Sounds of Christmas

"W, if I have to tell you one more time that you are not allowed to use clay-mores on your daughter, you are so done playing MW3!"
Some things are so much more fun nagging about.
I love that my husband and our 12 year old daughter bond over killing others (really, I do!)
When he first came home after boot, he taught her (at the time she was 5) kill-kill moves.  Which is all fun and games until I get called to the preschool office...........
"We are very concerned about M's behavior.  Today, she punched a little girl in the stomach and knocked her down."
Me, "M, Why would you think it was ok to punch anyone?"
M, "Well, I told her twice........... I didn't want to play."
As I look at my beautiful child, I struggle with the urge to respond, 'Well, she told her twice.  What did you expect her to do?'
What I did was to ground her and my husband to M's room until they had time to discuss the where's and when's of kill-kill moves for preschoolers.
Christmas is so much more fun with the inappropriate humor of the Corp.
It was a good holiday!
Semper Fi

"I don't know, I don't really think about it"

I have shingles.  I have been sick for the past 5 days.  Yesterday, I awoke with a sinus infection....... as if I didn't feel badly enough already.
I awoke at six this morning because even with the humidifier on, I still couldn't breath.  I got up and took Dayquil because we are out of Nyquil.  I got back into bed, careful not to wake him.  But I couldn't sleep, so I lay still  pretending to.  Time past slowly and my mind wandered to a few weeks back:

     We lie next to each other as the the light from the early dawn seeks refuge from the coming day through the blinds and the plum colored curtains. I can hear his soft, rhythmic breathing.  On this particular morning, I am feeling............... good.  Good about us.  Good about my love for him.   Positive that that love is reciprocated.  These days are rare, but they do occur.  My thoughts are not about doubt or fear.  They are not about betrayal or rejection.  These are raw, unabridged emotions.  This is how I used to think about him.  About us.  Before.  Before 9/11.  Before the Corp.  Before Iraq.  Before he thought differently about me.  When he still thought about me.
     I want to be closer to him.  Ok, so fear is still a part of this.  Fear of rejection.  But he is asleep and less likely to pull away.  Slowly, I entwine my feet with his.  Careful not to tickle him.  He is so ticklish.  I slide my leg between his and wrap my arm around his chest.  He does not stir. I am not rejected.  I feel, almost welcomed.  An involuntary smile creeps across my lips.  For awhile I just hold him.  Content to be this close.  


"Are you awake?"  I startle to hear his voice.
"Yeah.  Did I wake you?"
"No.  I got up earlier to get a drink and haven't been back to sleep."
His voice is jovial and makes me smile in spite of my present misery.
He says its cold and we should turn the fan off.  I ask him if he would like to watch a movie, maybe have some hot tea.  He agrees but jokes about who will be the one to brave the arctic temps on the other side of the covers.  He is funniest first thing in the morning, he always has been.  He teases about making me do all of it so he can stay in bed.  And I attempt to make him feel badly for not taking better care of his sick wife.  There is a long pause.  A lull in the conversation, as if we are both waiting to see who will get out of bed first.
"Can I ask you a random question?"

      I slide my hand down his chest, past his belly.


"Sure, I guess."

      He is hard.  Morning wood.  The phrase makes me smile though I tell myself it is not in response to  my touch, I cannot make myself believe this.  I need to believe it is me.


I think about this for only a second, as I know if I wait too long, I will lose the courage to follow through.

      He feels so good.


"Do you not touch me because you feel you do not have the right or because you do not want to?  Do you not want me?

      So hard.


He laughs.
"That is random."

       He does not pull away from me............ so I pull myself closer and my grip becomes more firm.


"I know but I don't touch you because I think you don't want me to.  I don't want to assume you just don't want me.  I need to know why."

         He smells so good.  The feel of his skin next to mine.  Its like electricity.  I feel alive.  


"Sooooooo, you want to make tea and I will find us a movie?"

       So alive.  It has been so long.  Holding him in my hand, it feels so good.  I allow myself to think of the possibilities.  So many possibilities.
  
I laugh.  His response is inappropriate but it's so him and it really is funny even if it's not what I need to hear.

       I want him so badly.  Not just to sit next to him on couch watching TV.  Not just holding his hand or hugging him.  I want him.  I need him.  All of him. I need him to want me.......


"Really.  I need to know."

        I need to know that I am worthy.  I need to feel loved.  Not just hear the words but to feel them.  Feel them flow through his finger tips to my bare skin.  Feel that his love for me is real.  Tangible.  


