Foghorn

I can't sleep. I traveled to California from Texas last weekend and am feeling the effects of jet lag, different time zones, and daylight savings. Although it was a short trip, it was wonderful to see family. I wouldn't have traded it for the world. However, it made me miss my husband so much. The last time I'd been home without him was a year ago when he was in Basic Training. I was working and in EMT school. This time last year I was begging my boss to let me have Thanksgiving weekend off so I could go visit John for his 36 hour pass from Basic.

In many ways, that seems like eons ago. So much has changed in just a year. My mind has a hard time wrapping around the concept of a year deployment. Most days, it feels like mere survival. I thought I was lonely last month, but the feeling just compounds as time goes on. A couple of weeks ago, I remarked to my husband that it had been so long since someone touched me. That very night, I was blessed with an amazing hug from a beautiful friend. God is gracious to give me the little things. And it's those little things that keep me chugging through the mud, a momentary rest to catch my breath, just enough to prepare me for the next wave. There are days when I feel like screaming, "Help! I'm drowning in deployment and I can't get out!" but I don't want to cry wolf. I think to myself that it's going to get harder, I haven't had it that bad yet, don't ask for encouragement until you really need it... Wait until you're really drowning. And often times, just saying I need help in my head is enough for me to hold on a little tighter. I really haven't had it that bad! I've heard from my husband just about every day. But some days I want to throw out the computer, the very thing that makes it possible to talk to him, but I'm just so sick of being married to a computer. A computer can't hold my hand. It can't kiss me. It can't wrap it's arms around me.

There is a lot of guilt associated with deployment that people don't prepare you for. My husband feels guilty for putting me in this position. I feel guilty for expressing that this situation sucks because then it makes him feel more guilty. I feel guilty when I enjoy things that he can't do, like going out to eat or seeing a movie. He feels guilty that I feel guilty for enjoying myself! It's an ugly cycle and one that I had no idea would exist. It's not easy to balance staying strong and supportive of him, but also sharing my hurts with my best friend.

I don't know when he's coming home. I have nothing tangible to look forward to, nothing to mark on the calendar. It may be two months from now or ten. Psychologists agree that people survive disasters when they have hope, when they can hear the rescuers in the distance, even if they are days away. I feel like Florence Chadwick who attempted to swim a distance along the California coast. She'd been a champion swimmer, the first woman to swim the English Channel in both directions. However, she didn't make it. When asked why she gave up, she remarked that if she "could have seen the land" she might have made it. The fog clouded her vision. She couldn't see the finish. This is my foghorn.