An Overdramatic Freakout Over an Imaginary Problem

I know it's been a long time since I've posted. It's funny: In high school, I wrote about EVERYTHING. One summer I penned an entire book full of letters to Alex while we were apart, complete with pictures, applicable quotes and song lyrics, and at least 2-3 notes per day about every insignificant detail of my life without him. Now that I'm an adult, I find myself purposefully not writing in times of greatest stress. I put my head down and push through, as if being as busy as possible and keeping my head in the sand will get me through it. It's almost the same sensation as swimming the length of a swimming pool without coming up for air... the harder it gets, the more my desperation to push through without stopping, without thinking, without coming up for air. So I'm trying to get used to this whole regular posting thing, and it's more complicated juggling emails to Alex and my personal journal as well. Usually by the time I send something off to my husband, I'm all worn out. But today has been a sick day for me, and I've spent most of my day watching movies and feeling sorry for myself for being sick on my day off. And of course, on days when I'm forced to take it slow and watch romantic comedies and tear-jearking dramas all day, I end up thinking about the stuff that I'm usually running hard to avoid.

Today my focus fell on something my mom said to me while I was home. "I hate to see you so dependent on another person to be happy," she told me as I sobbed over some facet of life without my husband.

Now if you don't know my mother, sharing this risks making her sound callous, which she is absolutely not. She doesn't always know the perfect thing to say: she's a little blunt and black and white sometimes. But she loves me fiercely, and she has always been very much concerned that I be a well-rounded, happy person. As I get older, I understand that what often sounds like criticism from her is actually driven from a desperate desire to protect me and guide me toward health and happiness. She has ever only wanted the best for me, and to help me avoid the heartaches she knows are out there. And of course, with our family history being what it is, I'm sure she worries about how my relationship with my husband might be effected by the tragic implosion of her own marriage. She said this because she firmly -- and I think rightly -- believes that if you cannot be happy by yourself, you cannot be truly happy with someone else.

But I can't help feeling that the point isn't as applicable when your spouse is gone for huge chunks of your life, like in the military. (Now, bear with me, because I really don't mean for this to be a Navy sob-story. There's a larger point to this, and I'll get to it soon.) Your spouse should be your best friend. You plan your lives together, make your decisions together, enjoy the little quirks of being around each other, and as you grow together they become your other half. Alex has always been the first person I turn to when I have something to share, something to discuss, something to laugh about, or a shoulder to cry on. He's the very first person I want to talk to and share everything in my life with. And when that person, the one you've centered your whole routine and habits and emotional stability around is suddenly removed, you grieve. It's natural. In a normal circumstance, that kind of sudden and total absence might be a break up, or a death, and it would cause tremendous grief that you would have to work through to heal. But the problem with the military is that even though you know that person is going to come home again when you say goodbye and the ship pulls out, it feels the same. You still have to deal with that huge gaping hole in your life where that person used to be. It feels like they've died. You have a bad day or something terrible happens, and your first response is that you want to talk to your spouse. But you can't. You can't call them. You can email, but you probably won't get anything back for days... you have the same thought and immediate let-down as if that person were entirely gone from your life. They can't provide the support and everyday role a spouse is meant to.

And yet, at the same time, they aren't entirely gone. If someone you loved died, the natural process of grief ends in eventual acceptance and healing. You never forget someone you loved, but you find ways to fill the hole they left behind, and carry their memory into your new life without them. You learn to let them go... but obviously, not when they're going to come back. When you're faced with being apart for so long, with so little contact, you've ended up in a horrible catch-22. There's a huge, aching void where they used to be. Your confidant, your partner, and your soul mate has been ripped out of your life... but you can't fill their place. You have to hold it open and keep that space vacant for them so it's waiting when they get back. The whole emotional process itself is brutally painful. I find myself bouncing back and forth: bad days, I miss him so much I want to curl up on the couch huddled in a ball, holding myself together because I feel like there's a physical hole in my chest. And then there are the good days: the ones that I'm so busy and so happy that when I realize that I didn't miss him all day, I feel horrifically guilty. Not to mention the ever-looming battle to jealously guard his place against inappropriate emotional replacements. It's exhausting, finding the right balance between holding his place open and not living my life on hold, in mourning, waiting for the day he can step back into his role. And I'm terrified that I'm not doing it right.

