So, if I was at mile 5 before, I'm now at like mile 16... where you think "oh shit, this is starting to hurt, and I have 10 more miles! I'm not sure if I can make it." I'm trying to battle those thoughts. The last 5 weeks I have gotten up every morning -alone- to be greeted by a stack of bills I can't pay, and two little boys that need to be educated, loved, and made to feel safe and secure. I've done a damn good job, and those bills are getting paid on Monday!!!!!
For over a month I rallied myself up, sallied forth with my "widow list" I made piles of clean clothes in my bed room, drank out of the milk carton, rented the movies I wanted, read a book, started doing yoga, and blogged more. I've even begun to eat the perfectly balanced diet. I cut out sugars and gluten, and replaced them with fruit and rice. I've done everything I've always wanted to do. Then I started hanging up all of my clothes after I took them off, drinking milk out of a glass, and stopped blogging. To be honest it's gotten really old.
Now, I need a new list. I've done everything on the old one. Unfortunately, and quickly, my brain has compiled this list: I want to smell his BO, I want to leave the toilet paper roll just out of his reach, and hear him say, "damnit Annie". I want to be annoyed by finding a random toenail he forgot to pick up. I want to bitch about wiskers in the sink. I want some one else to discipline the kids, pick out the movie, do the dishes. I want a hug from him. I want to fight with him for leg space on the couch, blankets in bed. I want to hear his voice, it's been a solid two weeks. I feel guilty and thankless when this list invites itself into my head, but that doesn't make me want him less. I can't stand pictures of him today.
My comfort comes from bits of information I glean from his letters, in 5 weeks he's aquired a leadership role, Company Squad leader, and his squad is #1. He's a hoss. I smile when I think of the contortion of his face as he strains to win the challenges he faces... "Affix bayonettes, Company Charge!" I see him leading the way (he won) and I get a moment of relief. I imagine him, chest out, leading the A group on their runs, and I fill with pride. I am so incredibly happy for him. I think about what it says that he's written me at least 3 times a week, and feel incredibly INCREDIBLY signifigant. I try not to think about the distance I feel in what he isn't saying, but I do and it eats at me (I'm not sure how to translate this into a universal language). In every letter he DOES make a point to let me know how he feels about me. That is pretty awesome.
So much like the race, I've got to take it one step at a time... one moment at a time and try not to think too much. I've got to just let it happen. I most definitely need to screen my crowd of spectators. My stride will not easily bounce back from a Cornelius Horan or Jock Semple right now, and I've got to keep on trudgin forward.
"Put to death then, the parts of you that are earthly; immorality (adultery), impurity, passion(anger), evil desire, and greed... and put on then, heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience... bearing with one another and forgiving one another... and over all of these put on love..." I'm trying God. "Let the peace of Christ control your hearts" Oh yeah, thanks God. That definitely will make the first part easier ;) [Col. 3: 5,12-13, 15]
Saturday, January 30, 2010
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