Its time for you to come home and I’m not sure if my anxiety stems from fear or pure excitement.
I know, I know, that probably makes me sound a bit crazy, but I have to be honest. The idea of you being home has been my paradise place in my head but the closer it gets, the more my anxiety boils my blood and consumes me to a point where my to-do list is getting checked off out of pure angst and anxiety.
Have I mentioned anxiety? lol
I wanted you to know it’s not a fear of you personally, it’s a fear of who I have become in this short time you have been gone.
It’s been about a month since I hit the “okay he needs to come home” threshold and every single day has been a struggle in some form or another.
Our last conversations have been filled with a hairline crack of “don’t get on the bad side” mixed with a dash of shame and blame on my part. Let me explain…
You said “every time I call you are so overwhelmed, I look forward to hearing your voice and you end up crying”.
Yes baby, this is fucking hard.
I think it’s been about a month since you said that, maybe two- who knows. But it stung a bit. I felt like I wasn’t aloud to feel every emotion that was spewing from my ears.
If I recall correctly, I think I hung up on you, sent a text to tell you I love and miss you and wished you well on your night out in either El Salvador or Costa Rica.
I know it was just a port call but I was fucking pissed.
I wasted that port call being mad at you on the inside and ‘okay’ on the outside.
Maybe 5 years ago I would have turned off my phone and waited till you returned to speak for the first time but we’ve been at that place for a while now where we can coexist without anger or disrespect.
We both know what we mean to each other is what I’m trying to say I guess and with the clock ticking down till the end of your port call points out the last seconds I need to hear your voice.
So the next morning, I answered your call. You were hung over and I was jealous. Not jealous you were hung over, but jealous of where you were because I dreamt about it all night, just to wake up with baby fingers gouging my eyeball and the realization that I was here and you were there.
We talked on the phone, we talked on Skype, attempted to use FaceTime but technology….
We talked. Not about what happened but about our plans, our future, our babies, about how much we fucking missed each other.
It’s not always about ‘what happened’…it’s about what will happen next and I am so grateful to have you in my life to remind me of that.
This deployment I spent a lot of time working on passion projects I haven’t even had the chance to share with you and I guess I’m scared because there’s that part of me that thinks, ‘what if he isn’t on board with my passions?’ ‘What if…’ and down the rabbit hole of self doubt I go.
I haven’t shared my master plan with you yet (shit, I don’t think I’ve really shared it with anyone) but just know that you are coming home to that wife you always remind me I once was.
And now that I have written about it, I’m finding that the ‘fear’ I started with is simply excitement, and I am.
I’m really excited.
Soon you will be home and the real life will begin that makes and breaks me every year. Our ‘bad season’ of marriage that strikes yearly is approaching and I want to make sure we are going to blow through it like it’s not even there.
You my love, have been my passion project all along, and I’m looking forward to this adventure we’ve always dreamed of making together.
I truly can’t wait ❤️
I’ll see you soon!