Ugh. Apparently opiates are awesome for mack-truck migraines, but the "drug hangover" is almost as bad as the headache. I seriously feel like I'm detoxing or getting hit with a baseball bat. I bummed around today, cleaning and organizing. I got a lot done but had I been able to stand up straight or move faster than a great-grandma, I could've gotten a lot more done. My MIL went with Aaron today, and bless her for it. It was a busy day.
So by the end of the month everyone in the company should have gone on R&R. I feel completely gypped. No in-uniform airport reunion, no hang-out time, no being a family with our little dogs. I will probably feel gypped at homecoming, too. Aaron is busting his ass literally to exhaustion everyday. Right now, he is struggling to make a fist with his hands. He sweats so much at night I lay an extra sheet and a towel down for him.
I wouldn't pick any other life for myself because simply, I'm spoiled rotten in love. We love each other to the ends of the Earth and back. When I told him how awful I had felt all day, he put his arms around me and leaned his wheelchair back all the way down so I could sort-of lay on him. He let me order too much sushi because I thought I was really hungry (apparently the muscles around your stomach can be sore from drugs, too). Seriously- I have nothing to complain about.
And I try really hard not to let other people's complaining get to me because life still goes on. But some of it seems so out-of-perspective. Or even trite. I'm personally tired of all the blog memes because no one hardly says anything juicy. I don't care what you're wearing- I want to know more about you. I almost can't handle the minor military-getting-in-the-way complaint, but I was once so guilty of it, too. I'm not being fair, and I admit it. Life is life. Please, bitch away.
But there's so much pain out there. I won't know for about two years if we're going to join the ranks of those who only ever try to conceive. It's definitely on my mind that I won't ever be pregnant. I tell you though, if we go IVF we'll go balls to the wall full-stem the first try. But then I think that we could gamble on IVF, or put that money towards an adoption. Ugh. And we have to actually settle down soon, too. That is so foreign and weird to me. We want to rent for awhile, but then with the country's economy like it is who knows what these grants will be in a few years. (We get vehicle and home modification grants- and there are organizations out there who match or help out in other ways, too).
I need shelves in the apartment. I want to paint (yes, rumor has it we can. I'll ask for forgiveness instead of permission, though.). We need a lot of sheets. My mind races at times with everything. Appointments, appointments, appointments.
All I want, I think, is to go back to normal. I want to bitch about stupid shit. I'd take those money-talks-over-Gchat over this any day. I want to care what people are wearing or see pictures of their kids. I do. I want R&R, and homecoming. I want to decorate my house with sexually-suggestive signs about my EOD tech getting lucky. All that shit.I want my battle buddies back.
But if I didn't know before, I do now. And if I get a moment to be superficial, it's only a moment. Everything's different now, and again I am so utterly blessed I have no idea what to do with myself but I still get a little mad, and I might always feel a little gypped. I might always judge people on how little pain they've experienced, which isn't fair because it can't be helped. Some people are just really lucky like that.
And if that's my best, it's between me and God. It'll have to do.