If today I don't see your face...

 "I love you more than I did before,

And if today I don't see your face,

 Nothing's changed, 

No one could take your place.

 It gets harder every day.

Say you love me more than you did before,

And I'm sorry that it's this way.

But I'm coming home, I'll be coming home,

And if you ask me,

I will stay."

Alex is in port!!!! These weeks are SO crazy for me... my emotions are everywhere. I feel like a super ball thrown against a wall in a small room. I'm ecstatic I get to see his face and talk longer than usual. I'm anxious and nervous waiting for him to get in touch. I'm filled with longing wishing I could reach through the screen to touch him, and I'm frustrated that I can't ever think of the right things to say and I end up just staring like an idiot. And half the time I'm elated buy the frequent talks and the sight of him, and the other half of the time I'm crushed. Seeing him keenly reminds me of how lonely I am and how much I miss him. I lose it after hanging up, and I struggle sometimes even to hold it together while we're talking. It's so frustrating to be getting emotional whiplash, all the while the very fleeting time that he's going to be in port is ticking away. I wish I could just appreciate it without all the chaos in my heart. Yesterday, I was over the moon thinking about getting all day on Thursday to talk to him while he has overnight leave. And tonight, I have this awful sinking realization that I'm just going to have the one day, and I'm going to be looking at him on a tiny screen... And all I want is for him to be here. Or me there. I want to touch him. So instead of enjoying my time, I'm afraid I'll be fighting not to completely break down over the horrific hole in my heart that seeing him is going to open wide up again. So on top of everything else, I'm furious with myself for having a little tiny part of me that looks forward to that time with dread. I should not dread talking to my husband. But a part of me does. And it SUCKS.

Nights like tonight make me feel like I was NOT cut out for this. I think of how much time is left before I get to hold him, and I feel dizzy. I want to curl up into a ball and refuse to face the world until he comes home. It reminds of the ignorant people who say, "I don't know how you do it! I know I couldn't." I want to scream at them, "I don't have a choice!" I am madly in love with my husband, and this is the life that gives us the means to be married and have a good life. Every day that he's away, I have two choices: I can collapse in despair, and give up on living, or I can get up, get dressed, and face the day with as much courage as I can, putting one foot in front of the other no matter how bad it hurts. I'm not some superwoman, that I can just wave goodbye to the love of my life, my other half, and live happily ever after until the ship comes back. And it's not as if he's gone for a few months and it gets just too hard, and I can say, "Oh, I didn't realize how hard this would be. I can't do this..." and leave him. How does it happen that you can love someone until they aren't there for too long, and then you just aren't cut out for long distance? Is that what people imagine when they say they couldn't do it? Really? How selfish and shallow. Maybe there are women out there who are made for this sort of thing, who don't need their husband present for their marriage to be fulfilling and meaningful and completely satisfying. I'm not one of them. I can say, without a shadow of a doubt, I am NOT cut out for this life: I do not thrive while he is away. That doesn't mean I can't do it. That doesn't mean I'm not being a good wife, and it doesn't mean that I'm weak. I don't even know how I measure up on the scale of how well I'm coping with this whole deployment thing. But I'm doing my best, and that's all I can do. All I can do tonight is cry, and hope that I can get it all out so that Alex doesn't see it tomorrow. I want to be happy to see him and enjoy our time instead of ruining it with tears and misery that neither of us can fix. But it's hard. Oh, this is so hard. It's the cruelest thing, that his absence leaves me desperate for comfort that only he can give. This ache just can't be filled with the love of family or friends... I need his arms, and I can't have them. It's devastating.

Tomorrow is a new day. One foot in front of the other. No matter how awful this all gets, the days are still going to go by. They don't go faster or slower, even if it may feel that way. And he's coming home. Every day that goes by, even the absolutely horrific ones that I don't have the strength to face, is one more day closer to him being home again. So I just have to keep breathing until then. I can keep breathing. In the end it's always that simple, really. I just have to keep breathing.