Facing the Inevitable

In just under 12 hours, Dave will arrive home from his final DET (detachment) of 2015. While I am so excited to see him, incredibly happy to have him out of Jordan & thrilled for the fun filled month we have planned, I am also realistic to what it means when there are no more DETs. It's time for Deployment.

Being separated by deployment is nothing new in our relationship. Dave and I met just after he returned from his first Western Pacific Cruise in 2001. I really thought the first deployment we went through together would be the most difficult. It was a scheduled, run of the mill 6 month West Pac. Everything was looking great until the ship was 16 days from delivering my other half back to me and the phone rang. “Babe, we’re going back.” Seriously Big Navy? Way to ruin a girl’s New Years Eve! Fortunately, the kids and I had gone home for the holidays and I had my family to entertain me.

I am sitting here trying to figure out how many deployments we have done since that first one and I honestly, I can’t remember. I know it is at least four possibly five. After a while, all the time alone just kinda blends together.

For us, there are some very specific stages we go through prior to deployment and I would bet that most Military Families have similar experiences. It is comparable to the 5 Stages of Grief.  

Denial: This is the state I have essential been in since Dave returned from his last Deployment 3 years ago. While I knew eventually this day would come, I had tucked it way, way back in my mind and tried to forget it was going to happen. I just sat back and tried to have as many quality days with my husband as possible. And then, before we knew it, shore duty was over and the threat of being separated from my spouse was once again is breathing down my neck.

The Honeymoon: This is the stage our house will be entering tomorrow. It is my favorite and I would venture to say that it is everyone’s favorite. For us, there will be traveling to see family & old friends, a romantic cruise to the Bahamas, hanging out with the kids and just “being”. Everything is literally perfect while Dave is on leave. Literally. He will freely knock out that daunting honey-do list he has been avoiding, I will make sure to get all his favorite meals in one last time, everyone is happy. Life is perfect. Until the next stage hits.

Anger: Now, you would think that I would be angry at “Big Navy”, but that isn’t really the way this plays out. After all, what could I (or even we, as a collective group of spouses) do to express our frustration to the Navy? Absolutely nothing. So instead, we take it all out on our Spouse. We begin to nit-pick and find things they are doing wrong. “Seriously, Dave? How many times do I have to tell you that the milk does NOT go there in the fridge?” This stage usually ends with me screaming something along the lines of “I can’t freakin WAIT until you leave! I am so sick of dealing with you!”

Realization: This happens the MOMENT after that last sentence is exclaimed and Dave puts his arms around me and says with a smile, “You know that isn’t true babe. I know you’re going to miss me. But if you don’t stop being so mean to me, I may not miss you.” I have a good cry and try to sneak in a few extra honeymoon days before he leaves.

The Goodbye: We don’t take our kids with us when we say our final goodbye. They boys do that the night before so that Dave and I can have a private moment. We never wait until they call his flight to say our goodbyes: we don’t want to feel rushed. When the time gets close, he walks me to the car for a private moment. He turns to leave and I feel as if my heart has been ripped out. I quickly get into the car and cry all the way home. 

Loneliness: I don’t even know how to describe the loneliness the at home spouse feels. I know the deploying spouse is lonely too, but they are in what Dave calls “Boat Mode”, where nothing about his day reminds him of our life together. I, on the other hand, am left with an empty bed, two kids to raise, and the stress of bills, home repairs, car repairs, family emergencies, etc. It feels like I am constantly reminded of his absence. And his absence is like a piece of me is missing.

Acceptance & Working Through: At some point in the weeks that follow, you settle into a routine that doesn’t involve your spouse. You make arrangements with your “Sister Wife” to pick up the kids when you have to work late, you start to move into the middle of the bed and life becomes somewhat normal. And before you know it, you’ve made it to the “Over the Hump” party and you begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

The Upward Turn: This stage is when you find yourself in a rhythm. “YOU GOT THIS” becomes your daily mantra to both yourself and your fellow spouses. When you feel like you can’t take it another day, there is something to take your mind off of how much you are missing your spouse. It’s time to plan the homecoming. We get together to put up Welcome Home signs and tie yellow ribbons around trees. We start shopping for the perfect outfit: the one that will make the heart of our loved one skip a beat when he sees it. We line up a photographer to capture the moment our eyes meet. We try to decide if we should take a vacation with or without the kids. We have realized that sending the kids to Hawaii for Tiger Cruise is an excellent way to do this. The boys get their homecoming and aren’t upset in the slightest when Dave and I sneak away for a few days after their return.

Homecoming: You know when you first meet someone you like and there’s all that….anticipation? Your heart leaps into your throat at the site of him? You wonder what it’s going to feel like when he touches the small of your back? Imagining the feel of his mouth on yours when you share your first kiss? Well, that is what homecoming is like for me. It is like falling in love with my husband all over again.

I love that man with every fiber of my being and he’s on my mind with every breath I take, no matter how many hours and time zones separate us. It’s not an easy life. It’s not a life everyone is cut out for, but it’s my life and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  

Sick Doesn't Mean Broken

Yesterday I was siting in my therapist’s office chatting with her, trying to make her understand how my mind works. This is not an easy task. Apparently, everyone doesn’t play out (in their head, not out loud) multiple scenarios of how social interactions might go before they actually end up in said situation. I need to do this so I can plan for every possible outcome. I thought everyone did that.

She asked me what my goal was in therapy? I told her that obviously I didn’t want to be broken. This seemed to concern her. She asked why did I consider myself broken because of a chemical imbalance in my brain.  So then I started thinking…why do I think of my depression and anxiety in that way? When I get a migraine, I don’t get frustrated with my body for not being able to take care of it. How is this any different?

I have often been involved in conversations with parents about if I felt their child was ADHD. As a teacher, I never gave my opinion, only the facts:

·      Johnny has a hard time focusing on the task in front of him

·      Johnny is rarely able to finish his work in the allotted amount of time.

·      Johnny is often disruptive and this causes his classmates to become frustrated with him.

·      Johnny often beats himself up when these things happen.

Sometimes parents would say “Oh, yeah, he’s been diagnosed with ADHD, but we are choosing not to medicate. We don’t believe in that sorta thing.” This is the point where I would say, “And that is your right as his parent” and close my mouth.

But what I wanted to do was ask why are you punishing your child for having a treatable disorder? Do you not give your child Tylenol if they have a headache or fever? Do you decline antibiotics for your toddlers’ ear infection? What if Johnny had diabetes? Would you deny him insulin, stating that you don’t believe in that sorta thing?

The truth is, my depression and anxiety is no different than having a heart problem, ADHD, high cholesterol, lyme disease or an assortment of other treatable diseases and disorders. I have to stop thinking of it as a Mental Illness and instead simply an illness. I’m sick and I’m working on getting better. And, not to toot my own horn, but I’m doing a pretty darned good job.

Last week I flew across the ocean without needing Xanex for my anxiety (mostly thoughts of my plane crashing and leaving my children motherless). THAT is a big deal for me.

I spent an entire week with Momma and didn’t get annoyed with her once. THAT is a big deal for me.

My husband is in a place I consider to be dangerous and I am not playing out all of the possible kidnapping/ransom demands in my head. THAT is a big deal for me.

So guess what? I’m not broken. I struggle sometimes; some things are tougher for me than other people (see first paragraph), and I sometimes make things much more difficult than they need to be (anyone in my OSC can probably think of a recent scenario where this relates—sorry ladies).

But I am not broken.