Even though, at times, I can still feel the coldness of rock bottom as I'm only dangling a few feet from it, I didn't actually realise things could actually get worse! And as I drop, my back cracks the cold stone of rock bottom and I plummet lower!
Arguments with H are never easy. My life, so it seemed at the time, was the worst it could have been! Accusations of being a cheat. They cut, they hurt, I bled! Maybe I say things at time without actually thinking of how the person on the receiving end thinks of it. A cheat I am not! And considering I was cheated on, badly, by my ex I just simply could not do that to someone I loved.
Amongst the accusational texts I had a missed call from a number unrecognised on my phone. "Nice try" I thought, I genuinely thought H had tried calling me off someone elses number to catch me out.
*BLEEP*
Aha, a voicemail. I called my mailbox, a mans voice spoke. "Kirsty, this is Uncle Tony". My stomach knotted, I knew what was coming but prayed it was something else. "Your dads had an accident, he's in intensive care. He went into a diabetic coma and was rushed in this afternoon after he was found" he said. I was choked, my eyes streamed and I could not breath. He's going to die!
I inhaled fast. I could not hide my fear. I thanked my uncle for calling, he was apologetic for baring bad news. I called my mum in a panic to come have the children for me. The children watched tv unaware of the trance I was in as I sat at the top of my stairs, rocking myself and crying hysterically. J came out as he could hear me crying "Get downstairs" I screamed at him. He scampered off, I felt awful but could not move or call to him.
If I call H now will he think I'm making this up for the sob story card?! I called him hysterically, I tried breathing to explain what had happened. I found it hard to say the words and broke down. H was granted a rail pass and said he'd get on the first train back to Wales. Did he care, or was he purely forfilling his husband role but with no feelings? The latter was my thought.
My mum turned up, she would not let me drive in the state that I was in. I text my friend to come look after the children so my mum could take me in.
Was my dad going to die?! Was my husband going to leave me?! I grasped to the side of the pit I was in "Please Lord, do not let me fall further" I thought.
My friend arrived, with trembling arms I hugged her. She reassured me best she could, and my mum guided me to her car. The fear inside me grew, but I was with my mum, she had seen me cry but now I had to be a big girl.
I saw the hospital, my stomach flipped and I thought I was going to faint. He was in there right now in a coma, on a ventilator! My mum squeezed my knee. I smiled at her with watery eyes.
She held my hand as I walked towards the hospital. We followed signs to ICU (Intensive Care Unit). We rang the bell, I have never been so scared in my life. We were not allowed in to see him as they were running tests. The nurse spoke to me but I heard nothing. I felt my mums arms around me, I felt numb, I responded as best I could.
We walked to the café, slowly. "Tea please mum" I said. She paid, I found a seat. We sat by the window, we were about 3 storeys high and could see the helicopter landing spot and A&E. I sipped my tea, the cleaner sang as she buffed the floor "...any dream will do...". Joseph and his technicoloured dream coat. I moaned to my mum about the cleaners horrendous voice, try to lighten the mood. My mum laughed but still looked at me with concern. I was hurting, but I knew she was too. Afterall she once loved this man. "He's going to be ok right?" I asked. "I don't know dear" my mother responded. She forced a smile at me, I forced one back.
After an hour, or maybe two, of waiting we were allowed in. Once again the nurse spoke as she led me to his bedside, I heard nothing. We haulted at the foot of his bed, the nurse explained what was happening to him, or what had happened and what they were doing with him. I heard nothing. I looked at my dads lifeless body on the bed. He had a towel wrapped around his head to keep him warm. He had pipes down his throat and tubes going in everywhere. The machinery around him was full of lights, sometimes it bleeped. Silent tears rolled down my face. I reached under the sheet to grasp his hand. His skin was as cold as ice. I looked at him, I looked at the machines. I looked at the towel wrapped around his head, I giggled. "If *H* was here he may mistake you as Taliban and shoot you dead" I whispered. H was on his way, I longed for his touch and reassurance.
My mother and I sat there just looking at him for a long time...
"Please be ok" I text my dads mobile phone.
Sunday, 11 December 2011
Wednesday, 16 November 2011
A DARK CLOUD
The sun doesn't always shine in my life.
I'm not even quite sure how to write this post, or what to put in it to be honest. If I ramble I apologise!
When I'm happy I feel like I'm on top of the world and nothing can stop me! I feel more like me, and I can make jokes and laugh. A real laugh! Why can't I always feel that way!
H and I had a fantastic weekend. After three weeks apart it was so good to see him! I had craved his touch, his voice. I was so happy to sit on my sofa and snuggle up to my man. I was happy!
This may sound silly, but I felt so chuffed when H asked me to go to golf with him. He's always said he plays golf to get away from things to clear his mind. The things he used to have to get away from was me. The thought that he actually wanted to spend that time with me made me so happy. He said he'd hire a buggy and we'd drive around the course, and have some good chats. Secretly I knew he wanted to show off his golf skills, haha! But he wanted to spend time with me, serious time!
We drove up the windy road to the Celtic Manor. I'd dropped him off here before, but I'd never been excited for that. I was excited this time! I was dressed up in some navy trousers, pink Lyle & Scott jumper and a pink camp. I looked like a golfer, so at least I fitted in! Armed with a picnic I jumped into the buggy. Eeeek! This was going to be awesome! H played whilst I watched, beaming with smiles! We shared giggles, kisses and I helped him find his balls. His golf balls that is!! He only lost it once, on the first hole!
It got dark too fast, so we only reached the 16th hole. But those 4 hours were brilliant. Some H and I time that was so needed after three weeks of struggling without him.
He had a long weekend home, and didn't have to leave until the Tuesday. Now it's Wednesday. It's horrible sat here without him. It may have only been five nights with him home, but I enjoyed cooking his dinner. I enjoyed watching our programmes cwtched up on the sofa (cwtched is welsh, shall I say cuddled up on the sofa).
