The army helicopter keeps flying overhead, spotlight streaming through the trees. They're obviously looking for someone up here. I told the girls to help me make sure all the doors and windows are locked, which was a good idea- two windows and the back door have been unlocked for who knows how long. I'm up tonight playing with the idea of writing again. I feel as though I've left part of myself unfinished, the way I left this blog.
I often think about the time eight years ago when my husband and I were in Utah and he was getting ready to make the enlistment into the active duty infantry official. I made him promise he would never let any of those army horror stories happen to us. He said he would do his best. I felt as though we would be okay. I still feel that way, despite everything. Maybe I'm crazy. Wait...yes, that's right, I am.
He spends a good half the time with me and our girls and spends the rest of the time with his army buddy off post. It's a very difficult way for me to live, but he says he is almost ready to come home for good. I have seen a difference in the last couple months with the various appointments he goes to, along with our marriage therapy and my personal therapy. He still has his moments, but we are both learning about triggers and how to just walk away when things get intense. It can escalate without a moments notice. We are also relearning how to communicate with each other. Sometimes I hold him so close to me and I can almost pretend that my husband is really there with me. My real husband- the one from the past, before all hell broke loose. For so long it a was as though my husband was gone...just gone. His body was there but a totally different person was inside of it. It was so hard to comprehend. Very painful. He couldn't understand...he couldn't even care.
My husband is doing one thing that many soldiers won't do. He is getting help. He has even asked me to drive with him to his PTSD appointments because the one time I didn't, he drove to his other place and got drunk instead. Some might say, let him do this himself, but he has been my husband for so long. I promised him in sickness and in health, and I am keeping my promise, even if he didn't. If we end up walking away from each other, at least I know I fought my damndest to save this marriage. Things are better but we still have a long way to go, I understand that.
We had such a great week together and yesterday he decided to go to the other house. I thought things were okay until a phone call woke me up at one in the morning. He was drunk off his ass, walking home from a bar. He spilled his guts saying he was tired of death and of bullets flying past his head, and he is mad at God (to put it kindly), and my dad is a mother fucker because he's a Vietnam vet and should understand. Strange thing is, he had to be up by five to go to work.
My husband went to war for our country and came home with a different war for our little family to fight alone, in silent fear for so long. The army says they are trying to help. What a joke. We are getting majority of the real help through the vet center. When my dad says FTA I know exactly what he means now.
The helicopter is gone. They either found who they were looking for, or they didn't. It's okay, the doors are locked and this army wife can handle just about anything now.