On the bad days, I feel pathetic. I hate being so "dependent," as my mom called it, on Alex to be a stable human being. I feel like it's sad, that my situation isn't nearly as bad as it could be, and here I am crying like a kid who misses its blanket. He's not dead. His job isn't even that dangerous, comparatively speaking, and it's not like we NEVER get to talk. I get angry with myself, and wonder how I could possibly be doing this marriage thing right if I'm such a mess when he's gone for just a month. Maybe I am clingy and pathetic and have no life of my own. For that reason I'm going to be looking for some good volunteer opportunities while he's gone for deployment, and to go back to school in the fall. I need some purpose and direction to make me a stronger person, to feel more balanced and less like Alex is my whole reason for existing. I'm pretty sure that's not healthy. And I'm working on it... like I said, those are the bad days, when the demons all come out and I'm feeling much worse about myself than I deserve. Most days I give myself more credit. I don't think I'm COMPLETELY co-dependent.

But the good days have their low points too. I struggle a LOT with guilt. I feel guilty when things are good, and I find myself not feeling his absence so keenly. I know that he would want me to be happy, and would hate the idea of me being a mess all the time while he's away. But I'm worried that somehow I'm dishonoring him if I don't miss him terribly. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel, to be honest. I know many people who look down on couples who cling desperately to each other, and believe that space and individuality are absolutely necessary to keep a relationship healthy and happy. But I don't know that many people who feel that way who are also in loving, happy, committed relationships that have stood the test of time. Actually, I can count on one hand the number of marriages I'm close to that I admire. That terrifies me. How am I supposed to be a good wife when I don't know how I'm supposed to feel when my husband is gone? Am I supposed to be strong, and happy, and ok, while still being the wife he deserves? Am I denying my husband his due by NOT missing him? Or am I pathetic when I'm a mess, and pitiable that I can't handle life without a man to turn to?

If I'm being honest, most days are the days I miss him, and I'm just going going going going trying not to think about it. And I don't know if that's right or not. But that's the reality of it. And even when he's here, I struggle every day trying to figure out if what I'm feeling and how I'm acting is "right." I want so desperately to get it right. I want to give Alex everything he deserves, because he's an amazing person. And he's such a wonderful husband. Our last phone conversation he talked all about his plans for our financial future with such enthusiasm, all because he's trying to provide for me. He had found the book I'd recently read about finances, then gone and worked out a whole plan based on things I'd said to him in passing and what he'd read on my recommendation. The longer we're together, the more I realize that he is naturally an amazing and loving provider, and I want to be an equally amazing wife. But I feel like I'm floundering, because I have such a fuzzy idea of what things are supposed to be.

Like I said: I think the time is right for me to find a steady volunteer job in ATL to keep me balanced while Alex is gone. I'll have close girl friends and family to help hold Alex's place until he's back. And most days, if I keep busy and keep in touch with him as best I can, will be good days that will go by quickly. When things are bad, I find myself searching for that terrifying, unknown, and unforeseeable THING that will ruin my marriage; because so many marriages end, all around I see heartache, and obviously people don't get married when they can put a finger on the problem that will eventually cause divorce... But then again I realize that we AREN'T most people. We've survived so many difficulties, and me just second-guessing myself and searching for something that isn't there doesn't help either of us. I don't know if I sound crazy or over-analytical, but I wonder if I'm the only one who struggles like this, over seemingly nothing. Maybe I'm just weird. Anyway, I'm sure a good night's sleep will make everything look better in the morning. It always does.