One of the Tough Parts

It’s something I probably say way too much. “Oh, that’s just one of the tough parts of being a military spouse,” is a regular part of my phraseology. Alternatively, I’ll also mention the stationed overseas part. We miss weddings, births, deaths, holidays, reunions, and of course weekend family meals. The continental drift means that friendships are stretched by time and distance and even family relations are put under great strain. We say goodbye to friends all the time, we deal with long hours, thankless work, and long periods of separation. It’s all part of the life, and all of it is one of the tough parts.

I blacked out at work today. It’s been a rough few days there. The kids have brought in a stomach bug that almost all the staff has dealt with in some form or another. Mine has been pretty mild, so I’ve been in at work the last few days, operating on minimum food and sleep. That caught up with me today. I went to kneel down and talk to a student when it started. My head got hot, there was a rush of blood as my ears were filled with a dull roaring sound. I had to turn my face to the carpet and blink because I couldn’t see anything for a few brief seconds. Luckily the student didn’t seem to concerned. It was in full view of the camera, so if they doubt my word, they can just pull the tapes.

As soon as I felt safe I got up, called for someone to come cover me for a bathroom break, looked at my fellow teacher and told her what had happened. She told me to go home. 15 minutes later my manager had it covered and home I went. Except, here enters the hard part. I called B. I called home and his work number. No answer. One of his chief’s walked in, said he was in a meeting. So, I walked home. In the 100+ weather. Luckily it isn’t a long walk. Also luckily I didn’t pass out.

I came home and texted B. It was pretty short, because I was frustrated, both with blacking out and at having to walk home. He finally called almost an hour later. Asked if I was okay. I wanted to say no. I wanted to beg him to come home and take care of me. I wanted to tell him that I just didn’t want to be alone tonight. Instead, I told him I’d be fine and that I’d call again if anything else came up. And promptly cried after we hung up.

This is one of the tough parts about being a military wife. I want him home with me. I want him to take care of me. But his job comes first. I don’t have to like it. I certainly don’t right now, but I do have to accept it. This is one of those things that you don’t understand until you’ve lived it. You don’t know what you’re getting in to, until you’re neck deep in it. Or, until you’ve blacked out and had to walk yourself home and now you get to spend the evening somewhat alone.

You have to be okay. Always. Because that’s just the way it is. It isn’t easy,  but I guess that’s because it’s one of the tough parts.

~The Countess~

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About texancountess

I find myself in the calming roar of the sea, floating gently on the foam of the breaking waves. Blue. Green. Gray. The colors of the sea mark the boundaries of my soul. The tumbled glass finds its polish under the relentless pounding of the waves upon the shore. Thus am I. Rough transitioning to polish, refinement ever a process, finding my niche in the storms of life.
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One Response to One of the Tough Parts

  1. Stereo says:

    I’ve said it so many times but it still bears repeating: you are strong and I don’t know how you do it. I wish I was there to give you a hug but know that I am right here if you need someone to talk to. I love you ♥

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