SUCK IT UP.
GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF.
IT’S LIKE BOOTCAMP.
YOU’LL BE FINE.
LEAVE YOUR PROBLEMS AT HOME.
No. No. It’s not. I will be, but I’m not. It’s not a problem, it’s my life.
The past 97 days have been the hardest 97 days of my life. And for the past two weeks, I’ve been in a different kind of place than before. I haven’t been happy, or in the gym, or loving myself. I’ve been insecure and sad, I’ve been exhausted and I’ve cried all night long. It started just the other night last week: it had been a day. Just a day. Nothing bad had happened, really. I’d gotten up and gone to work, and gone to job #2 in the evening. And driving home that night, for no reason, I just broke down. I pulled over into a parking lot and cried for a half hour. It felt as though everything had hit me at one time, how lonely I was. I got home and cried more, took a shower and cried more, and thought about who to call.
But the fact of the matter is: at 11 pm on a Tuesday night, I don’t have anyone. My best friend is off at college. People are sleeping for work the next day. And to be honest, I’ve never felt so lonely. It didn’t matter that my sister was in the next room. It didn’t matter that I had friends in town. It didn’t matter that I could call people and I knew they would answer. It didn’t matter.
I’m in a place where I don’t want to be alone. But I don’t want to be with people, because I don’t want to smile and pretend like I’m okay right now. I’m not. I feel like everything is falling down and like I can’t stop it. I’m in a place where one minute I’m smiling and laughing and thinking “I’ve got this. Today is a good day”, and the next minute, I’m crying on my bedroom floor because I’ve dropped my car keys. I’m in a place where the alarm goes off at 4 am and I burst into tears because the idea of dealing with people at work is too much. I’m in a place where I’ve seldom been, and this time, there’s no Ricky to hold my hand and tell me I’m okay. There’s everyone, and at the same time, there’s no one.
And that’s not saying people don’t care. They say “call me if you need me” and they say “I’m here for you”. And they mean it. But what am I supposed to say? “Hey, it’s me. And I don’t know what’s wrong with me. But I’m a sobbing mess on the floor because I spilt a glass.”
I don’t know what to say to explain the way deployment feels, to those who don’t understand. Yes, I’ve been without him for 7 months, and that’s more than twice the time currently of deployment. But it was different. We had skype dates. We talked all day, almost everyday. We fell asleep on the phone together. We argued and made up in a few hours. We didn’t wonder if the other was okay, because we knew. This is different. I go through the day with my phone attached to my hip, with the ringer on high, because I don’t want to miss a phone call. I haven’t heard his voice in almost a month. I haven’t had a Skype date with that loser in 3 months. When I sleep, I’m afraid I’ll miss that Facebook message notification. We argue and the lack of communication screws everything up, and we apologize and make up immediately, because we don’t know when we’ll talk next. I’m constantly wondering if he’s okay, he’s constantly asking me if I’m okay, because we don’t know. The worst feeling in the world is saying, “Goodbye, I love you. Text me later”, and wondering if “later” is going to be in a month.
Don’t tell me to suck it up. Especially if you don’t know what this feels like. I get up and most of the time I make it to work and through my shift. I find the energy to shower and put makeup on and make it to the second job. I get through the night there and if I fall apart on the way home, so be it. Don’t tell me to suck it up. Can’t you see I’m doing my best?
I don’t have any advice tonight. I don’t have any ways to get through what I’m feeling, because I can’t seem to right now. I’m just hoping that maybe someone else feels or has felt the same way, and thought they were alone, and now they know they’re not.