Whenever I'm absent from my blog, it's usually for at least one of three reasons:
- I'm enjoying a break from the computer (after all, I do have to sit and stare at one all day for work.).
- I'm really busy.
- I don't have anything I want to share because it's either (a) not much, or (b) not positive.
Everything is fine, but my absence over the last couple weeks has been due to all of the above at different times.
K arrived back home a little after 5 p.m. on Monday, January 5. (I'll write a post with pictures about the homecoming soon.) After the welcome-home ceremony, we headed to a nearby town that had a bit more to offer than where K is stationed, and we picked up a pizza before checking in to the hotel. K was exhausted from traveling, so he was asleep before 9:30.
Since K didn't have to go back to work until Thursday, I took off the next two days as well. On Tuesday, we didn't do much. We didn't venture out of our hotel room until we decided to get Italian food for dinner. It was wonderful to have so much "just us" time.
On Wednesday, we got out to do a little shopping and exploring around the area we were staying. That took only a couple hours, so we went to the movies to see
Yes Man (such a cute movie!).
Thursday morning, we got up early and headed back to post. K checked in at work, and then we headed to a spousal reintegration class we were required to take. We were one of the few couples in the class who'd been through a deployment together before. Actually, K was one of the few who had been deployed previously (this is his 3rd, not counting a year-long stint in Korea, since it's not a combat deployment).
In the class, they talked to us about what
not to do with the deployment money. They reminded us of the signs of post-traumatic stress disorder and told us to look for them on both ends -- even for the family members back home, since a deployment isn't just traumatic for the service members. They told us not to sneak up on the soldiers, since their initial reaction might be the one they'd have had over the previous 13 months, which is to protect themselves.
They talked to us about the honeymoon phase and about getting used to being around each other again. They mentioned the effects that the food here can have on the soldiers. (I laughed during that part, since K had tortured me and our hotel bathroom after our Italian dinner.)
We spent the rest of our three days together catching up on the food K had missed, spending time with friends, and updating facebook, since K decided to join while I was taking a nap on Saturday. (I'm pretty sure he's addicted.)
I was actually ready to head back to Dallas that Sunday. I had clung to my routine so much over the last 13-plus months that it was weird to just drop everything for a whole week. And even though things were great with K and me and we had seemed to pick up right where we left off, it had been almost a week of constant togetherness after about 13 months of separation. I didn't mind the idea of a break.
Monday at work, I realized how
not stressed I was. I didn't have to worry about my husband getting hit by rockets. I didn't have to worry about leaving my cell phone or who could call me while I'm stuck in a meeting. I didn't have to check my email 50 billion times a day to see if I'd heard from K (although I still pretty much did out of habit). I could call my husband or send him text messages if I wanted to. It was awesome.
The rest of the week, though, I felt different. I felt overwhelmed. I don't know what it was, but I was so anxious and stressed, and not knowing why I felt that way made me frustrated on top of it all.
K picked up on my stress over the phone. "It probably doesn't help that we still don't know when or where we're going next. I can understand why you're frustrated," he said.
That made sense, and I was sure that was part of it, even though there's nothing either of us can do about that right now. But I knew that wasn't all of it.
On nights while K was deployed, if I stayed in with nothing to do, I relaxed. Since I kept myself pretty busy, it was always nice for a break, and there was the added bonus that if K called, I wouldn't have to worry about it being bad timing or not being able to talk to him. But that first week in Dallas after K was back, it was lonely to be by myself. There was no potential unreturnable phone call, and there were no care packages to make or emails to write to tell K about my day. Now, I was just sitting home by myself while my husband is in the next state over.
I had also started feeling anxious about all I needed to do in Dallas but wouldn't be able to do during the week because of work, and I wouldn't have the weekend because I'd be in Louisiana again.
And there was plenty to do for Louisiana: I had K's laundry that I'd insisted on taking with me so he wouldn't have to use the laundromat. I still had quite a few of his things stashed around my apartment, so I had to find everything and gather it up to take with me for the weekend.
I spent an hour loading my car with everything on Friday morning. The more I loaded, the angrier I felt. I had spent the last 13 months doing things for K -- making care packages, baking cookies & muffins, sending wedding & baby gifts to his friends, taking care of bills, sending Christmas cards & regular email updates to his friends & family, reserving his apartment for when he got back ... I had done quite a bit for our wedding plans, including stuffing a ton of Save the Date magnets and sending them out. None of those were particularly exhausting work, but it all added up. I had been anxious for him to get home so I'd have help with these things.
Yet here I was -- in 20-degree, windy weather (I'm sure the wind chill was colder) -- trying to cram all his stuff into my two-door car
by myself. I was angry at K. After all, I'd be there to help him unload everything. I'd be there to help him unpack. I was doing all this work alone; he was always getting help.
I felt bitchy, and I didn't like it. I knew that
I had taken on all of these tasks. I had volunteered to do them, and I had wanted to do them. The only person I had to me angry at was myself.
The five-hour drive to Louisiana that night felt particularly long. K and a few of the other guys had gone to Houston, rented a U-Haul and bought out an electronics store, so K had all his loot waiting for him back at his new apartment. We started unloading it all as soon as I got there, and then we moved on to my car.
I was tired, and I really hadn't wanted to help, but I did. K was way too excited about his new TV (plus, the Direct TV guy was coming in the morning), so he set it up. I knew how long he'd been wanting it, so I just sat and talked to him while he hooked everything up.
By the time we crawled into bed, I just wanted to go to sleep. I was still frustrated at K, but I still knew that he wasn't to blame for any of it. I felt distant and disconnected from him, so I told him everything I'd been feeling over the last week. He was understanding and said it all sounded like normal, acceptable ways to feel. It's just been more of an adjustment than I realized it would be to have him back home. I hadn't expected that.
Then, K said, "I know it sounds crazy, but I actually kind of miss being in Iraq." He told me that even though he's glad to be home, there's an excitement about being there that you just don't get on post in Louisiana. He said he didn't know if it was the camaraderie of being with the guys all the time, or the fact that you never know what's going to happen -- not to mention the fact that what you're doing there (serving your country) is a pretty cool thing to begin with.
We learned that night that we're both adjusting to things going back to normal. It's hard to go about our lives the way they were before K left and just pretend that the last 13 months didn't happen. It's impossible to ignore that they did, and no one's asking us to, really. It's just different.
I felt so much better after our conversation. It was great to get all that off my chest, and it was so reassuring to know that talking about everything face to face had made it all OK.
