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.

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:

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.

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?

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.

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

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)

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?

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.

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!