I had been warned from other military wives that things would be rough, especially at the beginning. However, I didn't know what that warning really meant. Would it just be the fact that I'd miss him? Would the main challenge stem from doing everything on my own, and continuing on with life without my husband for an entire year? Would it be about going to bed alone at night while wondering what he's doing on the other side of the globe? These are the kinds of challenges I expected and prepared for. In my ignorant pre-deployment brain, I didn't have the capacity to grasp just how complex and unique the challenges coming our way would be.
Simply put, deployments go beyond being forced into a state of "missing each other". Deployments completely derail the ways that you operate as a couple. Deployments take away your means of prioritizing and maintaining a healthy relationship almost entirely.
During a deployment, the biggest and most important priority is the physical, mental and emotional well-being of the deployed soldier. It is absolutely imperative that during a time of incredible lack of safety, comfort, and certainty, the person deployed is supported to the utmost degree by any means possible. The person back at home doesn't have much control over their soldier's physical well-being, but we most certainly have a large part in maintaining mental and emotional well-being through our communications. The general rule is that communications should always be positive, encouraging, and supportive. What I have learned, is that this shift in prioritization almost inherently means that the needs of the person at home and the relationship itself are put on the back-burner. It's just the reality of the process.
I have to admit, I'm almost ashamed to acknowledge how hard it has been for me to be a selfless, consistent source of positivity for my husband in this time. I'm learning how difficult it is to give all of your energy and love to a partner that is temporarily unable to reciprocate at the same level, all while experiencing your own adversity on the homefront. It turns out, selflessness to this degree is not my strong suit, because it's not something that has ever been required of me. I realized how much of a challenge this would be for me when I experienced my first emotional day of the deployment. Eric had also had a hard day, and he was hoping a conversation with me would raise his spirits and strengthen his motivation. It was the first time I had heard his voice after his arrival to his base, and I was determined to make this rare chance to actually talk on the phone a positive one for him. The entire time I spoke with him, I was trying my hardest to be uplifting while choking back tears. I was only able to keep that going for a few minutes before breaking down, further dampening his day, and unintentionally putting him in a position where he needed to comfort me. It's an incredibly complicated situation, because as bad as I feel about this situation I find myself in, Eric has it exponentially worse. As much as I need comfort and consolation, he needs it more. Any deployed soldier has enough on their plate without taking on the burden of assuring everyone at home that things will be fine. I know this, yet successfully being the "rock" I want to be for him seems to be beyond my grasp in many of the moments that require me to step up.
What I'm trying to say, is that I'm chaotically stumbling through this process, learning as i go, and making a lot of mistakes along the way.
It's hard to describe accurately what this all feels like. My relationship with my husband is the most rewarding, amazing relationship in my life. But during a deployment, most of of the things that make our relationship rewarding and amazing are taken away and put on hold, only to be experienced again after a safe return and successful re-acclimation. For now, the only real way we are able to express love to each other is through the words we say and write. Words are important, and luckily for me, Eric is wonderful with words. It's actually incredibly impressive how he fulfills many of my relationship needs through his words alone. Words will get us through this year, but words aren't enough to sustain a relationship long-term. While we do our best with what we have, we are still enduring a year without being in each other's presence. We're enduring year without looking into each other's eyes as we talk about the events of our days, and a year without cuddling, holding hands, kissing, or any form of physical interaction. It's a year without coming home to a fancy meal, or a silly note written on the fridge. It's a year without movie nights, pillow talk, inside jokes, mundane errands, or surprise weekend trips. The real beauty of our relationship is stolen for an entire year, while one of us flirts with disaster in a warzone.
But, here's the kicker-- enduring a deployment is even more than all the things I've mentioned above. On top of not getting your relationship needs met for an entire year, it's suppressing feelings and thoughts you desperately need to express, because actually voicing them will do more harm than good. It's a year of being confronted with horrific news updates and panicking, waiting for a text while praying it wasn't him that was injured or killed. It's feeling heartbroken for those who already won't be coming home, while simultaneously feeling guilty that you're thankful it wasn't him. It's a year of deciding whether or not to take the rare chance to Skype each other, because it's a tough day, and making your miserable state known to your person will make things worse. It's a year of miscommunications because you can only text for the next several days. It's a year of not being able to resolve those miscommunications, because addressing relationship hiccups can't be a priority. It's a year of not knowing what my husband is doing because he's not able to tell me. It's a year of watching him detach from his real life more and more the longer he's there. It's a year of fear, confusion, resentment, heartache, despair, and uncertainty.
I have good days and bad days. The worst days make me feel like I'm kidding myself, that I'll never get through this. The worst days shake my motivation. On my worst days, all of my energy goes into willing myself not to break down and sob at my desk at work. But, the best days remind me that I'm earning something. The best days remind me why I'm doing this, why the man I've married is the best man in the world for me. The best days renew my motivation.
It's likely I will get flack for posting this uncharacteristically negative string of thoughts. I realize that what I'm saying potentially presents military relationships in a negative way, and I apologize if anyone is offended by the way I describe my experience. I don't speak for all military relationships, only my own. Regardless, I'm sure what I've said has the potential of making people think twice before embarking on such a pursuit, but I think that's good. I wouldn't wish any of this on my worst enemy, and I think it's probably best for people to be aware of what they're signing on for. As negative as this all sounds, it's my experience and it's real. I'm sure experiences vary. I know there are couples handling it much better than we are, but I also know there are couples taking the deployment much harder than we are. I just keep reminding myself how motivating the idea of bearing on and living on the other side of this god-forsaken year is. I'm working towards a life with my husband in which we've already overcome the worst of our days; a life in which our unique experiences give us the ability to not take our good fortune and mutual love for granted. I'm pushing on for that picket-fence-and-two-or-three kids-when-we're-in-our-thirties life with the most awesome man I know, because although it may sound mundane, a normal life with Eric sounds like the biggest gift life could throw my way. I may not be enduring this year with the most grace or positivity, but I know I'm still earning that normal life with Eric that I dream about every day.
