A ship in harbour ...

A ship in harbour is safe, but that's not what ships are built for.

John A Shedd, 1928

As I mentioned before Sebastian has a few unresolved issues from his last tour, and we hope one of them will be resolved in the next month or so.  He was talking to his CO about it the other day, and if the outcome is the one we are hoping for, S asked to be re-deployed to the sand, to finish some business he considers unfinished.

If it happened, it would be his 5th deployment to the sand.  Which is one thing.  But then he added himself "My CO thinks I'm crazy - he knows my luck has to run out sometime."

I *know* this is his job.  I know this is part of what makes him who he is.  And I know that if it wasn't that particular sandbox, it would be somewhere else.  But damnit, he hasn't even been home for a year yet.  And I know that the changes to Canada's role in Afghanistan, and the PR that is being released through our government, is meant to reassure the general public that our soldiers who are still there are in a lot less danger.

I am not the gerenal public.  I am not that easily soothed.

I also *know* he talked like this before he went last time ... and came back unharmed.  I *know* soldiers do this.

But it still sucks.  Big, at the moment.  And I *know* that is part of this life, too. 

Just like I *know* I shouldn't borrow trouble by worrying about something that hasn't happened yet, and may never happen.  And if it's going to happen, it will take a while to make it happen.

~sigh~

I *know* so much, you think I'd be able to deal, eh?

I'll be OK.  I just needed to vent.  And snuggle my bear ...

Modern Communication: The double edged sword.

I had been thinking for a while, and Coffey raised the point, regarding how different modern MilSpouses have it, compared to the communications that WWI and WWII wives/parents had.

Sattelite phones.  Video calls.  E-mail.  MSN.  Blogs.  FaceBook.  Canada Post outlets on bases, mail service and parcel service through the forces.

If we need to make a decision on something, need to talk something over, bounce an idea off our partner, we can.  We get regular reassurance that they are safe, well, alive.

Until it stops.

Spouses in the day of snail-mail only knew that they were holding the fort on their own.  They knew that they had to be mom & dad, make those decisions with whatever support network they had in place.  They didn't expect letters, and were, I am guessing, happy when they did get one.  A lack of communication didn't make the dark nights any darker. No news was, often, good news.

I am not in any way saying that I would give up all the communication and contact that we have available to us. Not on your life.

But when that communication stops, a small part of me wonders if, without that expectation of contact, my mind and heart would be more at ease.

I understand that the reality of his job means he will be out of communication from time to time. My brain knows that.  My heart resents it.

So I snuggle with my bear, and send him positive thoughts, send him my love.  I know he can feel it across the miles.  I know we have that connection, that he gets random warm fuzzies from me, and it gives me some comfort as well.

If you haven't picked up on it, no, I haven't had any contact with him yet.

(PS ~ No, none of the pics yesterday were of me, but they suited my mood)

Needy ...

OK, I have been trying to stay light and fluffy, but damn it that last Canadian casualty was too close to home.

I need to hear from him.  Just his "Allo" to let me know he is OK, mentally, emotionally.  I need him to make contact, for the sake of making contact.

I *know* they were on comms lockdown, and he is very busy right now, for the same reasons that I need to hear from him.  Knowing does not make it any easier to deal with.

I have gotten to used to regular contact from him.  He is too good at maintaining the connection, so when it has been a while, and when shit happens, I am waiting for a message, needing a message ....

Eight and a half weeks since he left Canadian soil.  God only knows how many till he comes home.

I thought I was getting better at this.

