Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Control Freak

Yesterday I was a hot mess. 

I went from feeling like the deployment wasn't anywhere immanent, to a flow blown smack in the face. It was like an atomic bomb hit without warning, and I totally panicked. I just reacted how I normally do in these situations: angry. I was angry at the Chick-fil-a kid who took our order wrong. I was angry at a mom teaching her toddler "chick-en...chick-en" over and over again while we ate. I was angry that there was traffic. I was angry that Tractor Supply didn't have live baby peeps for me to see. I was angry when Evan told me "I love you." I was angry that other people were -in general- alive and in my line of vision. 
I was really pleasant to be around. 

After I apologized for being crazy, and thanked Evan for not divorcing me, I had to take a minute and just sit with the reality of the situation. Its happening and there isn't anything I can do to stop it. You feel out of control and helpless, because lets be honest, we're humans, and humans love being in control. Being in control means sanity, safety, and stability. With a deployment no one is in control. You can try to do things to make yourself think you're sane, safe, and stable, but until you come with the truth, you are just lying to yourself. Yesterday when we got home, Evan and I watched a Band of Brothers to specifically find this dialogue. It went along with exactly what we need to do when letting go of control and facing our fears.

When I landed on D-day, lieutenant, I found myself in a ditch all by myself and I... fell asleep. I think it was those airsickness pills they gave us.

Uh huh.

But when I woke up, I didn't really... try to find my unit. To fight. I just kind of... stayed put.

You know why you stayed in that ditch, Blithe?

I was scared, sir.

We're all scared. It's because you still have hope.

You don't, sir?

Here's the way I see it. There's only one way for me to fight this war, and that's to accept the fact... that I'm already dead.

Sometimes I get disappointed with myself when I act so angry, to feel in control for no reason. In the moment I feel justified, anyone that crosses me is going to have to deal with it, without the polite, socially aware part of my brain turned on. I'm in control if I'm angry; I won't cry, because crying means I'm weak. Crying means I've lost the game; its beat me. If I'm angry that the Army is sending Evan to war, it means I don't feel responsible or a part of the choice we made as couple to serve in the military. It doesn't really matter what you do: clean your house obsessively, buy clothes, party, drink, have a new boyfriend every week, or fill every moment of your day with something to do, the facts are still there: You aren't in control, there isn't anything you can do to change it. It hurts to face the truth. It isn't any fun, that's why most of us would rather avoid it than face it. Letting go of control means we will see all of the things we absolutely suck at, we will see how weak we are, and will have to deal with the very things we avoid like the plague. 

Lt. Speirs knew that to be a good soldier, you had to let go.When you come to terms with that fact that you're already dead, the threads that hold you back and muddle your mind, will be cut loose. Good soldiers are already dead. As wives, when you accept the fact that your husband might not come home, as awful as it sounds, makes it easier. It gives you peace that God won't ever give you more than you can handle. For me, it makes the stress and worry of deployment a lot lighter. I still worry, but I give myself a line that I can't cross in my mind. This is the line of healthy devotion and delusive hysteria. Worrying over that certain amount won't do anything except add wrinkles to my pretty face and shorten my life. I'm not going to be caught frozen scared, wallowing in my hole of worry and sorrow. I've come to terms with the fact that my husband is already dead. Is it scary? It's terrifying. As I sit here, I'm forcing myself to let it all go and be completely OK with realizing I'm not in control. 

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