Now that I'm alone the dark cloud rolls in. I sit here with eyes filling up, and a trembling lip. Why is it that when I'm alone all I can think about is Afghanistan, and about how it will be when he's deployed in four months time.
When the dark cloud hangs over my head it's hard to smile, it's hard to be happy, to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Curling up in a ball sounds good, but I know I have to press on. Do the dishes, fix the kids lunches for tomorrow, and get myself to bed at a reasonable hour!
H sends me soppy text messages, and they do make me smile. After three and a half years of being together he still brightens my mood with just a text. He's my leaning post. The dark cloud has a sun shining behind it, that sun never goes, it only hides. It's trying to shine through. Maybe tomorrow it will blind me!
I'm not even quite sure how to write this post, or what to put in it to be honest. If I ramble I apologise!
When I'm happy I feel like I'm on top of the world and nothing can stop me! I feel more like me, and I can make jokes and laugh. A real laugh! Why can't I always feel that way!
H and I had a fantastic weekend. After three weeks apart it was so good to see him! I had craved his touch, his voice. I was so happy to sit on my sofa and snuggle up to my man. I was happy!
This may sound silly, but I felt so chuffed when H asked me to go to golf with him. He's always said he plays golf to get away from things to clear his mind. The things he used to have to get away from was me. The thought that he actually wanted to spend that time with me made me so happy. He said he'd hire a buggy and we'd drive around the course, and have some good chats. Secretly I knew he wanted to show off his golf skills, haha! But he wanted to spend time with me, serious time!
We drove up the windy road to the Celtic Manor. I'd dropped him off here before, but I'd never been excited for that. I was excited this time! I was dressed up in some navy trousers, pink Lyle & Scott jumper and a pink camp. I looked like a golfer, so at least I fitted in! Armed with a picnic I jumped into the buggy. Eeeek! This was going to be awesome! H played whilst I watched, beaming with smiles! We shared giggles, kisses and I helped him find his balls. His golf balls that is!! He only lost it once, on the first hole!
It got dark too fast, so we only reached the 16th hole. But those 4 hours were brilliant. Some H and I time that was so needed after three weeks of struggling without him.
He had a long weekend home, and didn't have to leave until the Tuesday. Now it's Wednesday. It's horrible sat here without him. It may have only been five nights with him home, but I enjoyed cooking his dinner. I enjoyed watching our programmes cwtched up on the sofa (cwtched is welsh, shall I say cuddled up on the sofa).
Now that I'm alone the dark cloud rolls in. I sit here with eyes filling up, and a trembling lip. Why is it that when I'm alone all I can think about is Afghanistan, and about how it will be when he's deployed in four months time.
When the dark cloud hangs over my head it's hard to smile, it's hard to be happy, to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Curling up in a ball sounds good, but I know I have to press on. Do the dishes, fix the kids lunches for tomorrow, and get myself to bed at a reasonable hour!
H sends me soppy text messages, and they do make me smile. After three and a half years of being together he still brightens my mood with just a text. He's my leaning post. The dark cloud has a sun shining behind it, that sun never goes, it only hides. It's trying to shine through. Maybe tomorrow it will blind me!
Monday, 24 October 2011
THE ONLY WAY IS UP
I suppose I have to tell H about my depression, as he will be wondering why I'm popping pills every day! I did not want him to think or feel that because of this he has to get back with me. I do not need sympathy and I want him to want to be with me, not to feel that he has to because he feels bad!
I rang him in tears, he sounded genuinely concerned. It was nice to hear that reaction in his voice, in an odd way. "I've been diagnosed with depression". Saying that out loud to a loved one did not sound right. I felt like a nutter! I explained everything to H. I also explained how I felt about the situation. "All I want is to be happy again, I really love you. I need you to want me, to love me. Please don't give me false hope just for feeling sorry for me".
"I've had a lot of time to think. I want to help you, I want to stick by you. I do love you. I've realised something, I've realised that I've fallen into a pit too. I just don't seem to care about much at all since Afghanistan. I mean, sometimes I care, but sometimes I feel nothing. I've spoken to one of the boys, who lost his marriage be use of this. This won't happen to us. We still have stepping stones, but at least we've both hit realisation." He really did care, I thought. Hearing those words was like music to my ears.
I started my medication. H wanted to come home to me there and then, unfortunately it was a Wednesday. When the day came that he came home, he kissed me. That's all I'd wanted, to feel that kiss! The only way was up!
As H and I walked across the stepping stones, holding hands and guiding each other, I waited patiently for the medication to kick in. Two weeks my doctor had said, it had been two weeks! The crying had stopped, but I could still feel the cold stone of the bare floor of rock bottom. H holding my hand warmed my body, but the anxiety within me sometimes took over my mind!
My follow up appointment was booked to see the doctor. I told him the crying had stopped, but I was very anxious about silly things, like going to church, going shopping. I felt sick when it came to things I had to do as routine. The doctor has upped my medication, doubled the dose!
Seven weeks on the medication.
I still have down days and moments of weakness. I've started crying at my desk in work. Sometimes I know what's triggered me off, sometimes I just cry. H has turned back into my rock. He knows I don't want sympathy, but he knows when to hold his comments and hug me.
H's next tour of Afghanistan is nibbling at my mind constantly. He's being sent out a month earlier now, and I feel stupid moaning, I feel stupid crying, but I can't help it. We make plans for when he returns, but the thought "what if" plays on my mind. I try to shake it off but it takes hold of me and I crumble.
H loves me, and I love him. We are back on the right path, and thankfully, together we are pulling each other through.
Think of a wonderful thought!
I rang him in tears, he sounded genuinely concerned. It was nice to hear that reaction in his voice, in an odd way. "I've been diagnosed with depression". Saying that out loud to a loved one did not sound right. I felt like a nutter! I explained everything to H. I also explained how I felt about the situation. "All I want is to be happy again, I really love you. I need you to want me, to love me. Please don't give me false hope just for feeling sorry for me".