"I don't know, I don't really think about it."

        He turns away from me.  He doesn't push my hand away, nothing that obvious.  Just rolls his body away from mine.  From my touch.  From my love.  From my need.


Sometimes I wonder if being like him would be a blessing or a curse.  But I do know that it wouldn't hurt so much if I didn't think about it.  Really didn't think about it.  If I didn't need him or the love he withholds.  Or is incapable of giving.

Amazing

Someone close to me shared this and it moved me.  I want others to see it.

http://ohpenelopephotography.blogspot.com/

Words

"You're saying a lot without saying anything."
I sit next to him on the couch.  I am pretending to watch something on the tv....... but he is right, in my head, I am screaming.  Only my mouth isn't cooperating.
I breathe in, attempting to force the words.  But this only results in a sigh.
He isn't looking at me.  I think he is pretending to watch too.
I'm spinning my ring, I do this when I'm nervous........... no.  I do it when I hurt.  And right now I'm in a great deal of pain.  My head is spinning and I feel nauseous.  The words are there and I keep thinking the will just spill out but I can't seem to make them.
M comes down the stairs.  She and her dad speak......make a few jokes.
He gets up from the couch and goes to the kitchen.  I get up and proceed to make me some hot tea.
"I would have made that for you."
"I know.  It's ok."
M goes back upstairs.  I go to him and wrap my arms around him.  He holds me tight to his chest.  Still no words but the tears come.  I keep my head down and go to the bathroom.  I hate crying.  I hate crying in front of him even more.  Tears make me feel weak, vulnerable.  I hate feeling like that.  When I come out, my eyes are red but he doesn't look at me.
Back on the couch, I try harder to focus on the movie.  Try so hard to refocus my thoughts on something besides the problem.  The words.  The ones that need to be said but are so hard.  Maybe they don't.  Maybe saying them makes the problem real and not giving them voice will make it dissipate.  Maybe it will just go away.
"Are you going tell me what's on your mind or not?"
Now, I can't even look in his direction.
"You are screaming with your body language but you are still not saying anything.  Either talk to me or let it go."
I turn to face him.  The tears come now and I am helpless to stop them.  Slowly I raise my hand to wipe them away, only more come.
"I do not believe you were where you said you were.  I do not trust you when you are not with me."
There is a long pause.  I feel he is waiting for me to finish before he says anything.  Waiting to see if there is anything more.
"Only, if you are telling me the truth and I do not believe you.......... then I am pathetic and insecure.  And if I'm right and you were somewhere else with someone else, then I am just pathetic and naive."
I turn my head away from him and try again to wipe away the seemingly endless flow of tears.
I am so dizzy.  My head is spinning round and round, as if the hearing all my thoughts out loud has created some sort of vacuum.  I can no longer tell if I am even breathing.
"I do not wish to be either."
And then they are all out.  There are no more words.  There is nothing left to say.  The room is silent.  Somewhere in the background, the movie plays on............. or maybe he has paused it.  But for these few seconds, time seems to slow down.
"I don't want you to be either.  I know I have hurt you and I will leave if that is what you want but I do not believe it will help."
He reaches for my hand and I allow him to take it.  I cannot stop crying and so I do not look at him.  And because I have run out of words, I say nothing but I can feel my head slowly shake from side to side.
"How about we shower, get ready and go out.  Get some breakfast, maybe watch a movie?  But get out of the house and spend the day together."
I force myself to look at him.  I nod my head.

Rough Day

I started to write tonight because my husband has been out all day with coworkers to a wedding.  One he didn't think it was appropriate for his wife to attend.  It was a small ceremony on a golf course and he was asked to preform the ceremony and then they were all going to play 18 holes.  I asked him before he left why the bride didn't want his wife there.  He said something about the number of players.
He called several hours later to tell me that the bride said he should have brought his wife...... he said he felt like an ass.  Then he proceeded to tell me that they were all going back to the newlyweds house to hang out for awhile and then he'd be home.
Apparently he didn't feel like enough of an ass to ask his wife to join him.  I am trying but sometimes I just want to hit him over the head with something extremely large and heavy............ like a transit bus.  Really?
So, I hang out.  Clean the kitchen, do some laundry, watch Glee with my daughter (I hate that show, but I love her).  He finally calls me just a few moments ago to tell me our son-in-law has invited him to play pool and he wants to know if I mind.  I was speechless.
I said of course not.  But then I had to take it back.  I told him everything about today bothered me and though I was desperately trying to pretend it didn't.........it really did.
"So, you want me to call D and tell him that I won't make it?"
Silence.
"Hello?"
"No.  I want you to go.  I can't make you want to come home and spend time with me or ask me to come along.  So no, go.......... play pool."
I know I cannot expect him to read my mind.  But a little common courtesy would be nice.  Mutual respect.
Maybe I am just asking for too much.
Maybe I should just start with the small things............... Like loyalty. Faithfulness.
Or........... are those too much?
He just called me back.  He is on his way home instead of playing pool.  Only now.......... I'm already mad.

