It’s funny how life doesn’t work out how you planned, sometimes. Or in my case, like ever.
A few years ago, I was newly separated from my then-husband, recovering from a relationship that had turned negative and poisonous. I was determined to take some time to pursue my own life, to be me and not be ashamed of who I was – be that my body, my personality, or my achievements. That required starting at pretty much ground level. Ground level if an improvement when you’ve been sunk in a pit, you know?
I lived with my best friend for awhile, while I tried to get financially on my feet enough to get my own place. Somehow during that time, a guy I had known from work became what I thought was my summer fling. He was fun, he had a boat and a truck, and the sparks flew. He knew I was planning to join the military and we both agreed our relationship was just for fun and companionship. He had spent 9 years in the infantry; he knew exactly what was going to happen if I did sign up. We were just enjoying each other until life took us our separate ways.
Best laid plans of mice and men.
It took quite awhile for me to stop hemming and hawing and get all the papers signed, but it was almost time for me to leave. We talked a lot. I won’t go all mushy on you. Long story short, we decided we had something special, something worth working and waiting for, and we decided to stay together. When I graduated AIT, then we’d decide where our relationship was going to go from there. He came with me to see my parents that Christmas. They loved him. My dad loved that he could talk military stuff with him. My mom loved that he would talk to her, period. My 14 year old brother thought he was the best thing since sliced bread because obviously infantry = badass. They all loved that he treated me with respect, that he worked hard, and that I was so happy.
I went off to basic training, and things went to hell in a handbasket (as detailed in this post). At least with the military. I really seriously considered going home, and our relationship was one of the reasons both that I wanted to go home, and that I eventually stayed. I wanted SO BAD to be back home with him. Back where I felt safe, and loved, and comfortable. At the same time I had to be true to myself. I’d turned my back on myself for a guy once and swore I’d never do it again. Yes, relationships require sacrifice, but that has to be balanced with being true to yourself. I learned this the hard way. If you don’t love yourself, you’ll never be able to fully love someone else. So this was what I felt I had to do, this is where I was supposed to be, even if it was so hard some days I thought it would kill me. If our relationship couldn’t survive this, than it wasn’t what I – what we – thought it was.
When I came home on convalescent leave I was really worried how things were going to go between us, but it was like I’d never left. He’d taken care of everything while I was away, even my crazy (really crazy) cat. He had taken care of ME, even though I was over 1,000 miles away. He’d talked to my family. He’d written me letters. Even when I couldn’t talk to him for weeks at a time and he had no idea when I was next going to call, he never once missed a phone call. My cat was fat and happy. All was right in my world. Amazingly. Blissfully. We talked. A lot. Decided we were in this for the long haul. So at the end of my 28 days I went back to finish training. Came home for Christmas. Finished AIT.
And 2 weeks ago, we got married. Now I’m in Korea. Hopefully he’ll get to come join me before too long, if all the paperwork gets approved. If it doesn’t, I’ll get 30 days of leave in about November and then come back to finish out my year here. We’ve been apart a LONG time. I miss him like crazy. But we’re in this together and every time something gets thrown at us, we get stronger. Sure it hurts. But he’s worth it. We’re worth it. I love him so much and can’t wait to make our home together, wherever that ends up being.