When I opened my eyes this morning, I was on my own...again.
He left in the middle of the night while everyone was sleeping. I don't know if this makes it easier - any time is hard - but there was no moping about all day; no long drawn out goodbyes, and I hate the goodbye bit. We woke up and he was gone.
I had that split second of calm before reality crashed in. Just as gloom clouds were gathering, the nine year old popped his head round the bedroom door and asked if I was OK.
'I'm fine sweetheart.' And I will be. Fine. I don't want them to see me down. I know that how I'm coping affects them. I want everything to feel as normal as possible.
Then the youngest came in and practically dragged me out of bed to look at a big black and white cat in the garden. Life goes on. Kids are great dwelling deterrents.
We had a fantastic two weeks with him, but things don't click straight back into place; it's always a little bumpy at the start. Just takes a while to get into the swing of being together again - no matter how desperately you've been looking forward to it (or dreaming of handing over the kids and heading for the hills....) For months he's been concentrating 100% on work and I've been running the show back here, so we both have to find a comfortable in-between place. As usual we found it - and then he had to leave.
Anyway my plan is to run round the horrible old 'pit of despair' so fast, there's no chance of me falling in. Busy is good. And saturday mornings are always hectic - never thought I'd actually be grateful for that.
If the kids let me, I'm going to spend some time in the neglected garden later. I always find a bit of digging and chopping helps.
But looking a little further ahead, I'm going to add to the list of things I planned to do during the last 5 months, but never quite got round to. It's an opportunity to set fresh goals. Well, that's how I'm looking at it.
So I'm going to do more running and kettlercising; I'm going to see if I've got what it takes to do some radio work; I am going to take more photos and try to write some poetry; I'm going to go camping with the kids...and maybe further afield in the summer holidays.
OK, so it mightn't all happen, but these thoughts are helping at the moment. Because it's rubbish when he goes.
Showing posts with label army families. Show all posts
Showing posts with label army families. Show all posts
21.4.12
23.2.12
'..We will remember them..' Charity Challenge DAY 4
I hope he got my parcel today, because it's his birthday. Not that birthdays or christmas are much different from any other day out there, but I know he loves getting the kids homemade cards and letters. I can see him smiling as he opens them.
That's all I can see though. I can't imagine what life is like for him, I can't picture it. There's too much of a gulf between his reality and mine.
I find it hard to write about his last tour of Afghanistan in 2009. 76 british soldiers lost their lives that summer and hundreds were injured. There was so much sadness and it was the longest 6 months of my life.
The media coverage was relentless because of the rising death toll: reports from the frontline as the troops forced the Taliban out of southern Helmand, heartbreaking scenes from Wootton Bassett and debates about whether british soldiers should be there at all. There was no escape from the news and the anxiety wore me down. It was almost as if I couldn't breathe properly and I found I was sleep-walking through the daily routine. I thought constantly about the families who had lost loved ones and worried about my husband.
I remember thinking about the sense of detachment I'd felt as a journalist, when I'd reported on casualties in other conflicts: now I was on the flip side of the story and it was so incredibly hard.
I also remember feeling frustrated, listening to radio phone-ins about the rights and wrongs of british troops being in Afghanistan. It seemed pretty pointless to me, because what ever your view, there was no going back. They were there, doing the job our politicians had sent them to do, and what they needed more than anything was to know we supported them back home.
I used to come down in the morning and make myself turn on the radio, praying Afghanistan wasn't top of the bulletin. Now, thankfully, almost three years on, it's not dominating the news so much, but our soldiers are still there, risking their lives.
That's why I wanted to support the Rifles 'Care for Casualties' Appeal this week, because I feel it's so important we never forget the sacrifices they have made.
I'd be one of the first to admit that being married to a soldier isn't easy; it's much more than a job, it is a way of life. Over the years I have struggled with many aspects of being an army wife, like the uncertainty, moving, living a part - but above all else, I am immensely proud of him. More than I could ever say.
Happy birthday sweetheart.
That's all I can see though. I can't imagine what life is like for him, I can't picture it. There's too much of a gulf between his reality and mine.
I find it hard to write about his last tour of Afghanistan in 2009. 76 british soldiers lost their lives that summer and hundreds were injured. There was so much sadness and it was the longest 6 months of my life.
The media coverage was relentless because of the rising death toll: reports from the frontline as the troops forced the Taliban out of southern Helmand, heartbreaking scenes from Wootton Bassett and debates about whether british soldiers should be there at all. There was no escape from the news and the anxiety wore me down. It was almost as if I couldn't breathe properly and I found I was sleep-walking through the daily routine. I thought constantly about the families who had lost loved ones and worried about my husband.
I remember thinking about the sense of detachment I'd felt as a journalist, when I'd reported on casualties in other conflicts: now I was on the flip side of the story and it was so incredibly hard.
I also remember feeling frustrated, listening to radio phone-ins about the rights and wrongs of british troops being in Afghanistan. It seemed pretty pointless to me, because what ever your view, there was no going back. They were there, doing the job our politicians had sent them to do, and what they needed more than anything was to know we supported them back home.
I used to come down in the morning and make myself turn on the radio, praying Afghanistan wasn't top of the bulletin. Now, thankfully, almost three years on, it's not dominating the news so much, but our soldiers are still there, risking their lives.
That's why I wanted to support the Rifles 'Care for Casualties' Appeal this week, because I feel it's so important we never forget the sacrifices they have made.
I'd be one of the first to admit that being married to a soldier isn't easy; it's much more than a job, it is a way of life. Over the years I have struggled with many aspects of being an army wife, like the uncertainty, moving, living a part - but above all else, I am immensely proud of him. More than I could ever say.
Happy birthday sweetheart.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)