Suprise

Yesterday I awoke at 4:30am.  I couldn't sleep, though I lay in bed for 2 more hours trying.  I had to work a booth at a craft fair (my other job), so I finally got up to get ready.
By the time I got back home, I was exhausted.  I worked to organize my leads from the fair and then began dinner.  My husband was watching the Boise State game.  He was in an unusually good mood.

As I moved about the kitchen preparing food, he spoke,
"You are so beautiful."
I looked up to find him with a smile on his face, staring at me.
"What?"
"I said, you are so beautiful."
I smiled at his silly grin and thanked him.
Early in our marriage, he used to tell me this everyday and I probably took it for granted.  I shouldn't have.  Yesterday, was a good day.

What I do not know......

I awoke at 2 this morning.  I have no idea what woke me, but I picked up my phone to check the time and was pleased to find I still had 3 hours until I had to get ready for work.  I was less pleased to find my husband was still not in bed.  This has been a problem off and on for us.  Shouldn’t be, I know.   Only during the affair, he used to use this time to communicate with her and that still stings.  Its associated behavior.  The behavior alone isn’t a problem.  It’s what’s associated with it that is.

I slowly opened the bedroom door and looking out into the living room.  It was empty.  But the light in the back yard was on.  He was out on the patio paying a game on his phone and smoking.  I opened the door a little and asked him what he was doing.  It was cold and I could see my breath.  He smiled and told me he was keeping the cat company and playing.  He would be in shortly.

I didn’t respond but shut the door and returned to bed.  I didn’t go back to sleep and even when he did return to bed, I couldn’t sleep.  After about 30 minutes, I asked if he was still awake.  He asked me why I was.

“I’m fretting.”

“Don’t fret.  Everything is ok.”  He proceeds to detail his account of what he was doing all night.  It didn’t help.  He used to do that too…. Only it was all lies.  It is difficult to believe him.  I feel sick and consider getting up and going to the living room to watch tv.  But I know this would not be constructive.  So I lay there and fret some more. 

In the king size bed, we do not touch.  I consider reaching out but cannot force my hands away from my body.  I want to touch him but am so wary.  If he is still unfaithful and I reach out to him…. am I not pathetic?   If he needs me and I don’t reach out to him…..am I not heartless?  I want to be neither of these.

He rolls away from me and still I do not move.  I try to listen to his breathing pattern to determine if he is sleeping.  I hold my breath but still I cannot tell.  Closing my eyes I try to will myself to sleep.  It doesn’t work.

Suddenly he jumps then stills.  He jerks again and this time I do not hesitate.  I place the palm of my hand on his back.  He turns on his back, pulling my hand to his chest and holding it there.  Neither of us says anything.  I cannot tell if he was even conscience.  The tears come but I think they are good tears.  Sleep follows quickly afterwards.

Why I stay

A friend of mine recently asked me this question.  Almost 13 years of marriage and more than half has been a struggle.
But answering was easy.  He is my best friend.  I remember who he was before the Marines..... before 2 deployments......... before the lies, the cheating, the pain.  I know he will never be the same person I fell in love with, but the love I have for him has not diminished.
And there are still days when he can make me feel loved.
I stay because I have never allowed myself the option of leaving.  Marriage is difficult.... some days more so than others.

Absent

I celebrated my birthday a few weeks ago.  I have been absent for awhile.  Absent from my own thoughts.  I have been filling my time with family.  My girls.......... sometimes my husband.  My full time job and my new part time job.  Recently, I ran into a friend I had lost touch with some time ago.  It has been good to have a friend.  I spent so much time cutting everyone out of my life so I wouldn't have to speak of painful things........ I forgot how good it is to hear my voice.  And though the pain remains, she understands in a way not many do.... or can.
And it makes no sense to me.  She is younger.  So much younger.  She shouldn't get me the way she does.  But I am glad she does.  It is comforting to know someone does.

