"By keeping them in you're giving them permission to consume you..."

Today is not a good day.

Yesterday wasn't a good day.

But tomorrow, I'm going to try to make it better than it was today.

His leaving day still stings… It never fails to make my heart squeeze in pain. I'm haunted by that last look we gave each other, one of grief, feigned strength, and the promise of a “one day this will be over”. I stood there, rooted on the spot where I last kissed him, for a full minute after the buses drove away… As I watched them go, I felt my heart ripping out of my chest and I could barely catch my breath. I felt like I was suffocating - I was drowning in sorrow, drowning in the warm summer air.

That feeling hasn't left my chest. I've tried to cry it out, scream it out, work it out, eat it out, sleep it out, and nothing has made it go away. “This is normal… We can't be in Afghanistan and sometimes all we can do is wear our rings and continue to be proud. We know that the person we talk to on Skype isn't always going to be our husband but we know he's in there…somewhere. We have to fight our own battles here, fight for that person that we love that is fighting to get home to us”.

Well, here I am, fighting the fight of my life and we've still got months until we're done.

I feel like it's beaten me and we've barely just started. I've been trying to keep these emotions in, trying to pretend like theyre not consuming me… But all I can think about is how his shirts are starting to smell less like him and more like me, how I'm starting to forget what it feels like to kiss him, how I don't remember what it feels like to hold his hand. I miss the feeling that I got whenever he smiled at me and I miss how he smelled right after he got out of the shower. I miss all the little things that I took for granted when he was home - now, I have to wait until next year to get those things back again.

I wish for a day of happiness, a day of joy, a day where I don't know this sadness… But that ever present, painful, squeezing feeling in my heart demands that I give it attention; I've tried to ignore it but it is to no avail. There is no forgetting it, because it screams at me in the dead of night, “This hurts, damnit. I want my other half back.” But I can't do anything, so I roll over and force the squeezing to stop for just long enough to fall asleep.

So, these are how my days go: wake up, get dressed, eat (sometimes), work out, errands, this, and then I do it all over again the next day. Every day is like a race to the end - it's the end of one more day away from my husband, and one day closer to seeing him again. By the time I lay down in bed, I am exhausted in every way: my mind hurts, my heart hurts, my body hurts, everything than can hurt, does hurt.

So, with my hurt, I go on with life and so does he. We are going on with our lives, separately, but finding a way to make this work. I hope he knows how much I love him. I hope he knows that I'm doing the best that I can. I hope he knows that I'm stronger than I look. I hope he knows how proud of him I am and that it's an honor to be married to someone as wonderful as he is. I hope he knows that as much as I hate this deployment, I love him more. I hope he knows that I'm not going anywhere, ever, and that I'll be waiting for him when he comes home.

In 9 months, all these tears will be worth it. In 9 months, I'll be able to let my emotions run rampant. In 9 months, my heart will stop squeezing in pain and start beating with joy. In 9 months, I'll have my husband home with me…

and that will be the greatest day of my life.