Monsoon Season

Staring at the ceiling at three a.m., my mind races with the events of the past and next few days. I consider caffeine, but decide against, since those few hours of sleep that come (eventually) are precious. I am hyper-vigilant, unwilling to sacrifice the remaining hours before he leaves to something as trivial as rest…even when that rest brings blessed release from the anxiety that rests in the pit of my stomach like an ulcer. Rob came home in beige today, instead of the usual green; and I was completely unprepared for the sight. Everything is real now. My period of acceptable denial is over, and today I have to face the fact that he leaves- soon. I am not okay with this.
This is a funny statement for me to make, so pouty and irrelevant. We were interviewed by NPR the other day, and at one point I found myself saying it over and over “I am NOT okay with this!” as if my cooperation or willingness to send him away again matters in the long run. It’s cute how I think I have a voice, sometimes. When mostly, I am screaming against the howling wind. I have been able to put on a brave face this time; and I think he’s been reassured by this. No spontaneous bursts of crying, no morbid, overly romantic mooning. I’ve been remarkably stoic, actually. Which is wonderfully calming to everyone who doesn’t live inside my body. On the inside, I’m in great pain- both physical and emotional. Tied in knots, it hurts to breathe, and I feel as if I have electrical currents running through my head and arms. But I’m holding up remarkably well, to look at me.
I have coped with this whole process by mentally spending the money I know is coming in. I want to bring our bills current, pay down our credit cards, take Rory and Rachel to Disney. I want a new front door and a home security system. All of it, the bills and the Brinks, adds up to the same thing that I don’t have and can’t buy: I want to feel safe. But that’s not possible with my husband away. It’s a matter of hours now, and I'm not ready to let him go. Tomorrow I’ll get the taxes done, send a copy of his orders to our mortgage company, and pretend to smile again. Tonight though, while he's asleep, I brace for the coming storm.