She asked me to come with her to a dance class.  Burlesque.  It was fun.  I had also forgotten how much I loved dance.  How good it feels to move my body.... feel the music and nothing else.  To get lost.
I will go back next week............ an maybe the week after.

Things I Tell Myself

1.    It doesn't matter, get over it 
2.    Make him feel loved
3.    Be someone who is easy to love
4.    Watch how you say it
5.     Apologize, it doesn't matter who's fault it is......... we are in this together
6.     Do not stress him out
7.     It doesn't matter
8.     It doesn't matter
9.     It doesn't matter
10.   It doesn't matter

The reality, I am alone in this marriage and to him, it doesn't matter.

Invisible

He doesn't see me any more.  I have become a fixture in our marriage, like the faucet in the bathroom.  I'm there, always there; nothing special.  I can be used and forgotten easily.  If I were to leave, he would notice but only in that he would now be forced to use a different sink to wash his hands and brush his teeth.  He would be mildly irritated but he would not mourn.  It would not be a loss. 

We do have our good days.  Days it feels as if everything will work itself out.  And then there are the bad days.  Always 2 steps forward......... 18 back.  On these days I try to talk to him.  But with each bad day, it takes so much more to bring myself to speak with him.  I have to be so........... careful?  No.  So......... diplomatic.  I have learned that if I want to illicit a  specific response, I must choose my words very carefully.

This past Sunday, we were still in bed and he was on his cell phone............ playing on the internet.  It took me nearly a half hour to build up the courage to tell him that he had hurt me the night before.  When I finally began the conversation, he never looked at me.  He spoke occasionally and never put down the phone.
"I want to scream 'YOU ARE SO FUCKING INCONSIDERATE', but I know that isn't going to help.  So, again, I will tell you what it is I need from you."
Silence.  Continues with cell phone
"Why do I always feel like I have to compete with your cell phone?"
"Why do you make it a competition?"  Laughs condescendingly at his own joke and continues.
"I am multitasking.  I can put it down when I need to."
"And you don't feel this conversation warrants your full attention?"
He puts phone down, but still doesn't look at me.

He has told me that he believes he would be better off alone.  Of course he has also said he only stays for the sake of our youngest daughter.  He has said a lot of things.......... a lot of hurtful things.  He said it is how he feels, how he processes things in his mind.  It is not his intention to be hurtful.   Says his counselor has told him to be honest (he stopped going many months ago......)  Honesty is good.  Only, I need him to be honest about where he is and when he will be home.  He could be a little less honest about whether or not he thinks my breath smells bad.

He doesn't feel or think about things the way I do.  What I call "common courtesy", he claims "I just didn't think about it".  Things he never would have done before, I cannot seem to break him of now.  I asked him once, how would he feel if I told him I would be home in 20 minutes and 2 hours later I was still gone and not answering my phone.  He didn't respond but I already knew the answer.  He would not notice.  Because to him, I am invisible.

I have found that invisible is just a form of constant rejection and has become a cancer to my self worth. 

Unemployment

Yesterday, I received an email from our HR department that a good friend of mine (she is the director of AR) had "retired, effective immediately".  I found this odd.  The email was cold.  Where was the "she will be greatly missed", "We thank her for her 27 years of service", or even "We wish her luck with future endeavors". 

I began to feel sick to my stomach.  I also notice the email was sent only to the Office Managers of our 6 manufacturing plants.  I forwarded on to my boss and one other plant manager I work closely with.  My boss was equally shocked.  I explained my theory of her being forced out.  He disagreed; said it had to have been because of a health issue (she has a few) or a family issue (her husband has also been ill). 

I called our regional office and inquired.  There are several ladies who have been with our company at Corporate for 25+ years and are all very close.  I spoke with the receptionist. I asked if Y had been sick.  She said no.  I asked if her husband was ill.  Again, she said no.  I stopped asking questions.  The receptionist said everyone there was very upset.  I began to cry and had to let her go.

Y trained me to do my job.  I spoke with her almost every day about something.  We shared personal joys as well as professional frustrations.  She was a mentor. 

I went to the bathroom and regained my composure.  I work with men, there is no crying at work.  EVER! 

My boss and I discussed different theories.  He agreed that something was up but could not fathom that our company, who has been in business 108 years and prides itself on treating employees as family, would ever do anything contrary to that.