"I've had a lot of time to think. I want to help you, I want to stick by you. I do love you. I've realised something, I've realised that I've fallen into a pit too. I just don't seem to care about much at all since Afghanistan. I mean, sometimes I care, but sometimes I feel nothing. I've spoken to one of the boys, who lost his marriage be use of this. This won't happen to us. We still have stepping stones, but at least we've both hit realisation." He really did care, I thought. Hearing those words was like music to my ears.
I started my medication. H wanted to come home to me there and then, unfortunately it was a Wednesday. When the day came that he came home, he kissed me. That's all I'd wanted, to feel that kiss! The only way was up!
As H and I walked across the stepping stones, holding hands and guiding each other, I waited patiently for the medication to kick in. Two weeks my doctor had said, it had been two weeks! The crying had stopped, but I could still feel the cold stone of the bare floor of rock bottom. H holding my hand warmed my body, but the anxiety within me sometimes took over my mind!
My follow up appointment was booked to see the doctor. I told him the crying had stopped, but I was very anxious about silly things, like going to church, going shopping. I felt sick when it came to things I had to do as routine. The doctor has upped my medication, doubled the dose!
Seven weeks on the medication.
I still have down days and moments of weakness. I've started crying at my desk in work. Sometimes I know what's triggered me off, sometimes I just cry. H has turned back into my rock. He knows I don't want sympathy, but he knows when to hold his comments and hug me.
H's next tour of Afghanistan is nibbling at my mind constantly. He's being sent out a month earlier now, and I feel stupid moaning, I feel stupid crying, but I can't help it. We make plans for when he returns, but the thought "what if" plays on my mind. I try to shake it off but it takes hold of me and I crumble.
H loves me, and I love him. We are back on the right path, and thankfully, together we are pulling each other through.
Think of a wonderful thought!
Tuesday, 4 October 2011
ROCK BOTTOM
Following my previous blog post, I am sure you're all fully aware that I struggled with adjusting to H being home on his last leave at home.
The Wednesday after this leave Family Day at camp was scheduled. I'd planned to stay with the only wife from the battalion that I was close to. I was excited to see her, but my mind was still confused as to how I felt about going to Family Day and putting on my smiles for everyone.
I drove the familiar route to the battalions previous barracks, as my friend (N) had not moved to the new location. I started my drive late, as I'd been working all day on the Tuesday. The route was tedious. I had driven it so many times I'm sure I could do it with my eyes closed! I set my iPhone to shuffle and linked it up to my car. I had been driving for a couple of hours when I reached Reading. My junction was coming up. The song changed, on came Snow Patrol - You Could Be Happy. My stomach did somersaults, and it was most definitely full of butterflies! The emotion and raw feeling of my relationship hit me. I held back the tears as I had the children in the back. Whenever I used to listen to this song I used to feel a bit smug, thinking that my relationship was perfect and nothing could take that away! How did I find myself in this current, so real, rut?! I felt like I want to drive to my husband and shake him. I had not spoken to him properly since he left to go back to work. I craved for some loving words, a loving text. All I wanted was a reminder that he did love me, and that I did love him. I knew the love was in me, but it felt suppressed. My mouth was dry and my body ached. That song, that album flooded my mind with the past. The perfect past. I could not pin point when we had started pushing each other away.
I got to N's house. All the emotion from hearing that song pushed to the back of my head. I was just being a drama queen, just being silly.
I was extremely anxious about seeing H, the children on the other hand were very very excited! Having never been to the new barracks it was stressful enough getting there. Time to put on my smiles! H gave me a kiss upon arrival, what had I been anxious about? The day went fabulously and we had a great laugh.
The day somehow turned sour. As N and I were getting ready to leave, H disappeared. I went to his room to see where he was. He sat on his bed watching Dragons Den, obviously annoyed at something, but what? 'Great, here we go' I thought!
It seemed that I had apparently had attitude and I was always moody. H continued to say that I am never happy anymore, and refused (in his drunken state) to walk me and the children to the car. My blood boiled. How dare he ruin my perfect day? I could not see in any way that I had been in a bad mood or had attitude.
I stayed with N that night again. After putting the boys to bed we stayed up and chatted. I cried. My mind and sanity was fragile and I had no idea what was going on with my relationship. I worked myself up into such a state that I made myself ill, drained and deflated. My energy levels pointed at zero.
Still in a state of confusion I drove back to Wales. Having not spoken to H my situation had not been made any clearer in my mind. Things went from bad to worse. After a night out with a friend, H came home in a horrid frame of mind. I had sat up all night crying, not knowing what was going on or what was to come.
I wanted to talk, I needed to talk. It seemed that H was not quite ready to talk, or even that he wanted to. I felt sick with worry, and anxiety. My mind was racing at 100mph. Before I knew it I found his wedding ring in my hand, and I heard the words "We've tried, and we've been through this so many times. It's not working. You're not the girl I fell in love with, you're miserable all the time".
I could not breathe! What? How? Why? My head spun.
For the rest of the weekend I stayed out of his way. What could I say? I was convinced he was a nutter, delusional! Of course I was happy. It was him! The time came for him to go back to work. I was too upset, too hurt to attempt to rectify anything. I was numb. We both agreed that we needed space. He needed time to reflect and see that he is the one with the problem. How dare he think this was me! We decided on no contact unless necessary. Reflection does not need to be clouded over with negative thoughts or desperate words. He hugged me before he left. I did not want to let go, in fear that this may be the end and this may be my final hug. I did love him, extremely. I just had no idea what was going on.
He left. I cried. Then I cried some more.
I was convinced that H would reflect and see his errors and would come back. I had to hold onto something, and that was my something. I could feel the love inside me heating up. It was still there, I knew it was, but had H's gone out?
Days passed and I continued to cry. I cannot describe this feeling other than numb. If I wasn't crying, I was empty. He made me whole, could he not see this? I went into work, I cried. I had not eaten properly for days, almost a week. I could not sleep. I was empty and numb, surely I had no tears left to cry? They continued to come.
People started to worry. I started to worry. What was going to happen? It had been almost a week now. I still could not eat, restless nights became the norm. I had had enough, but refused to call H in fear that I would push him further away.
