Time slips by

I will warn you that this post is a lot of rambling and kind of childish. I will also warn you that I try really hard not to complain or talk about Nate being in Iraq a lot to those who I'm not close with (or to some of those I am) but . . . most of the people who follow this blog are close friends and will put up with my antics (or patient and nice). So, I will say that yes, this is about Nate and it is about Iraq. I'm not trying to whine. I'm not trying to show off. I'm not trying to make people feel sorry for me. I just need to release this anxiety and I want to share the small lesson I learned to do (that's really not that small).

First Thing:
Usually when Nate has to go all of a sudden the next time I talk to him I ask the question, "What happened or can you not tell me?" He always responds with I'll tell you when I get home and I say okay and move along with my thoughts. Today, he had to go all of a sudden and then got back on about 5 minutes later. So the usual question was asked but the usual answer was not given. He responded with, "we got hit". He then proceeded to tell me he went outside (not under cover like they are "supposed" to) and that it happens almost every day I could my stomach rise into my chest and the goosebumps cover my body and everything seemed to happen in slow motion for the next few minutes after that. My question to you, Mr. Nate Norton (because I know you read this sometimes) is, "WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU TELL ME THAT!?" He responded with, "I guess I thought it'd be okay since we're near the end and stuff". That does not make it any less dangerous.
As a rule of thumb he does not share any dangerous things with me and I get to sleep a little easier at night. Tonight, I will not be sleeping easier. Tomorrow, I will not be sleeping easier. I will not be sleeping for the next 6 weeks (approximately).
In my naivety I thought he was safe. I thought that because he was on a base he was safer. I thought that really those "hits" don't happen as often as that. News flash: I was wrong. I guess I forgot where he was because we get to talk most days and he buys tailored suits and dvds and rugs and cleans his room and goes to the gym and hangs out with friends and does things that are basically normal (kind of) and that he'd tell me he was doing if he was in America and we were apart. I guess I just forgot that being over there can never be the same as being over here. I took for granted the fact that he appeared like he had it "relatively" easy (and relative is the important word) compared to some of the stories you hear. I really think there is a lesson in all of this. The realization that I do expect a little too much from him while he's over there. That I do expect a little too much support from him while he's over there. The realization that although things here might suck and actually be harder than what he's got going on over there (in terms of stress level in regards to work ONLY), at least I'm not being "hit". I think I needed that today (as much as it will suck to know for the next six weeks). I need to have a wake up call. I needed to make it less about me and be more understanding.
So the next 6 weeks of no sleep due to anxiety . . . will be well worth this small lesson I learned today. (And I will never forget the look on his face.)

Second Thing:
For anyone (I have a few specific people in mind) who ever dares call the Air Force the Chair Force again, please be reminded that your husbands/boyfriends/yourself have not been over there. Nope, it was vacation comparatively. So really looks like you're in the chair. (I realize this is childish, however, sometimes . . . I just like to be mad.)