Shortly before lunch, I looked up her home number and wrote it down.  At lunch, I called her.  I told her that I would not ask anything but wanted her to know that she would be greatly missed and I owed her so much for all her patience and support during my early months as a new employee.

She had no problem opening up.  She said that the new HR director (a recent college grad) had brought her into her office and explained (and I paraphrase), "Your position is being automated and your are no longer have a place with this company. You qualify for retirement so that will go into effect immediately."

Not one of our executives was even in the building.  Chicken shits!  Really?  I understand that it is perfectly normal and even preferred for HR to handle things like this.  But to use a some 20 something college grad, who has been with the company for less than 9 months, to force retire a committed employee who has dedicated 27 years of her life?  THAT'S BULLSHIT!

Today, I sent flowers to her home with a heart felt note.  I am embarrassed of the company I work for.  I have always had issues with the way the over educated morons (all men) run this company, but this goes so far beyond anything I ever thought they would do.  And that's saying a lot.

Example; a year ago, our assistant plant manager (a man) was promoted to plant manager of a new plant.  There was talk of bringing in a new college grad to replace him.  I figure, I have a BS and 8 months experience in my position as Office Manager (not to mention the 16 years of management experience I had before I got there).... so I throw my hat into the ring. 

I spent more than a month asking my immediate boss about the job.  He kept trying to talk me out of it.  When I finally went over his head to his boss, I was told "That's great.  But just so you know, in 107 years, a woman has never held that position.  BUT, of course we will consider you."
A year later........... the position is still open and no one will talk to me about it.

Y called me today to thank me for the flowers.  I told her about me blogging to help me deal with my spouses PTSD and TBI.  I hardly speak to anyone about this and NEVER anyone I work with.  It was difficult.  But I wanted her to know that blogging and reading the blogs of other has helped me to cope with issues.  She responded in her thick southern, debutant accent, "Hang in there sweetie, its a long and bumpy ride.  A very long one."  You see, her husband fought in Vietnam.  I knew that but never thought we might endure a similar struggle.

Almost two years I have worked with her and we never discussed it.  Of course, I am not saying we will talk about it now.............. its just that....... so many of us suffer in silence.  Day in.  Day out.  And maybe.  Well, maybe its not necessary. 

Stupid things, I know.  Not that after talking to Y, I'm going to rush out and start a support group.  But I might start looking into finding one that already exists....................maybe.

Books

I read a lot.  Before my husband's second deployment, he suggested a read McCoy's Marines to help me understand all the things he can't bring himself to talk about.  After that, I began to acquire more and more books about the Afghanistan and Iraq Wars.  Then I saw the HBO series, The Pacific.  Soon I was searching Amazon for books written by E.B. Sledge (Sledgehammer) and Robert Leckie (Lucky); books about WWII POW's (Louis Zamperini), Medal of Honor recipients (John Basilone) and a Marine who was so crazy about fighting for his country, he lied about his age and joined at 14 (Jack Lucas). 

Shortly after starting my latest job, found it was a good use of my time to get audio books to help make my 600 mile per week commute a little more tolerable.  I love them.  There are some days I cannot wait to leave for work, just so I can listen to my book for an hour.  So I can escape into someone else's world.

Right now I am reading When the War is Over... A New One Begins at home, With the Old Breed when I'm not busy at work and The Help while commuting between the two. 

But no matter what I read and the insight I might gain..... It will not help me to understand what my husband it going through.  Those books will not improve my marriage or make me feel appreciated..... or even loved.  I wish there was a book for all of that.... or a pill.   Something.

For now they are just books and like drugs or alcohol......... I will use them to break away from the pain I have at home.  And yet I know, I'm lucky.  At least I still have my husband.  I am lucky.

I do love him.  It's just been so long since I felt that love returned.

11 September 2001

It was early in the morning, so early it was still dark outside.  I lay on the couch watching TV when he came out to the living room with his bags packed.

"Have you had much sleep?" he asked looking down at the little girl in my arms.  Her face was flushed with fever but her eyes were closed.
"Some.  She was up several times so I stayed out here.  She hasn't been asleep for long."

He leaned down and kissed my forehead.

"I will miss you but I will be back in a few days."

He was headed to Vegas for a manufacturers convention.  It was something, as a young engineering contractor for Hallmark, he had fought long and hard to be a part of.

