Irony

The irony of my situation is "time": In one aspect, I just need a little bit; In another, it's something I have entirely too much of.

Yesterday was really hard for me... today, even harder. My eyes are swollen, but I have come to find out that with enough eyeliner and concealer, you can hide almost anything. I may possibly be channeling Tammy Faye Baker at this point. Get worried if I call you asking for money, with a by-line of "let me help you, help yourself".

But anyway, I know women who cry at least twice a week. Whether they do it alone or not, they admit to it. One of my friends told me she simply finds it cathartic, whether something is bothering her or not. I can't relate to this. Although, in retrospect, I have had times in my life that were bad enough that I may have cried more often... but, that's not the life I am living now, so I rarely cry. The only times I have really cried in the last four+ years, I can count on one hand.

1. While pregnant and traveling, I cried one night/morning because I was so sleep deprived from staying awake wondering if i was going to be a good mother. I reached a 'crazy point' where I convinced myself I wasn't. Poor Bruce, he woke up and had to talk me back from the ledge (figuratively speaking, that is).
2. While pregnant, I asked Bruce what he thought of my outfit, to which he responded "I don't really like the shirt with those shorts". That sent me into the closet in tears. Go figure.
3. The moment I saw my daughter for the first time, I cried big, fat tears of joy. Man, she was sooo cute.
(See a trend here?... hormones during pregnancy, and considering it only happened three times, I'd say that doesn't qualify me as a cry baby.)
4. In September, when my grandmother passed. Self-explanatory, I would think.

So, all in all, I guess I'm either tough, happy, or hide my emotions well. Or maybe, all of the above. The past three days, though... well, let's just say I need more eyeliner.

Yesterday, I had just finished getting pretty and came downstairs to see what Bruce was doing. Since Alyssa was napping, he'd decided to record the story books I'd bought for her. I walked into the room, realized what he was doing, and thought "Oh, hell no! I can't stay in here for this!" Fighting the sudden knot in my throat, I barely made it outside with the phone to call one of my best friends. I thought listening to someone else talk would be a wonderful distraction and might even help keep my eyeliner on the upper half of my face. Well... she wasn't home. Called Mom and she wasn't home. Called another friend... you guessed it, she wasn't home either! The third time I got a voice recording I was angrily, and selfishly, thinking "What the hell PEOPLE!?!? It's not like any of you WORK!". Shows how well my brain was working. Just as I was leaving my third message, I realized it was Sunday. Oops.


So, on to today... thank god it's almost over. Goodbye is THE hardest part for me. This is not the first goodbye my husband and I have shared. We've been separated several times before. Sometimes for months at a time, but it doesn't get easier. This one was by far the hardest. It was the saddest for me. Maybe because of the potential length of time, or maybe because I'm scared of being left alone with this toddler... I don't know. I did great up until we walked him to the security checkpoint. But, then he just had to look at me with those wonderful sweet eyes and say "I love you sweetheart" and then wrap his arms around me. I don't remember much else he said right after that 'cause all I could think was "I'm literally going to sob! Can't sob, can't sob, can't sob."  I grabbed a tissue, dabbed my eyes, told him how much I loved him, and wished him safe flights.

He's such a wonderful man. As soon as he reached his first layover, he called and asked if we wanted to Skype after he got something to eat. So, we did. It was fun, and I'm happy to write that I managed to get through the whole thing without a single tear. See? I'm already back to being tough. I just had to rub some dirt in it.