They took it away

I’ve been told that counting down is a bad plan with deployments. You never know when a deployment may get extended, and when you have to suddenly add to your count down its depressing. I’ve even had someone suggest that rather than countdown we should “count up”. The suggestion was to have a vase or a jar or some sort of container where I could see the “time” add up and I could see how far I’ve come. Maybe it’d be marbles or pennies or some other visual representation of the time that has passed. The idea is that rather than wishing time away, we be grateful for the days we’ve had and proud of how far we’ve come.

It sounds more brilliant than it is, if you ask me.

I like counting down. Even when my calendar said 270 days I liked seeing the number slowly decrease. I bought a dry erase calendar for my fridge where I marked milestone days such as 200, 150, etc and then as we were nearing the end I had the calendar marked for every 10 days. “50” “40” “30”. Yes, I had 30 marked. At one point I could SEE that the 30 day marker was fast approaching. Well, maybe not FAST approaching but slowly coming upon us. I know to some people seeing the countdown the entire way through may seem daunting but for me, marking off the days and seeing progress that way was a morale booster. Or, at least, a morale maintain-er.

When I wrote out the calendar for September the upper right hand corner said “91”. At some point in that first or second week I had to erase that and change it to 116. It was demoralizing. It was excruciating. It physically pained me to do it, but I did. I whined and sulked for a little bit, but by the time October rolled around I was once again perked up and happy to write 87 in the upper hand corner. I marked the days that represented 75 days out and 60 days out…and then on November 1 I was able to mark 50 and 40 and 30. The upper right hand corner read “56” and it was like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders to see the countdown getting so low. 56 days – TOTALLY doable.

Then when the second supposed extension came out I was defeated. I was angry. I contemplated ripping down my calendar, but decided short of that I’d just erase my countdown. With tear filled eyes I erased all of my numbers and what was left was just a run of the mill family calendar. It held no significance and did nothing for my morale or spirits. It was just another calendar, one to add to my collection that I’m too embarrassed to admit.

The hardest part about this new “extension” is that I do not have a date. Even if I mustered up the courage and strength to strap on my smile and start counting again – I have no date to which I can count. Maybe he will be home in December, or maybe he’ll be home before my life at work becomes hell on January 5. Or maybe he won’t be home until I’m in the thick of year end nastiness on January 15 when I will be able to greet him with a “welcome home, see you in 10 days” kiss. Maybe I really am within that 30 day window I was so ecstatic about one month ago or maybe I still have well over a month to go. I don’t know, and it’s killing me. It’s hard to get geared up and excited when you aren’t even sure what you’re getting geared up for, so my excitement is hardly recognizable. I don’t have much Christmas cheer (despite the fact that I’ve bought more Christmas presents than I had ever planned to buy) and I don’t have that turbo-boost that usually comes at the end of a race.

So I revisited the idea of counting up. And I decided I feel the same way as I did back when it was first suggested. I have loved this year with William. Please don’t misunderstand. I have not wished this year away and I have thoroughly enjoyed every laugh, every cuddle, every hug and every kiss…I’ve enjoyed getting to know the precious personality he was given and trying to shape that personality into a well mannered, well behaved, busy little boy. I’ve loved it. But I don’t want to count up. I don’t want to look at how far I’ve come. I don’t want to think about the number of days I’ve spent without my husband. I don’t want to stare at a vase full of marbles and think to myself, “my, I’m a strong woman look what I’ve done”. I just want to look on my fridge and see the numbers “3…2…1…” and I want to run to Denver International Airport in my slightly overdressed ensemble and attempt to sprint into his arms in 5 inch heels. I just want it to be over so I can try to forget it ever happened. I want to remember the good parts of 2011, and I want the bad parts to disappear.


- manda