Letter to my Wolf

I have been having a rough couple of days.  Between the Wolf being on HTLA without me, and a few other things ... I am having a hard time staying positive.  A lot of people, including some of the Wolf's family, are telling me to stay strong, that he needs me to be his rock, his safe place; he needs me to prove that I am not the other women in his life, that he can trust me to be here ... but how long can you go without positive feedback and encouragement?  They say to wait until the end of summer when he returns ... but by the time he does come home, who will I be?  Will I have lost myself?  How much longer can I stay like this, grasping at crumbs he may drop me, followed by weeks of pushing me away?

~~~

That was not the introduction I intended to write, but it is what poured out, and I am going to leave it there ...

I wrote the letter below to the Wolf just now.  I haven't mailed it yet, and am not sure if I will ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am not sending this to you to provoke a reaction, to make you feel bad, or to elicit any sort or promise or response. While I hope you actually read it, I know I have no control over that. I am sending it because I felt I needed to say these things, to be true to myself.



A year ago was in (the states) with you, and finished falling in love with you. The next step in a relationship that had been building its foundation for over 20 years. We had a great week, I thought. We were good together. We talked about the future, made plans. You even made me go into a jewelry store with you to tell you what I liked and what I didn’t. A year ago we were excited about the future, the possibilities, and exploring them together.


Five months ago you dropped a bomb on me. We had talked the night before about the things we were going to do while I was out (at your base) with you. You started the conversation on Monday night by telling me you had leave to burn up, that you could spend the whole week with me. Then, within 5 minutes, you were telling me you didn’t want me to come out and see you before you left. You said not only you didn’t love me, you never had. You said that when you talked about a future with me you must have been drunk.


I almost let that destroy me. I spent a lot of time in a very bad place, mentally. But with time, a lot of work, support of good people, and a lot of reflection, I think I am back to a place where I will be OK, no matter what happens.

Through it all, I have continued to love you like I have loved no one else in my life.

A lot has happened in the past year, and as I write this you are (on HTLA) , hopefully having a wonderful time, and also maybe finding some peace, and a chance to think about your life, and what you want from it.

I will continue to love you with all my heart. I may get hurt, but I will be true to who I am. I have spent too long in my life living up to the expectations of others, doing what other people want me to do. This is who I am, and I will honour it.

I kept saying to you that I needed to know I occur to you. I see know that the gifts you bought me, the things I so ungraciously always accepted, meant that I did occur to you. I am sorry for how I always reacted to the gifts.

You say you are zen and you live in the moment, but you push me away because of “what ifs” far off in the future. You say you live in the moment and don’t borrow trouble or worry about things that “might” happen, and then you shut me out to avoid “potential drama”, and me “waking up 2 or 3 years from now and realizing I’ve wasted all this time”.   You say I am different from the other women in your life, yet still punish me for things they have done to you.

You told me you didn’t do the “typical” pre-deployment pull away that the literature warns about, but you emotionally discarded me before you left. And that’s what hurts the most. I can accept that you are physically far away from me, that you have limited access to communication. But the distance you have created between us mentally and emotionally is what has hurt me so much, what nags at the corners of my brain when I can’t sleep.

You will understand if I am confused sometimes by your words, and choose to look at your actions instead. And you actions tell me that you did love me, that you do care for me, and that there is still hope.

The thinking, the meditating, and the work I have done since you “dropped your bomb” on me the end of September have all led me to the same conclusion – we have a strong foundation, and I believe we can work through what has happened and build “us” up again. I honestly do.

I was seriously messed up by what happened at the end of September, but it forced me to take a step back and take a good long hard look at myself and my own actions. Part of that good hard look involved professional therapy. I freely admit I have some issues of my own, but I am working on them, and I don’t believe that they are insurmountable.

You told me in October that this was not about another woman; that it was about things you needed to work through for yourself. You didn’t, and haven’t, made me any promises about anything in the future, but you haven’t ruled out the possibility either, and neither have I. We did agree that if we found ourselves attracted to anyone we would let each other know. I just want to let you know that I am still committed to you; I honestly cannot see myself with anyone else. I felt with you something I had never felt before with anyone else I had been involved with. I honestly cannot imagine myself with anyone else. And it wouldn’t be fair to anyone else to only give them a small part of my heart, when it really still belongs to you – I would be living a lie.

I am still open to, and quite honestly hoping for, reconciliation, and a chance to try to re-build a relationship with you that goes beyond friendship.

I am still wearing the ring you gave me.


I worry about you. As I told you, I cannot turn off my concern for you simply because you tell me you don’t have feelings for me. I don’t worry so much about your physical safety, but I am concerned about … the peacefulness of your soul, your heart. I don’t know how to put in into words well.

I miss you. I miss you in the physical sense, but I was prepared to deal with that, and knew I would be OK. I miss you emotionally, and mentally; knowing you are there for me, the security of knowing that you care for me. Knowing that you had my back. I miss the reality of “us”, the security it gave me, the peace and the happiness it brought me. There are times I feel it still, I KNOW it is still there …

The door stays open.

Symbols of suckiness

So we all, or at least most of us, have talismans that remind us of our loved ones.

Besides my ring, which I am still wearing, I have a bracelet made out of boot bands, rhyolite, and tiger jasper, which I have worn all the time since the Wolf and I started dating again.  I only take it off to change the bands when they start to break down; and I changed them from olive to tan when he actually deployed.

I also have his Afghan Mission t-shirt, which I sleep in if I am really missing him (like tonight).

If I am at home and feeling particularly sucky, I have a big pair of grey army socks I wear.  And a CH-47F (Chinook) mug I can make tea or hot chocolate in.


If I am needy and going out, I wear the silver-blue pashmina he bought me on bloc leave.  If I am particularly needy, I don't care if what else I'm wearing compliments it or not.

At work, i have my *special* tea mug he bought me, with the kanji for Love on it; and the green tea he brought me from India.

So many things that remind me of him, and give my heart a little smile, and a little tear, all at the same time.