deployment: round 2

It's been about 4 days now since Gene left for Spain.  We both took leave from work for the entire week before he left, but unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond our control (AKA: the inability of the Air Force to correctly complete a task that they repeat hundreds of times a week the FIRST time) we didn't get to take any of the trips that we'd originally planned to take before he left, but we did manage to squeeze in an overnight trip to Bath/Bristol/Stonehenge....

He was originally scheduled to leave last monday, but since nobody at the base seems to know their ass from a hole in the wall,  it got moved around a few times during the week until they finally settled on Thursday, and even though I was already back at work by then (I hadn't taken days off beyond last Monday, because I was told that's when he was leaving), I still wanted to take him to the airport that morning and see him off.  This meant a little shuffling around of the schedule, and thankfully my awesome coworker was willing to switch shifts with me, which meant I could have the morning off and come in later in the afternoon to work evening clinics on Thursday. The night before he left we went out for  a nice dinner at Turkuaz in Newmarket, and we made it home around 10:00 -  I kept badgering Gene ALL week about packing, but as usual, he left it until the very last minute, so he didn't even start packing (for a six month trip!) until after we got home and settled.  The whole time he was packing, I was doing the math in my head, basically hearing the minutes ticking away of sleep I could actually get before we had to get up and head to the airport.   He finished up packing around 11:30, which meant we could cram in about 3 hours of sleep before we had to get up, get ready, and head to the airport.  By 3:30 that morning, we were on our way.

Before Gene's first deployment, I was a mess. I would be washing dishes and burst into tears for no apparent reason, and it was ridiculous. I was hard to live with, and walked around with this feeling of impending doom.  This time, it hasn't been so bad (I have randomly burst into tears, but not nearly as much), but I've not had much time to stop and mentally prepare for this deployment since they sort of dropped the bomb that it was happening much earlier than originally anticipated (he was originally supposed to go after christmas), but I figured the saying goodbye part would be a little easier because, if for no other reason, he was only going to Spain.  Plus, the last time he deployed, it was on the heels of the worst six months of my life + I was planning the wedding, so I was on a non-stop emotional roller coaster, and I'm in a much better place now....

We got to the airport in plenty of time, and I turned from a grown-ass woman into a sniveling heap in a matter of seconds. There's this wave of emotion that comes over me any time I leave my husband for a significant amount of time that I just can't explain in words. I feel physically ill and the waterworks start. It doesn't help that I always get paranoid when I cry in airports because I don't want to throw up a security flag - While I'm sure people who work in airports are used to seeing passengers and their loved ones get emotional, I just don't want to cause a ruckus and I get all self conscious, which makes me try to hold the crying in, which, at the end, makes me cry more and usually ends with snot running down my face, which makes people give me dirty looks, which makes me cry. It's a vicious cycle of emotional humiliation.  When I was leaving the states this summer, and my parents were standing there just a few feet away from the security barrier watching me go through, I was bawling like a small child, and I got all sorts of dirty looks from security and ended up getting a full body scan (I don't know if the two things were actually related, but it sort of felt like it...I mean, maybe to security people, nothing says "I'm a suicide bombing terrorist" like a grown woman crying like an infant).... So anyway, I'm at Heathrow, and  I'm standing there, crying into my husbands shoulder, nonchalantly trying to wipe the snot away from my face with the sleeve of my "I <3 Fernando Torres" sweatshirt (gross, I know - the snot, not Fernando Torres....), and all I can think is "NOW I have to walk back through the damn airport with "I've-been hysterically-crying" face" - so I finally let Gene go, and started my trek back to the car, and got a wide spectrum of looks and reactions from people.....

there are always the people who give you the "awwww" face, and you know they feel incredibly sorry for you, and I saw a lot of that.  There are people who look at you like they want to ask what's wrong, but know they shouldn't.....A little old lady in the bathroom (who just happened to also be American) asked me if i was okay, which I appreciated, and she was very sympathetic, and told me not to worry and that "six months is just a flash of time in your life - it will be over before you know it"..... her words made me feel a little better until I made my way to the elevator and the only other person on there glared at me like I'd just drop kicked a puppy at them. I wanted to scream "HAVE YOU NEVER SEEN ANYONE CRY BEFORE?" but, again, didn't want to be apprehend by security, so I just tried to ignore the fact that I was being glared at for the duration of our short elevator ride together. Now that I look back on it, maybe I had snot on my face (cause that completely warrants a horrified stare)....or maybe he's not a Chelsea/Torres fan......

So I make it back to the car after paying my parking fee, and sat in the car and cried for a good 10 minutes, then I cranked up the mini, and headed back towards home.  I'd never driven to/from the airport ALONE, and Gene usually helps me navigate (along with Tom Tom), so I spent a good 30 minutes going around in a giant circle, completely lost, but eventually I found my way.  As I'd anticipated, I was exhausted the entire drive home, so there were points where I was struggling to stay awake - I had to pull over a couple of times to just get out and stretch and make myself wake up.  I was relieved to finally get back home and crash out for a nap before work.

When I got home from work that night, I'll admit that I got really upset.  I called my mom and cried at her for probably 45 minutes, but I don't know how much of that was fueled by the fact that I was still pretty exhausted.  The rest of last week was pretty normal - I worked, came home...pretty standard stuff.....Saturday I had a riding lesson at a local stable, so that gave me something to do to distract me. Yesterday was rough because it was the first day I've spent completely on my own, and I had some moments, but I got through it.

It's still not nearly as bad as the first deployment, but it's still not easy.  It's weird to come home and not have anyone to talk to (I talk to the dogs, but they rarely ever respond....and while I'm on the subject of the dogs, they seem pretty depressed the last few days, which makes me super sad), and sleeping alone is just about the most bizarre thing ever at this point.  I also have to figure out how to cook for one person again....I'm extremely lucky because I do have the option to go visit him while he is in Spain - I don't think there are many places they can deploy where that can happen....and we are also very lucky because we've been together for 4 years, and this is only his second deployment - deployments are usually far more frequent than that, so we are fortunate....I don't know how someone who has a husband who deploys a bunch actually handles it......this life is hard, Y'all!

4 days down, 176 to go!