Crashing

Voices from the Blogosphere – Blogger Spotlight

Welcome to Blogger Spotlight, where we showcase the voices of Mamapedia community moms through their authentic and wonderfully diverse blog posts. Sometimes humorous, sometimes informative, sometimes bittersweet—always engaging. Enjoy!

*********************************************************************************************************************************

Crashing

I’m coasting. But this time the road is familiar. I’m not wondering if I will remain numb or disinterested, or even-keeled for the rest of my husband’s tour of duty in Afghanistan. I know I won’t.

After seven months of enduring his year-long absence while I hold down a job and care for my two children in Quito, Ecuador, I recognize when I’m coasting. It’s when I go through multiple days without even thinking about him. I don’t feel guilty about it anymore. In fact, I embrace the apathy and the routine of our lives without him.

And I ride this coasting feeling as long as possible, because I also know that it’s temporary. The feeling that I’m fine, the kids are fine, and I have my job and our lives under control, will all be tested soon enough.

I’m smarter now about all this. I know a crash is coming.

When you’re separated from your partner for months at a time, crashes come and crashes go—it’s just a matter of time. It will start with a sickness, either mine or of my kids. Doctor’s visits will require me to take time off work at a critical juncture, like when a huge report is due, or when I am hosting an event I’ve been planning for months. Rent will be due and I’ll realize I don’t have any more checks. I’ll forget to pay the electricity bill and the utility company will start calling my house with automated messages threatening to cut off the power. An employee at work will resign, forcing me to do my job and theirs, in addition to running things at home. Something bad will happen in Afghanistan and the calls and emails asking about my husband’s status will roll in. I’ll feel guilty about not spending more time with my children. And then I’ll get some personal bad news—like a friend or family member who is sick or has lost their job, or worse, has died.

The realities of my life and the little failures of single parenting will multiply and end up in a knot in my stomach. I’ll become so stressed and worried I can’t keep it all together I’ll stop sleeping at night. In spite of my best efforts to hide it, my perceptive children will notice my deteriorating behavior and will start acting out. The calls will start coming in from their schools. And then I’ll go over the edge.

Late at night after the kids go to bed, I’ll allow myself a good cry. I’ll open a bottle of red wine and will drink too much of it. I’ll immediately recognize that I’m crashing, I’m drinking too much red wine, and that I need to dig myself out of the hole I’ve created for myself.

I’ll contact a psychiatric professional. I’ll get advice. I’ll write lists. I’ll figure out what needs to change. I’ll draft my plan and put it into action. Before the ink is dry, I’ll immediately feel better. I’ll start sleeping soundly again. With my plan underway, my children will show behavioral improvement. I’ll relax, crossing off pending items off my “get my life together” list.

And then I’ll notice another month has passed and it’s just 30 days until I get to see my husband again. I will allow myself the briefest dose of anticipation, as I cross off squares on a calendar with my children. We will start talking about what they will do when they see their Daddy again. They will start reenacting exactly how they will run and with what force they will hug him when they see him again. We will begin to plan for our time together—what we’ll eat, what we’ll do as a family, who we’ll reluctantly share him with, and what he and I will do for ourselves as a couple while he is home for those few, blessed weeks.

I won’t be ready for it, and he’ll be in front of me, hugging our children too tightly. He’ll be in my arms, his smell intoxicating me with 20 years of history. We will drown in the luxury of his presence. And I will open my heart again.

Amanda Fernandez is an economic development consultant, writer, and mother of two. She blogs from her overseas posts at Argentina Stories and Ghana Stories. Her husband is currently serving a tour of duty in Afghanistan.