Yesterday morning Jason got up at the crack of dawn to go to Boston for his swearing in. He is now officially back on active duty!
This afternoon he left to join his temporary personnel unit at Naval Station Great Lakes, an hour or so north of Chicago.
As is our fashion, we had a rough last night together. We are both sick, and haven't been sleeping well for days--Jason especially, because he didn't want to take any cold medicine for fear that it would interfere with the drug tests he'll have to take. We've been busy doing everything but getting him ready to go: Saturday we had to go to a family birthday party, Sunday we went to a family Super Bowl party.
By last night, we were both at the ends of our ropes--sick, tired, stressed out, and irritable. A silly, insignificant misunderstanding got blown out of proportion by both of us, we both said cruel words in anger, and we went to bed upset and hurt. Still unable to fall asleep, we kept talking. It went nowhere but back and forth and round and round. I even went out to the couch for a while so we wouldn't talk anymore. I went back to bed in the wee hours of the morning, threading my limbs around and between cats and trying not to wake Jason up.
I woke up this morning feeling the closest to hung over I probably ever have (I have never had a real hangover). My head was pounding and my face hurt. My eyes were fuzzy, my throat hurt, and I walked with a stagger. We avoided each other all morning, barely speaking and not making eye contact.
Jason hit a wall with his packing when he couldn't fit all of his bags and boxes in the car. He ended up repacking in a smaller suitcase and leaving some non-essential clothes behind. But by god, he took all of his video games, a little TV, and two game systems (he left the Wii for me so I can use the Wii Fit). He does have his priorities. Sometimes misplaced to me, but he has them.
He had taken everything down to the car and I was dreading the moment when he came back to say goodbye. When he came thumping back upstairs with his big suitcase in tow, mumbling and swearing to himself, I felt bad for him and softened up. After he got the smaller bag in the car, it was time for him to go. We hugged each other goodbye, but I didn't let myself fully into it. It's painful to say goodbye when a problem isn't resolved, and for me it's easier to hide behind my walls. And so just like that, he left.
I stood there in our living room for a moment, stunned, then hit the stairs (thank goodness I had pants on). He was standing in the stairwell waiting for me. He said he knew that it was me when he heard footsteps behind him, so he waited. I dissolved into his arms and we both apologized for being so stubborn. We butt heads hard, but we love each other even harder. We parted with tears in our eyes, but only love in our hearts.
I watched him drive away, then came upstairs and cried in bed with Jacob and Lola. It was a relief to finally have a catharsis in a positive way.
Tonight I am having french fries and cold medicine for dinner. Tomorrow I'll attempt to be normal.
Yes, the title is totally a Whitesnake shoutout.