FML

The husband and I spent a year- a FREAKING YEAR- searching for our perfect first home to own. And we found it. And we bought it.

Nine months later he’s in Afghanistan and it’s a few months before he’s supposed to return home.

The husband: “I got orders today.”

Me: “Oh God, not Lejeune, not Lejeune, not Lejeune,”

Him: We’re moving to Okinawa in July.

Me: That’s another fucking country.

And so then I laugh. A lot. Because I have a 250k+ mortgage on a house we bought only because we thought we’d be here another 18+ months and a huge freaking suv that’s not paid off, and a child with special needs that is still being diagnosed. And a cat. And another child. And so I laugh. A lot. I laugh until tears stream down my face because I’m broke because I’m paying off credit cards that I maxed out to update my house- that I won’t even be living in for long- and I don’t know what we’re going to do. I laugh so much my husband grows uncomfortable and doesn’t want to hang up even though he has to go and do warrish type things- things he’ll never tell me about, except for in small amounts on the rare nights our kids are in their own beds and he’ll explain the hell he’s been through (the hells he’s allowed to talk about… there’s so much he’ll never tell me) in barely there whispers… whispers I won’t ever repeat to a living or dying soul. And so he tells me he’ll call me after work, when I’m barely awake (that time change is a bitch) and make sure I’m okay.
I laugh more. Maniacally, he says. I tell him it’ll be fine. We’re always fine, right? It’ll be fine. But I’m scared. Because we just bought a house and the economy sucks ass. So he reluctantly hangs up and I go grab the bottle of wine I bought to make pasta sauce.

I drink strait from the bottle. And call my sister. Her words? “I told you so. Never buy something like that while you’re in the military.”

270k in the hole now, but thanks for the comforting words. Love you, too.

And so after half a bottle of wine, tears over my 3 year old still not having a proper diagnosis and me refusing to leave SoCal until he’s diagnosed and me being, well, let’s face it- completely fucking broke once we’re all said and done- I hang up.

And text my bff. She’s a former Marine wife. She knows shit. She knows deployments, and kids, and life. She’s real. And there. And she’s fucking stunned with me. And laughs because it’s shocking I’m drinking at all (with an abusive alcoholic mother I’m not found of drinking in excess, but hell. Tonight I’ll make an exception) and tries to make me see the bright side. Sure, I’m fucked financially. Sure, I’ll be broke for a while. But hey… I’ll see Japan!

So tonight, I’ll bitch, and I’ll cry, and I’ll write this. And then tomorrow I’ll pop a pill for my hangover and be the hardass military wife I’m used to being. And you won’t see me cry when the love of my life deploys. And you’ll see me shrugging like it’s no big deal when my three year old doesn’t talk even though he used to, and no one knows what’s wrong with him. And you won’t know that I’m freaking out inside because I’m scared and don’t know what’s going to happen.

But tonight? Tonight I can be dizzy and drunk and cry and admit that it’s not okay that my husband is always fucking gone taking care of our country but I miss him and that it’s not okay that we’re always fucking moving and that it’s not okay that I’ll be leaving all my friends behind. I know that seven years ago I made vows and I was making them to the Corp just as much as I was to my husband. I accept it. I’ll deal with it. With a smile, even.

But I’m entitled to one night of regret every now and then.