He kissed me again, this time on the lips.

"I love you.  I will call you when my flight lands."

He picked up his bags and headed down the stairs to the front door.

"I love you," I whispered, so not to wake her.

The house was silent. The door didn't open.  After a few moments, I heard his soft foot steps slowly ascend the stairs.  I turned to look at him.

"I can't go.  Not while she is still so sick."

I started to object but interrupted me.

"You haven't slept in days.  Let me take her, you go to bed; get some sleep.  I will wake you when its time to drive S to school."

He took her from arms before I could object.

Later, as I drove our 10 year old to school; we chatted about what she would be doing at school that day.  I did not have the radio on.  After I kissed her goodbye and told her to have a great day, I headed back home.  I was still so exhausted.  The quiet was inviting to the sleep I needed so badly.
I rolled window down and allowed the cool morning air to blow on my face.  Then I switched on the radio..................................

I kept picturing a small single engine plane, some poor pilot who miscalculated or was drinking.  It had to have been an accident.  A horrible accident.

As soon as I arrived back home, I raced up the stairs and turned on the tv.  He was asleep on the couch.  The baby was in her crib, sleeping.  I didn't have to search for the news, it was on every channel.


"You have to see this!  It was all over the radio." 

He sat up, immediately drawn into the footage.  I backed away from the tv and sat next to him.  As we both tried to grasp what had happened, the second plane struck tower two.

"That was definitely not a small plane."

I reached for his hand and squeezed it tight.  As the President grounded all flights, I realized just how much worse things would have been had he gotten on his flight to Vegas.  I looked over at him, pulling my eyes away from the horror on the screen.

"Thank you for not going."

He returned the squeeze.

I had to call into work so I could take the baby to the doctor.  I worked for a Persian family who owned a retail store.  When I called my boss, he was also watching the  news.  They had just begun to report on the plane that had struck the Pentagon.

"They have to stop.  They have to stop or things are going to get out of control."  The panic in his voice was obvious.  And I knew what he meant.  His family was not Arabic, but they were Muslim and he was worried that would make them and their business a target.

We sat and watched the footage unfold for the remainder of the day.  I do not recall ever taking the baby to doctor's.  I know I cried several times that day.  I kept thinking about all the people trapped, all their families not knowing where their loved ones were.  Thinking about all the firemen and policemen risking their lives.......... so many sacrifices, so much loss.  I was reminded of the Oklahoma City bombing.  I remembered thinking that bombing had to have been done by some crazed anti government SOB.  But an American.  I did not think that about this attack.

When S came home from school, she said they had done nothing but watch the news all day.  She said her teachers had cried and some of the students too.  But she wasn't entirely sure what was happening.  We both spoke with her and tried to answer questions but it was a lot for a 10 year old to take in.

I knew things would change after that day; but I had no idea just how my world would be directly effected.

August 2004
I dropped my husband off at the hotel.  The girls and I stood facing him as we tried to find the words to say goodbye.  The following day, he would be headed to San Diego MCRD for boot camp.

The Wedding

Saturday was our oldest daughter's wedding.  It was so beautiful and many people worked so hard to make sure everything was perfect.  Of course it wasn't, but I'm probably the only one who noticed.  I think I might have slept 5 hours in the 3 days prior to the big day.  Saturday morning I awoke with the worst sinus infection.  I was beyond tired and felt horrible.  I cried twice before 10am.

We made it to the Mansion (a historical home where the wedding and reception were held) at noon and had 6 hours before the ceremony was to held.  It was the fastest 6 hours of my life.  I had my hair done by my hairdresser before I left, so I wouldn't have to worry about it.  I had to steam wrinkles out of my dress, my youngest daughter's brides maids dress and of course the wedding dress.  Then I had to fix hair for two brides maids and the bride; do my make up and the brides; finish getting myself ready and during all of this, run around and answer questions.  I am sure this is all normal stuff for all mothers of the bride.  I could not have done it without the help of my family and close friends.

But as I sat and watched my daughter emerge at the top of the stairs with her dad (in his dress blues) I realized that nothing else mattered.  It had all be about this moment.  The string quartet played and I watched as they came down the stairs and then the isle.   After he gave her away to the groom, he sat next to me and took my hand in his.  He had tears on his cheeks.  Later he would say it was hot and he was sweating but I know better.

So my husband, who is completely incapable of feeling............ can feel.  And this means there is hope.  And any hope, regardless of how small....... is Hope.

