Silence (Part One)
As many of you know, the Man is heading out for deployment again this summer. I was feeling pretty good about this, to be honest. Not that I wasn't going to miss him, and not that I didn't expect more than a few road bumps, but I had a plan, and it was doable. If you'd asked me about it, I would've told you that the boys and I were going to totally rock this deployment.
Then around four weeks ago, something changed, and I didn't feel quite so sure of myself any more. I started having days when I wonder if I could do it on my own. I am snapping at the boys for the smallest infraction because I feel insecure in my future role as solo parent. I stopped writing because I am afraid to be weak right now (and writing, for me, is almost always about weakness). I want to be resilient.
On Wednesday, we found out that the Man's pre-deployment training had been bumped up a month. So he's leaving this Tuesday, as opposed to next month, and while that doesn't really change much (he'll be home July and August before he heads out for real), I had to do a quick rearrangement of my plans and expectations for the month. He's spent the last few days vacuum sealing gear and scalping the grass and trying to get one month of preparation squeezed into three work days.
And then today, I'm just being honest, I hit full blown panic. The kind where you find yourself crying in the laundry room but you're not actually doing laundry. The kind where you open the fridge and then realize you were supposed to be getting dinner out of the oven. The kind where you think you might possibly, just a little bit, potentially be going crazy (but please, God, don't let anyone notice).
With all of this, I'm not sure it will come as a surprise to say my routine has been thrown off a bit, and that's why this space has been a bit more silent than usual. That and the aforementioned fear. But as one of my dear friend's reminded me last week, it sounds like I'm getting a lot of writing material as we go through this. And I can't help but think: waste not, want not. So here I am, not wasting my stories.
There is a second part to this blog that I'm hoping to add tomorrow, but I want to close for now with this.
Military spouse, whoever you are, it doesn't matter if it's your first deployment or your fifth. There are always new struggles and the fear of the return of old ones. It is hard to send your husband halfway around the world (whether to a war zone or not). It is hard to do this thing called life on your own while always wondering if the other half of your heart is okay. It is hard to daily die to self knowing that God has called you to the life that you are in. I won't tell you to be strong or put on your big girl pants or Just Man Up (although those are all things I have told myself). I will merely say this: our only real problem [is] forgetting how great our God is (Sally Lloyd-Jones, Thoughts to Make Your Heart Sing).
And I forget all the time.
Please help me to remember.
Then around four weeks ago, something changed, and I didn't feel quite so sure of myself any more. I started having days when I wonder if I could do it on my own. I am snapping at the boys for the smallest infraction because I feel insecure in my future role as solo parent. I stopped writing because I am afraid to be weak right now (and writing, for me, is almost always about weakness). I want to be resilient.
On Wednesday, we found out that the Man's pre-deployment training had been bumped up a month. So he's leaving this Tuesday, as opposed to next month, and while that doesn't really change much (he'll be home July and August before he heads out for real), I had to do a quick rearrangement of my plans and expectations for the month. He's spent the last few days vacuum sealing gear and scalping the grass and trying to get one month of preparation squeezed into three work days.
And then today, I'm just being honest, I hit full blown panic. The kind where you find yourself crying in the laundry room but you're not actually doing laundry. The kind where you open the fridge and then realize you were supposed to be getting dinner out of the oven. The kind where you think you might possibly, just a little bit, potentially be going crazy (but please, God, don't let anyone notice).
With all of this, I'm not sure it will come as a surprise to say my routine has been thrown off a bit, and that's why this space has been a bit more silent than usual. That and the aforementioned fear. But as one of my dear friend's reminded me last week, it sounds like I'm getting a lot of writing material as we go through this. And I can't help but think: waste not, want not. So here I am, not wasting my stories.
There is a second part to this blog that I'm hoping to add tomorrow, but I want to close for now with this.
Military spouse, whoever you are, it doesn't matter if it's your first deployment or your fifth. There are always new struggles and the fear of the return of old ones. It is hard to send your husband halfway around the world (whether to a war zone or not). It is hard to do this thing called life on your own while always wondering if the other half of your heart is okay. It is hard to daily die to self knowing that God has called you to the life that you are in. I won't tell you to be strong or put on your big girl pants or Just Man Up (although those are all things I have told myself). I will merely say this: our only real problem [is] forgetting how great our God is (Sally Lloyd-Jones, Thoughts to Make Your Heart Sing).
And I forget all the time.
Please help me to remember.
