I wasn’t going to write about this. I was going to write something funny, something where everyone would nod along, smile and leave my blog with a happy feeling. But it keeps nagging at me.
So too bad. You’re here. Now you’ve got to read or you’ll wonder what’s going on.
Sam leaves for 18 weeks (a tad over 4 months) in March. He’ll be in Georgia training for his job in the Army. I’ll be here. Till July.
To put it bluntly – I’m terrified. I guess of everything. Being alone. Being a single mom. Missing him.
I’m mostly afraid of becoming depressed. I have this great fear of depression – it runs in my family. I’ve seen it’s crippling side effects and try to make sure that I avoid any situation that would make me even slightly feel like that.
But with Sam gone that long, I don’t know what I’ll do. Right now, I have a purpose during my day. I know that when Bella goes to bed, I will cook dinner and clean up before he gets home. I enjoy having him come home and seeing what I accomplished while he was gone – a painting from Bella, neatly stacked up toys, a furniture rearrange. Sam notices and appreciates the things I do.
Being a SAHM requires a lot of self discipline, something I’m not great at. That has been the hardest part of this last year. Pushing myself to do things outside my comfort zone. I really do try though, for Bella’s sake. And I’ve got a routine down during the day. But remember my “What’s the point?” post? I worry that might be every day.
When he’s gone? There won’t be any reason to keep this routine I have. No one will care. I can vacumm the next day. I don’t have to cook anything for myself. Dishes? meh.
Yes, I need to do all this for Bella. Of course she is a reason. But I’m afraid that my overwhelming sense of being alone, and the never ending weeks of him being gone will take a toll on me. I thrive on being held accountable for things, having a purpose, a goal.
On top of that, I have to be strong. I can’t fall apart like I have at every other separation, because neither he or Bella need me to constantly do that. At night I flip over away from him, and hot tears pour down my face as I listen to him breathe and feel his legs entwined with mine. I try to breathe normally as my throat closes up, I try hard not to think about how much I will miss him, how scary it will be to lay there alone so far away from him. How tough it’s going to be to not see him walk in the door at night, to wake up next to him in the morning. How I will miss my best friend, confidante, and partner.
Yes, it’s 4 months. But it’s not. It’s just a glimpse of the years to come. That is what scares me the most.
And as I sit typing, Sam lays next to me asleep. I wipe tears away as I pour out my heart on here, and try to capture this moment of us. Right now. To be still and thankful for the present.
As I went to set this to publish, a verse popped into my head, and I wanted to share it. Which isn’t something I normally do, but:
“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” – Matthew 6:34