I decided to reflect myself. I tried clearing my mind of the emptiness. Sounds silly right?
I sat there and realisation hit me. I was miserable all the time. I cannot remember my last day of feeling happy. Had a slowly sunk into this dip? I felt like such a fool. "Go and reflect" I'd said. "You need help" I'd said. "Just admit it's you, you have a problem" I'd said.
Suddenly I realised I needed help. Maybe it was me. I knew it was a definite that I needed help sleeping. My mind raced. I spoke to a friend. It was time to get someone elses point of view, someone else who knows first hand how I am feeling. I was still numb. My body was lifeless.
I telephoned the doctor, in hope of an appointment. 'If I could get one decent nights sleep' I thought. Sat in the waiting room I felt a bit silly. I felt fine. Why was I going to the doctors? I'm going to come across as a nutter if I go in there and there's nothing wrong with me. I had not cried all morning. There was nothing wrong with me.
My name came up on the screen. In I went. At the first question my eyes filled up. I tried to talk. I had felt like this for so long that it was hard to believe I had a problem, that it wasn't just the way I was. The doctor was excellent. Talked me through everything. Most he knew, due to my previous breakdown in the doctors chair with a different doctor merely a few months before. After a quick assessment, a few questions, a few more tears and trembling voiced answers, the doctor realised this was not a recent change. I had depression. My problem is that I am so used to being able to put my smiles on. I exhaust myself. Unfortunately by doing this I had managed to push the people closest to me away. It was time to accept help!
The Wednesday after this leave Family Day at camp was scheduled. I'd planned to stay with the only wife from the battalion that I was close to. I was excited to see her, but my mind was still confused as to how I felt about going to Family Day and putting on my smiles for everyone.
I drove the familiar route to the battalions previous barracks, as my friend (N) had not moved to the new location. I started my drive late, as I'd been working all day on the Tuesday. The route was tedious. I had driven it so many times I'm sure I could do it with my eyes closed! I set my iPhone to shuffle and linked it up to my car. I had been driving for a couple of hours when I reached Reading. My junction was coming up. The song changed, on came Snow Patrol - You Could Be Happy. My stomach did somersaults, and it was most definitely full of butterflies! The emotion and raw feeling of my relationship hit me. I held back the tears as I had the children in the back. Whenever I used to listen to this song I used to feel a bit smug, thinking that my relationship was perfect and nothing could take that away! How did I find myself in this current, so real, rut?! I felt like I want to drive to my husband and shake him. I had not spoken to him properly since he left to go back to work. I craved for some loving words, a loving text. All I wanted was a reminder that he did love me, and that I did love him. I knew the love was in me, but it felt suppressed. My mouth was dry and my body ached. That song, that album flooded my mind with the past. The perfect past. I could not pin point when we had started pushing each other away.
I got to N's house. All the emotion from hearing that song pushed to the back of my head. I was just being a drama queen, just being silly.
I was extremely anxious about seeing H, the children on the other hand were very very excited! Having never been to the new barracks it was stressful enough getting there. Time to put on my smiles! H gave me a kiss upon arrival, what had I been anxious about? The day went fabulously and we had a great laugh.
The day somehow turned sour. As N and I were getting ready to leave, H disappeared. I went to his room to see where he was. He sat on his bed watching Dragons Den, obviously annoyed at something, but what? 'Great, here we go' I thought!
It seemed that I had apparently had attitude and I was always moody. H continued to say that I am never happy anymore, and refused (in his drunken state) to walk me and the children to the car. My blood boiled. How dare he ruin my perfect day? I could not see in any way that I had been in a bad mood or had attitude.
I stayed with N that night again. After putting the boys to bed we stayed up and chatted. I cried. My mind and sanity was fragile and I had no idea what was going on with my relationship. I worked myself up into such a state that I made myself ill, drained and deflated. My energy levels pointed at zero.
Still in a state of confusion I drove back to Wales. Having not spoken to H my situation had not been made any clearer in my mind. Things went from bad to worse. After a night out with a friend, H came home in a horrid frame of mind. I had sat up all night crying, not knowing what was going on or what was to come.
I wanted to talk, I needed to talk. It seemed that H was not quite ready to talk, or even that he wanted to. I felt sick with worry, and anxiety. My mind was racing at 100mph. Before I knew it I found his wedding ring in my hand, and I heard the words "We've tried, and we've been through this so many times. It's not working. You're not the girl I fell in love with, you're miserable all the time".
I could not breathe! What? How? Why? My head spun.
For the rest of the weekend I stayed out of his way. What could I say? I was convinced he was a nutter, delusional! Of course I was happy. It was him! The time came for him to go back to work. I was too upset, too hurt to attempt to rectify anything. I was numb. We both agreed that we needed space. He needed time to reflect and see that he is the one with the problem. How dare he think this was me! We decided on no contact unless necessary. Reflection does not need to be clouded over with negative thoughts or desperate words. He hugged me before he left. I did not want to let go, in fear that this may be the end and this may be my final hug. I did love him, extremely. I just had no idea what was going on.
He left. I cried. Then I cried some more.
I was convinced that H would reflect and see his errors and would come back. I had to hold onto something, and that was my something. I could feel the love inside me heating up. It was still there, I knew it was, but had H's gone out?
Days passed and I continued to cry. I cannot describe this feeling other than numb. If I wasn't crying, I was empty. He made me whole, could he not see this? I went into work, I cried. I had not eaten properly for days, almost a week. I could not sleep. I was empty and numb, surely I had no tears left to cry? They continued to come.
People started to worry. I started to worry. What was going to happen? It had been almost a week now. I still could not eat, restless nights became the norm. I had had enough, but refused to call H in fear that I would push him further away.
I decided to reflect myself. I tried clearing my mind of the emptiness. Sounds silly right?
I sat there and realisation hit me. I was miserable all the time. I cannot remember my last day of feeling happy. Had a slowly sunk into this dip? I felt like such a fool. "Go and reflect" I'd said. "You need help" I'd said. "Just admit it's you, you have a problem" I'd said.
