Well I did it again didn’t I? I stayed away from everything and everyone and blocked out all my feelings. Strange how I can go through all those awful things with my husband and share all those bad events with people, but take him out of my life and I just shut down. He left me to serve his country and get his Basic Training done with. I was without a husband for 4 ½ months. Very little contact, but I have to say it was an exceptional experience. I mean…freakin exceptional.
I hunkered down emotionally the first week and busied myself with plans to walk/run in a half marathon by the time he got back. That weekend I moved all the furniture in the house by myself. I didn’t know it then, but I injured my hip. The next week I began my walk/run training. The very first day I felt a twinge in my hip. I ignored it and thought I just needed to stretch better and get new running shoes. How old were my shoes? I couldn’t even remember the last time I wore running shoes or when I bought them. Who cares I was prepared with all sorts of beginner jogging basics! Stretch, warm up, start slow, don’t push too hard, take it easy and practice, practice, practice. The second time I went out I walk/jogged…I was laid out that night. My hip was searing in pain. I couldn’t even lay on my side. Again, I ignored it and kept going thinking I just need to work those muscles again and I’ll be fine.
The next week sadder than ever and missing my husband so much I began to search the Ft Benning website for info. I searched for anything I could find. I tried to find what stage he was in though he had just started. I tried to find pictures on Flickr though I knew I wouldn’t find any. I even clicked the Facebook link on Ft Benning’s site. I was shocked to find his company and a girl (the First Sergeants wife) who was about to start a group for our boys (or rather the wifes and mom’s…mostly mom’s). I made friends, and even found a picture of my husband. Granted, it was of him running away so I couldn’t actually tell if it was him, but I zoomed into it and confirmed certain shadows…he has…very defining characteristics.
I don’t know how, but by the end of the month I was up to 4 miles and I was in so much pain. Still, I felt encouraged by the occasional picture on facebook and I eventually started receiving letters. I even had a few calls in the beginning. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world and by the second month I was still trying to walk/jog, but landed in physical therapy mid month. Why was I doing this to myself? I’ve never even run a 5k…HELL I’ve never even run more than 2 miles in my life! WTF was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking. All I could think about was when the next call, letter or picture would come.
It never occurred to me that I couldn’t handle being alone. It never occurred to me that I could either. I felt like a walking zombie. Eventually, I gave up on the walk/jog and then the walk altogether. I wasn’t getting any better and the nice running shoes I bought didn’t help a bit. Neither did the second pair. I simply busied myself with getting better the last half of our time apart. Phyisical therapy twice a week, sometimes with 2 or 3 separate procedures in the same day. I planned my first trip to Georgia for Family Pass where I would be spending nearly 3 whole days with my husband. The new Facebook family I had found wanted a way to meet for the Graduation so I created Graduation Wands with printed ribbon. I even made a little money from that, not that I’ve actually touched any of it.
I threw my back out cleaning the closet out for him so he’d have a place to put all his gear when he got home. I read that boys come back with mountains of gear that can take up a full closet in no time so I wanted to prepare for that. I murdered myself doing so many stupid things and I did everything on my own constantly. I never should have moved that furniture, I never should have cleaned out the closet on my own. So many stupid mistakes have lead to me taking months to heal. MONTHS. But the day I left for Graduation I finally asked for help. I couldn’t get up, but there was still much to do and my Mom saved my life. I made it to Georgia that second time in searing pain, but when his mother who flew in from England surprised the living shit out of me at the Airport it all went away.
Well for a little while at least. I mean, like the littlest while you can imagine because we got lost on the way up and were going to completely miss his Turning Blue ceremony…Fucking Disaster!
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