that we've ever spent together (crazy, right?) These work-ups are going to become more frequent as we get into the summer, so I’ll have more than my share of me time before the year is up.
Today was the first weekday since the time change, and coming home while it was still light out was particularly nice. On the agenda this week: running after work (in Torrey Pines because it won't be dark!), laundry, cleaning, errands, and a little closet cleaning if I can get around to it.
Bring on the week!! I’m ready for ya!
Friday, March 12, 2010
cheese & crackers
Goat cheese to be precise.
It's after 7p on Friday night, and I'm sitting on the couch with the cat.
Eating cheese and crackers.
Wondering when my husband is going to get home... I'm making my homemade vegetable soup for dinner tonight (yum!) but don't want to start anything until he's here so he can enjoy the process with me.
(What? I like to have someone to talk to while I cook...)
Gotta love life in the fast lane: a home cooked meal in, vegging on the couch in our sweats with Netflix. (at least, that’s the plan once hubs gets home…) ;)
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