Suddenly I realised I needed help. Maybe it was me. I knew it was a definite that I needed help sleeping. My mind raced. I spoke to a friend. It was time to get someone elses point of view, someone else who knows first hand how I am feeling. I was still numb. My body was lifeless.
I telephoned the doctor, in hope of an appointment. 'If I could get one decent nights sleep' I thought. Sat in the waiting room I felt a bit silly. I felt fine. Why was I going to the doctors? I'm going to come across as a nutter if I go in there and there's nothing wrong with me. I had not cried all morning. There was nothing wrong with me.
My name came up on the screen. In I went. At the first question my eyes filled up. I tried to talk. I had felt like this for so long that it was hard to believe I had a problem, that it wasn't just the way I was. The doctor was excellent. Talked me through everything. Most he knew, due to my previous breakdown in the doctors chair with a different doctor merely a few months before. After a quick assessment, a few questions, a few more tears and trembling voiced answers, the doctor realised this was not a recent change. I had depression. My problem is that I am so used to being able to put my smiles on. I exhaust myself. Unfortunately by doing this I had managed to push the people closest to me away. It was time to accept help!
Monday, 29 August 2011
BRAIN IN A KNOT
So today marks the last day of H's three week summer leave. In roughly seven months he will be leaving for Afghanistan. It was this time before his last tour that we met, seven months before he left. So, last time we were wooing each other, we were in the honeymoon period. This time we are well established, we're married, we have a gorgeous son. Last time I had J, but our relationship was mainly just H and I. Right now my mind is pickled as to how I feel about H's next tour. Now his summer leave is over it's time for him to train himself (or for the army to train him) into a killing machine. I feel like this time around there will be no wooing, I'm going to be put on a shelf and be picked up when I'm needed for a quick reality fix. Let's hope my feelings are wrong.
I understand that I'm not only married to H, I'm married to the army too. However I do not want the both to merge when it comes to my relationship, I am married to H not an Action Man.
This leave has been a different one. It has been great to see H with the children, there were Sergeant Major moments, but when I see the three of them together my heart aches. The children get used to him being home then he disappears again. Poof! Like a fairy God mother in a pantomime, "He's behind you" - oh no wait, he was, now he's gone.
If I ask T where Daddy is, his response is "Daddy gone, out the door".
As for H and I this leave, it has been very weird. The first week was lovely, but it quickly turns into that statement you hear so often from people who have been on holiday - "A week is too short, two weeks is too long". My oh my, this leave was three weeks. The amount of times I prayed for patience and strength. I found it very hard to adjust to having someone in the house every day, someone who doesn't go to bed before you, therefore eliminating your chill down time. I use that time to watch mind numbing TV. A time when I can do nothing. No conversation.
The result of this made me feel a bit like a sardine, even though there were only two of us in the room. I felt a bit suffocated.
It seems that he just flutters into my life, and expects me to adjust straight away, then he just flutters away again. Like the moment a butterfly lands on you, you're all anxious and scared to move just in case it flies away. You heart pumps, then when the butterfly's gone, it is like you have never even been touched.
Whilst H is getting under my feet, all I keep thinking is that he's going back to work soon. Then when the day comes that he's off I hurt. I have wasted my time with trying to adjust. Why was it so hard this time? I never wanted to become on of "those" wives, the moaning ones. But I couldn't hold it in any more. I went to a friends house and just let it out. That really helped. We shared experiences, even though are partners are in different regiments. It accured to me how important it is to know people in the same boat as yourself. I went back to H feeling quite refreshed, but not yet adjusted.
When I feel like I'm finally adjusting, and my house is no longer a pit, and that pile of army things that came with him is sorted, he decides to flutter away. Why does it take so long to adjust? Did I actually adjust, or did I just relax at the thought of him going back to work? Who knows, but either way I hope it happens sooner with his next leave time. I need to prepare myself for his return a little better, none of my friends have to prepare for their husbands company! This life never gets easier, even when they're just in this country.
I understand that I'm not only married to H, I'm married to the army too. However I do not want the both to merge when it comes to my relationship, I am married to H not an Action Man.
This leave has been a different one. It has been great to see H with the children, there were Sergeant Major moments, but when I see the three of them together my heart aches. The children get used to him being home then he disappears again. Poof! Like a fairy God mother in a pantomime, "He's behind you" - oh no wait, he was, now he's gone.
If I ask T where Daddy is, his response is "Daddy gone, out the door".
As for H and I this leave, it has been very weird. The first week was lovely, but it quickly turns into that statement you hear so often from people who have been on holiday - "A week is too short, two weeks is too long". My oh my, this leave was three weeks. The amount of times I prayed for patience and strength. I found it very hard to adjust to having someone in the house every day, someone who doesn't go to bed before you, therefore eliminating your chill down time. I use that time to watch mind numbing TV. A time when I can do nothing. No conversation.
The result of this made me feel a bit like a sardine, even though there were only two of us in the room. I felt a bit suffocated.
It seems that he just flutters into my life, and expects me to adjust straight away, then he just flutters away again. Like the moment a butterfly lands on you, you're all anxious and scared to move just in case it flies away. You heart pumps, then when the butterfly's gone, it is like you have never even been touched.
Whilst H is getting under my feet, all I keep thinking is that he's going back to work soon. Then when the day comes that he's off I hurt. I have wasted my time with trying to adjust. Why was it so hard this time? I never wanted to become on of "those" wives, the moaning ones. But I couldn't hold it in any more. I went to a friends house and just let it out. That really helped. We shared experiences, even though are partners are in different regiments. It accured to me how important it is to know people in the same boat as yourself. I went back to H feeling quite refreshed, but not yet adjusted.
When I feel like I'm finally adjusting, and my house is no longer a pit, and that pile of army things that came with him is sorted, he decides to flutter away. Why does it take so long to adjust? Did I actually adjust, or did I just relax at the thought of him going back to work? Who knows, but either way I hope it happens sooner with his next leave time. I need to prepare myself for his return a little better, none of my friends have to prepare for their husbands company! This life never gets easier, even when they're just in this country.