The First Time

I lay facing his back; his soft breath is the only sound in the room.  The sun just barely penetrates the blinds and filters through the dark curtains.  Slowly and very lightly, I trace my finger in the space between his shoulder blades.  My mind drifts back…..

Now the room is well lit as the sun pours in the sliding glass doors of the balcony.  They both lay naked on the futon in the living room.  There is laughter….. so much laughter.

“I don't know!”  Her voice is raised but the smile on her lips betrays her feigned irritation.

“You have to try harder.  Here, I will go slower.”

He draws his index finger slowly across her back; very deliberate and over exaggerated.

“How about that?”

“Nooooooo!  I don't want to do this, I suck at this game.”

“Don’t say that.  Here, you can do it to me.”

Her expression changes from pouty to devious as she rolls out from under him and turns to face him. 

“Alright.”

He smiles at her and plants a kiss full on her lips.  She returns the kiss with passion that matches his and then pulls away quickly.

“Your turn!”

She pushes him face down on the futon and pulls herself to a sitting position. 

“Are you ready?”

“Go for it.”

Her finger moves slowly across his back in long, smooth movements.  When she is finished, she pauses for a reaction.

“Is that it?”

“But what did I write?”

He pauses and then replies, “Do it one more time.”

She laughs and this time she draws just a little more quickly.

“I don't know.  Try something else.”

She laughs out loud.  This is so much more fun when he isn’t any good at it either.

Again, she glides her finger across his back.  This time when he claims not to know, she jabs her finger into his ribs.  He jerks to the side, “UGH!”

“Ok, ok.  One more time but you have to hold still.”

“Then no more tickling.”  

Behind his back, the smile on her lips broadens and her eyes light up.

Without thought, she quickly traces out one symbol and two letters.

She sits back and waits.  There is no immediate reaction and the pause only adds to her giddiness.

“How do you know?”

The smile immediately fades as her heart drops into her stomach.

 “W-what?”

He flips over to face her and grabs her arms to keep her from pulling away.

“How do you know?”

She stares at him as if his words are incomprehensible. 

“You have never been ok with saying that before, how do you know now?”

He knew.  He knew all along what she had been writing.  He only pretended not to, to see if she would let her guard down.  It had work.

I can smell the sweet scent of his skin; warm to the touch.  And I had done those 13 years ago, I trace out that same phrase between his shoulder blades.

I ♥ U 

This time there is no reaction.  His breathing remains unchanged.  I lean forward the gently kiss over where I have traced.  He pulls away and rolls closer to the edge of the bed, still sleeping.  I try not to take it as rejection, but it's a struggle.  I scoot closer and kiss him one more time.  This time he has no where left to move without rolling onto the floor.

I close my eyes and recite the prayer I have said at least a million times in the past 6 years.

"Father please give me the strength and courage to be what he needs me to be.  Please help me to help him.  Please heal him as you are the only one who can.  Please bless and watch over him."

A vague and cryptic start

This morning, I lay in bed and wrote my blog; not typed words that can be spell checked…… the ones that crowd my head; overrun my mind.  I must have written 6 or 7 pages.  It wasn't chronological; in fact there was no order to it whatsoever.  More like random thoughts from the past 13 years.  I got up when the tears had soaked my pillow. 

I thought it would be easier to do this if I held complete anonymity.  I have thought about what I would write for the better part of 2 hours this morning and either I am at a loss for where to begin or I’m stalling.  Maybe a little of both.

I keep reading blogs written by other military wives hoping to find the courage to share.  My story isn’t special or unique.  The more I read, the more I am beginning to think it’s not even worth sharing.  Who the Hell am I to complain about anything?!  My husband came home.  He came home with few scars and all his limbs.  He hasn’t beaten me and is never angry.

I have a friend who is married to a veteran of the Air Force.  She tells me that I am a selfish brat. 

“Stop making this about you.  This is about him and what he has been through.  It is NOT about you.”

“It doesn't matter.”  This is what I used to tell myself when he hurt me.  In the beginning, I didn't have to say it much and it was easy to believe.  I would say it when I felt rejected, when he was indifferent or condescending.  Then I would have to say it on the way to work in the morning so I could focus on my job.  Eventually, I had to say it every morning just so I could get out of bed and every night so I could sleep. 

It doesn't matter.  It doesn't matter.  It doesn't matter.

Only………. It does.  If it didn't, I wouldn't have to say it, I wouldn't even think about it……..

