More difficult than I anticipated.
This is sort of a cathartic rant. I hope that getting some of this out will help.
I haven't talked to Rick since the 20th and that sucks. It was only for 7 minutes, too. His phone card was totally depleted.
I miss him. I miss him so much. We've been together everyday since we got married (8 months in 7 days, btw).
I've missed him since he got on the bus. I thought I was being silly; missing him within hours of his leaving. But before he got on the plane, out of nowhere, he texted me, "I miss you".
In all honestly, I wasn't expecting a 2 week separation to suck this much. What a wake up call this has been. As cliche as it sounds, he is my other half. The peanut butter to my jelly; the cheese to my cracker; the salt to my pepper; the sodium to my chloride. I don't feel "complete" without him here. Sure, you can have one without the other. But it's not the same. Or it's deadly, in the case of elemental sodium or elemental chlorine.
I've been staying up until 3 or so in the morning. That way, I'm exhausted enough to fall right asleep.
My mom said that I should have come home for this. But I need to experience it. I need to know what it feels like. I need to know that I can do it on my own.
It makes me think about how it'll be, how I'll be, when he inevitably gets deployed for real. I told him that I'd stay put in our apartment, amongst our things. But I don't know about that anymore.
Maybe it would be better if I had made a friend or two down here. That's not to say that Dexter and Penny aren't good company. They just don't talk much. They miss him, too. I asked Penny, "Where's Daddy?" and she walked about the apartment looking for him. I asked her again, and she turned her head and looked at his spot on the couch. It made me smile, though.
I don't feel safe at night, either. And it's not that we live in a bad part of town. It's quite nice, actually. But I bought a nice metal bat, just in case. $65 worth of piece of mind. Matt was trying to talk me into buying a gun. The thought of me and a 12-gauge pump-action shotgun is comical. I'm going to take that up with Rick when he gets home. Fo sho.
Surprisingly, I do feel better. There's my little pity party.
I haven't talked to Rick since the 20th and that sucks. It was only for 7 minutes, too. His phone card was totally depleted.
I miss him. I miss him so much. We've been together everyday since we got married (8 months in 7 days, btw).
I've missed him since he got on the bus. I thought I was being silly; missing him within hours of his leaving. But before he got on the plane, out of nowhere, he texted me, "I miss you".
In all honestly, I wasn't expecting a 2 week separation to suck this much. What a wake up call this has been. As cliche as it sounds, he is my other half. The peanut butter to my jelly; the cheese to my cracker; the salt to my pepper; the sodium to my chloride. I don't feel "complete" without him here. Sure, you can have one without the other. But it's not the same. Or it's deadly, in the case of elemental sodium or elemental chlorine.
I've been staying up until 3 or so in the morning. That way, I'm exhausted enough to fall right asleep.
My mom said that I should have come home for this. But I need to experience it. I need to know what it feels like. I need to know that I can do it on my own.
It makes me think about how it'll be, how I'll be, when he inevitably gets deployed for real. I told him that I'd stay put in our apartment, amongst our things. But I don't know about that anymore.
Maybe it would be better if I had made a friend or two down here. That's not to say that Dexter and Penny aren't good company. They just don't talk much. They miss him, too. I asked Penny, "Where's Daddy?" and she walked about the apartment looking for him. I asked her again, and she turned her head and looked at his spot on the couch. It made me smile, though.
I don't feel safe at night, either. And it's not that we live in a bad part of town. It's quite nice, actually. But I bought a nice metal bat, just in case. $65 worth of piece of mind. Matt was trying to talk me into buying a gun. The thought of me and a 12-gauge pump-action shotgun is comical. I'm going to take that up with Rick when he gets home. Fo sho.
Surprisingly, I do feel better. There's my little pity party.