Sunday, 14 August 2011
DO I EXIST?
My opinions change often with the option of whether to live in an Army house (pad) near my husbands base. It was never an issue before H & I got married, because it wasn't an option, and I had firm beliefs that it was a no-go option and I would never move.
I do however find it hard at times when I talk to the one friend I do have that lives in a pad. She talks about coffee mornings, and has the option to go on little trips provided by the battalion. I get nothing, I often wonder if the Welsh Guards even know I exist!
I often feel very alone living at home in Wales. The three girls I do talk to are now ex-army partners as their husbands/boyfriends have left the army following the battalions last deployment. I've started getting closer to one of the army girlfriends, but now her partner is leaving the army just before the battalions next tour.
The anticipation of H leaving for Afghanistan again is horrible, never mind the thought that this time I will be alone with no-one around me who actually truly understands. Sure I have my friends and my family, but will they be hurting when I'm hurting, will they understand the hurt? And then there are those moments when I have to bite my lip whilst I listen to them tell me that they know what I'm going through because they're husbands/boyfriends go away on holidays for a week and tell me how hard it is for them. All I hear is "blah blah blah". I have to hold back from screaming "ATLEAST YOU KNOW HE'S NOT GETTING SHOT AT". They compare the fact that they may die on the journey over on the plane. What? So H doesn't also go on a plane to get to AFGHANISTAN where he is also a target to be killed?! ARGH! I just smile and nod.
At least with fellow army wives I can say "I'm sorry, I'm not in the mood to be around company" and they will understand and not get offended. A lot of my friends no longer call or text me to see if I want to go out, or even to see if I want a coffee. They are the friends that don't understand and never will. I suppose I'm a little grateful for their lack of interest in our friendship, why do I want people like that in my life?
I am very blessed to have found life-long friendships in my church family. I can be myself with them and none of them judge me. They pop over just to see if I'm ok, and if I need any help. They sit and pray with me, they watch me cry, they watch my laugh. They may not understand what I'm going through, but they know how to make me feel that little bit better, especially when they come over with cake!
My family are ok at understanding, but they have their own lives to deal with. Having become an only child at the age of 14 I know that my mum is always there no matter what. She cooks for me when I'm low to ensure I eat, she takes the children out when I need a break, and every Monday she takes J to his karate lesson because I can't as T is in bed. But even to my mum I can put on a front, and smile when I'm dying inside. This is because I don't want to hurt her by seeing me cry. I know that sounds silly, but that's the way my mind works sometimes.
During H's last tour my good friend A was still an army wife. We often met up for lunch or dinner. We were both pregnant, so neither of us wanted to go to the pub and forget our situations. We would just waddle around! It was nice. This time around I will not have my fellow waddler, her husband is now working on civvy street. Yes she can relate and relive her experiences, but this tour will be a different experience to last, can I take her opinion as comforting? Time will see.
One reason it took me so long to up and leave J's father was due to loneliness. And then I started this life, a life full of loneliness. Fortunately it is also a life of pride. Had this life been with a "regular" guy I would've booted him out by now. Never home, out with the boys during the week, only seeing his children at weekends. I may have chosen to date a soldier, but it was a matter of weeks before I fell in love with him, it was not a conscious decision to live this life, it was a decision made by my heart.
My reason for not wanting to move into a pad is because I cannot bare the thought of moving my children from school to school everytime the battalion move. They will have no "proper" friends, and to me that way of life is not stable enough for a child. In those moments when I'm trying to persuade myself that it will be a fun life for the children I then remember where my husband is currently based. The surrounding area to my husbands camp is 100% not suitable for a woman who is often left on her own, never mind bringing up children there.
I live in hope that one day the army will recognise me as my husbands wife, and will involve me so I no longer feel on the outside of the circle. Army life is definitely a bubble.
I do however find it hard at times when I talk to the one friend I do have that lives in a pad. She talks about coffee mornings, and has the option to go on little trips provided by the battalion. I get nothing, I often wonder if the Welsh Guards even know I exist!
I often feel very alone living at home in Wales. The three girls I do talk to are now ex-army partners as their husbands/boyfriends have left the army following the battalions last deployment. I've started getting closer to one of the army girlfriends, but now her partner is leaving the army just before the battalions next tour.
The anticipation of H leaving for Afghanistan again is horrible, never mind the thought that this time I will be alone with no-one around me who actually truly understands. Sure I have my friends and my family, but will they be hurting when I'm hurting, will they understand the hurt? And then there are those moments when I have to bite my lip whilst I listen to them tell me that they know what I'm going through because they're husbands/boyfriends go away on holidays for a week and tell me how hard it is for them. All I hear is "blah blah blah". I have to hold back from screaming "ATLEAST YOU KNOW HE'S NOT GETTING SHOT AT". They compare the fact that they may die on the journey over on the plane. What? So H doesn't also go on a plane to get to AFGHANISTAN where he is also a target to be killed?! ARGH! I just smile and nod.
At least with fellow army wives I can say "I'm sorry, I'm not in the mood to be around company" and they will understand and not get offended. A lot of my friends no longer call or text me to see if I want to go out, or even to see if I want a coffee. They are the friends that don't understand and never will. I suppose I'm a little grateful for their lack of interest in our friendship, why do I want people like that in my life?
I am very blessed to have found life-long friendships in my church family. I can be myself with them and none of them judge me. They pop over just to see if I'm ok, and if I need any help. They sit and pray with me, they watch me cry, they watch my laugh. They may not understand what I'm going through, but they know how to make me feel that little bit better, especially when they come over with cake!
My family are ok at understanding, but they have their own lives to deal with. Having become an only child at the age of 14 I know that my mum is always there no matter what. She cooks for me when I'm low to ensure I eat, she takes the children out when I need a break, and every Monday she takes J to his karate lesson because I can't as T is in bed. But even to my mum I can put on a front, and smile when I'm dying inside. This is because I don't want to hurt her by seeing me cry. I know that sounds silly, but that's the way my mind works sometimes.