It.  Just. Wouldn't.  Matter.

What it is to me.....

The War in Iraq

There hasn't been a single day since March 2003, in which the people of the United States have not been bombarded with information from the media on the war in Iraq. And though they claim to report from an unbiased platform, it becomes increasingly more difficult to find reports which do not, in some way, attempt to sway the American people either for or against this war. Take into consideration that the average American believes a large percentage of what is either on TV or the Internet, and now we have a nation of people who form their opinions based solely on biased reporting. As the wife of a Marine, my views on this war have been formed on an altogether different set of criteria.

Initially, the war was the period of time I went without seeing my husband. It was a glass of wine, a letter a night and endless tears. However, once I discovered our Unit’s need for Family Readiness volunteers, it became an opportunity to help others; to focus on something more constructive than my own pain. The war became a series of answers about deployment, benefits, legal issues, dates, and shipping regulations; a phone call from a concerned mom on how best to get money to her son or an email from an emotional wife about the small things that overwhelm us when we’re alone. And from there it expanded into Predeployment meetings, quarterly news letters, briefings with the CO & NCO’s and Return & Reunions.

When my husband returned home, the war became more real. No longer was it about what I had to do without, but what he had endured. It was listening a lot and questioning very carefully. The war had become the small lines around his eyes and the weary look deep inside them. It was the bonds of friendship, the pain of loss and everything in between that went unsaid. The war had come home and was now an occupying force in our small, Midwest home.

A few years and another deployment later; this war remains in the forefront of my thoughts. But when I watch the news or read an article about it, I have a difficult time applying the information to what I have experienced. For me, this war has never been political; never about oil, Republican vs. Democrat, capital gains, or even a question of right and wrong. The war in Iraq simply is and will continue to be an evolving entity in my life, both personally and professionally. Only now the focus is a little broader than before.

Today, the war in Iraq is about creating training programs for my managers so they can supervise employees who have experienced combat stress. It’s about communicating with coworkers who are veterans, getting to knowing them and understanding what they need to function in a civilian position. And more importantly, it’s about what I can do to support those who have given so much of themselves for our country.

April 14, 2010
Writing sample submitted with my application to the CIA
(one of 600 rejected government applications)

The Dream

Sleep faded from her slowly, like the fog burning off in the early hours of dawn. She shifted and slid her naked body, searching to connect with something. Aware of his presence before actually feeling the warmth of his body.  She breathed him in. There was a heat that filled her within, not entirely sexual. Touching him made her feel whole. She felt as though she had come home after a long absence.

The sheets were cool, a stark contrast to the heat of his body. Contact started with her feet, slowly entwining her legs with his. She gently pulled her hips and breasts to him, revering the effect his naked body could have on hers. Slowly caressing his bare chest, she softly kissed his shoulder. “Mmmmm, you’re here baby.” She spoke in a whisper as if to not wake him. He turned on his side and wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest. “Of course I am.” His response was spoken as if uttered from a distant dream. He did not open his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward and his lips brushed her forehead.

The early morning light beamed through the shear curtains that hung loosely around the bedroom window and warmed her bare skin. She realized that she was alone. She felt for him, reaching for him, but his side of the bed was cool and empty.

Had she fallen back asleep? Her eyes fluttered open and slowly focused. She found him standing at the window, gazing out at the rising sun. Her heart soared and calmed the panic that had begun to seize her. He was naked, the sun bathing his beautiful body in an almost unnatural light. His arms were crossed over his broad chest and his perfectly round ass facing her.

“I had a dream you were home, my love.” This time it was her who smiled. He turned to her and the light kept her from really seeing his features. “But it wasn’t a dream, was it? You are home.” Her heart ached at the thought she might have been alone again. He didn’t speak but stepped toward the bed and reached one hand toward her arm which was stretched across  the bed. Her skin tingled with the anticipation of his touch. It had been so long…………..

But the touch never came and as the morning pulled her out of her slumber and back to the painful reality, she felt the emptiness of the room reflected in her heart. She knew it was a dream. For a moment it had been as real as anything she had ever felt. She even tried to force herself back to sleep. But it was too late, the euphoria stolen away by the cruel sun. Her arm was still stretched out to his side of the bed. She moved her head to his pillow and inhaled. But it no longer smelled of him. It hadn’t for some time and not even the vividness of the dream brought that back.

Second Deployment
Dec 13, 2008
0600