During H's last tour my good friend A was still an army wife. We often met up for lunch or dinner. We were both pregnant, so neither of us wanted to go to the pub and forget our situations. We would just waddle around! It was nice. This time around I will not have my fellow waddler, her husband is now working on civvy street. Yes she can relate and relive her experiences, but this tour will be a different experience to last, can I take her opinion as comforting? Time will see.
One reason it took me so long to up and leave J's father was due to loneliness. And then I started this life, a life full of loneliness. Fortunately it is also a life of pride. Had this life been with a "regular" guy I would've booted him out by now. Never home, out with the boys during the week, only seeing his children at weekends. I may have chosen to date a soldier, but it was a matter of weeks before I fell in love with him, it was not a conscious decision to live this life, it was a decision made by my heart.
My reason for not wanting to move into a pad is because I cannot bare the thought of moving my children from school to school everytime the battalion move. They will have no "proper" friends, and to me that way of life is not stable enough for a child. In those moments when I'm trying to persuade myself that it will be a fun life for the children I then remember where my husband is currently based. The surrounding area to my husbands camp is 100% not suitable for a woman who is often left on her own, never mind bringing up children there.
I live in hope that one day the army will recognise me as my husbands wife, and will involve me so I no longer feel on the outside of the circle. Army life is definitely a bubble.
Wednesday, 10 August 2011
THE ONE YEAR OF MARRIAGE MILESTONE
I woke up one Friday morning, realising that in just over a week I would have been a married woman for a year. Wow! Time goes so fast, I couldn't believe it. I sat there and thought "One year is Paper gift, right?! Divorce papers?". That made me chuckle. I didn't want to buy him paper, or a book, or even photographs. I pondered a while, then the perfect gift popped into my head, the gift required a trip into Cardiff. I knew which shop sold it as H and I had walked past and he'd commented on wanting to get it for his dad, even though I knew he wanted it for himself!
Penderyn Whisky. H has a history with this whisky, and you will now guess why he wanted to buy it for his dad. In H's youth his father had been given a rugby ball shaped bottle of Penderyn whisky. There were only ever 250 of these bottles made. His father had no intention of drinking it, but kept it on a shelf in the kitchen.
After a night out with the boys, H and a friend arrived home slightly tipsy (well probably extremely drunk, H has hollow legs!). They thought it would be a good idea to open and drink H's fathers whisky. They drank it all. I'm not sure what consequences this action created but I'm 100% sure H's dad wasn't very happy the next morning.
J was out with a friend, so I went into Cardiff with T on my own. The first place I went when I got into the city was the Welsh shop that sold the perfect gift. I headed straight for the whisky counter. The guy talked me through the gift boxes they sold, and whilst he was doing so T was shouting and pointing "Daddy, Daddy!". I looked over the man's shoulder who was serving me, and hanging on the wall in a dark wooden frame was a picture of a young boy wearing a bright red tunic. I scanned the picture, counting the buttons on the tunic. "That's not Daddy, he doesn't have 5 buttons". T looked at me and back at the picture. The man behind the counter said "Oh that's my nephew, he's a Grenadier Guard". I explained that my husband was a Welsh Guard and the man proceeded to ask if he'd ever been in Afghanistan. We spoke for a while, then he looked at me and said "His mother has said if he ever goes back it would kill her, too much stress. She was petrified whilst he was there". So many emotions flooded my head in waves. I smiled and responded with "Yes it is quite difficult, but you just have to accept it I guess". I paid for my purchase and left. This guy had me thinking, H and I had got married, and H had met Tomas, but it could've been so different. I was extremely blessed to have H in my life, and blessed to know that God is faithful and protected him whilst deployed. Talking to that guy also reminded me of the life I had chose. I know my decision was the right one, however hard it gets. Within the last year we have had our difficulties. The first year of marriage isn't all about holding hands and skipping through meadows.
Looking back on our year of Mr & Mrs is a strange one, what can I see that has changed? We still lived in the same house, I still only saw my husband at weekends. Life doesn't change.
I look into the future, into our next year and the things we will face. Another tour, Herrick 16. It loomed like a dark cloud, it crept into my mind every silent second. In work I would hear a song from his last tour and my eyes would fill up, the anxiety overwhelming. I tried to shake it off, but I let things in, and sometimes they overtake me. During H's last tour I was just his girlfriend/fiancée, this time around I was his wife, his next of kin. I have nightmares of uniformed men knocking at the door whilst I'm at work. This terrifies me. I loved him more than ever now, and in' just going to love him more when it's time to say goodbye for 7 months.
I do shut the thoughts to the back of my mind, but they lay dormant and sting me every now and again.
One thing that plays on my mind is the children, J has been through this before, at least I know he's my corner stone and keeps me stable. But this time T will be knowing, he will understand that his Daddy has been gone for a while. T was barely a year old when H went to Kenya for 6 weeks. It was hard. I redecorated the living room whilst he was gone, and it was leading up to Christmas.
I was the "single" woman lugging a Christmas tree through B & Q, I was the "single" woman squeezing the tree into my little Fiesta, and I was the "single" woman sawing off the end of the tree in the front garden to fit into our stand. I did all this with paint on my hands and clothes, as I had literally just completed the living room! I felt independent and strong, but I was still surgically attached to my mobile willing for it to ring. Whilst H was in Kenya I hardly heard a peep, I think he was in his third or fourth week before I received a phonecall, I sent him emails though (I got the address from a fellow Army wife).
When H was back in the UK I drove to his barracks to pick him up. The excitement was unbearable! I knew he would look sexy, all tanned. I turned into the barracks and stopped before the gate. The butterflies were ridiculous, I could feel my stomach doing somersaults. I caught a glimpse of a tall, thin, uniformed soldier. I stared. It was him! I jumped out of the car, and ran. I gripped him and squeezed. He smiled at me and we kissed. It may have only been 6 weeks without my man, but 6 weeks was enough with hardly any contact at all. I could count on one hand the amount of calls I'd received from him.
H was very excited to see the boys. He'd bought them presents. My dad was at the house looking after the boys, and I let him know when we were on our way home. It was late, and there was snow.
When we parked up my butterflies returned, I had no idea how T was going to react, or even if he'd remember his Dad. My father had kept him up so H could see him. We opened the door and I heard a squeal from the living room. T went crazy when he saw H. He remembered. He started running the length of the room, and head-butting the sofa. He jumped all over H, it was unbelievable, but lovely just the same.
I just pray that T remembers H after a longer period away, and I pray that it does not affect T in a negative way. It's a wait and see matter.
When I look back on my life with H I smile, when I look into our future I smile (even if it is sometimes forced). And right now, I look at H, I look at his perfectly formed lips, at his handsome eyes and I cherish it. I sometimes don't like the situations I find myself in, but when I remember why I'm doing them I smile. I do it all for him!
Penderyn Whisky. H has a history with this whisky, and you will now guess why he wanted to buy it for his dad. In H's youth his father had been given a rugby ball shaped bottle of Penderyn whisky. There were only ever 250 of these bottles made. His father had no intention of drinking it, but kept it on a shelf in the kitchen.
After a night out with the boys, H and a friend arrived home slightly tipsy (well probably extremely drunk, H has hollow legs!). They thought it would be a good idea to open and drink H's fathers whisky. They drank it all. I'm not sure what consequences this action created but I'm 100% sure H's dad wasn't very happy the next morning.
J was out with a friend, so I went into Cardiff with T on my own. The first place I went when I got into the city was the Welsh shop that sold the perfect gift. I headed straight for the whisky counter. The guy talked me through the gift boxes they sold, and whilst he was doing so T was shouting and pointing "Daddy, Daddy!". I looked over the man's shoulder who was serving me, and hanging on the wall in a dark wooden frame was a picture of a young boy wearing a bright red tunic. I scanned the picture, counting the buttons on the tunic. "That's not Daddy, he doesn't have 5 buttons". T looked at me and back at the picture. The man behind the counter said "Oh that's my nephew, he's a Grenadier Guard". I explained that my husband was a Welsh Guard and the man proceeded to ask if he'd ever been in Afghanistan. We spoke for a while, then he looked at me and said "His mother has said if he ever goes back it would kill her, too much stress. She was petrified whilst he was there". So many emotions flooded my head in waves. I smiled and responded with "Yes it is quite difficult, but you just have to accept it I guess". I paid for my purchase and left. This guy had me thinking, H and I had got married, and H had met Tomas, but it could've been so different. I was extremely blessed to have H in my life, and blessed to know that God is faithful and protected him whilst deployed. Talking to that guy also reminded me of the life I had chose. I know my decision was the right one, however hard it gets. Within the last year we have had our difficulties. The first year of marriage isn't all about holding hands and skipping through meadows.
Looking back on our year of Mr & Mrs is a strange one, what can I see that has changed? We still lived in the same house, I still only saw my husband at weekends. Life doesn't change.
I look into the future, into our next year and the things we will face. Another tour, Herrick 16. It loomed like a dark cloud, it crept into my mind every silent second. In work I would hear a song from his last tour and my eyes would fill up, the anxiety overwhelming. I tried to shake it off, but I let things in, and sometimes they overtake me. During H's last tour I was just his girlfriend/fiancée, this time around I was his wife, his next of kin. I have nightmares of uniformed men knocking at the door whilst I'm at work. This terrifies me. I loved him more than ever now, and in' just going to love him more when it's time to say goodbye for 7 months.
I do shut the thoughts to the back of my mind, but they lay dormant and sting me every now and again.
One thing that plays on my mind is the children, J has been through this before, at least I know he's my corner stone and keeps me stable. But this time T will be knowing, he will understand that his Daddy has been gone for a while. T was barely a year old when H went to Kenya for 6 weeks. It was hard. I redecorated the living room whilst he was gone, and it was leading up to Christmas.
I was the "single" woman lugging a Christmas tree through B & Q, I was the "single" woman squeezing the tree into my little Fiesta, and I was the "single" woman sawing off the end of the tree in the front garden to fit into our stand. I did all this with paint on my hands and clothes, as I had literally just completed the living room! I felt independent and strong, but I was still surgically attached to my mobile willing for it to ring. Whilst H was in Kenya I hardly heard a peep, I think he was in his third or fourth week before I received a phonecall, I sent him emails though (I got the address from a fellow Army wife).
When H was back in the UK I drove to his barracks to pick him up. The excitement was unbearable! I knew he would look sexy, all tanned. I turned into the barracks and stopped before the gate. The butterflies were ridiculous, I could feel my stomach doing somersaults. I caught a glimpse of a tall, thin, uniformed soldier. I stared. It was him! I jumped out of the car, and ran. I gripped him and squeezed. He smiled at me and we kissed. It may have only been 6 weeks without my man, but 6 weeks was enough with hardly any contact at all. I could count on one hand the amount of calls I'd received from him.
H was very excited to see the boys. He'd bought them presents. My dad was at the house looking after the boys, and I let him know when we were on our way home. It was late, and there was snow.
When we parked up my butterflies returned, I had no idea how T was going to react, or even if he'd remember his Dad. My father had kept him up so H could see him. We opened the door and I heard a squeal from the living room. T went crazy when he saw H. He remembered. He started running the length of the room, and head-butting the sofa. He jumped all over H, it was unbelievable, but lovely just the same.
I just pray that T remembers H after a longer period away, and I pray that it does not affect T in a negative way. It's a wait and see matter.
When I look back on my life with H I smile, when I look into our future I smile (even if it is sometimes forced). And right now, I look at H, I look at his perfectly formed lips, at his handsome eyes and I cherish it. I sometimes don't like the situations I find myself in, but when I remember why I'm doing them I smile. I do it all for him!
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