The Day I Hoped Would Never Come

Current statuses: Caleb just got off the bus at the air base (and is probably getting briefed right now, judging by his lack of response to my texts) and Sairah is kinda, pretty much a wreck. I'm sitting in our apartment, by myself, with all the lights on and blinds up, because being surrounded by light makes me feel not so alone. Music is also running in the background so I don't feel completely abandoned.

I woke up just as early as Caleb did this morning, so I should take a nap, but I just can't bring myself to do it. It feels too weird, too empty, to sleep in our bed without him. Nothing feels right. Not sleeping, not cleaning, not eating, even just being here doesn't feel right. But going out into the world wouldn't feel right either, knowing he's not just a 10 minute drive away anymore.

I'd have to compare it to having a really bad cold or something. I feel awkward just being in my own body. I have absolutely no motivation to do anything, but I can't stay in this house. (And today was supposed to be my shower day, so the fact that I'm not motivated to do anything is not very good news for my hygiene.) My stomach is growling from not having anything to eat since this morning, but I feel too sick to my stomach to put anything in it.

His leaving today brought all kinds of crazy emotions. I've been crying on and off for a few days, and I thought I would lose it last night, but I didn't. Well, only a little. Our beautiful goodbye story started yesterday night.

I told him a few weeks ago that all I wanted to do for our anniversary was to read the letters we wrote while he was in basic and read the notes in our piggy bank.

Our piggy bank notes were an idea that Caleb suggested to me in the same letter that he told me he wanted to marry me. The idea was to buy a piggy bank, and once a week we'd write down a memory that meant something to us, address it to the other person, and put it in the piggy bank- only to be opened on our first anniversary.

It definitely didn't turn out to be a weekly thing, and we obviously can't open it on our real anniversary, so we just settled with reading them all last night.

So we read almost all the letters and we read all the piggy bank notes, reliving memories that meant something to each of us, and it was beautiful.

I had made the decision earlier that I was not going to sleep this particular night. I wanted to soak up every single remaining second with him. So he laid his head on my chest and fell asleep and I held him in my arms while I played solitaire and Word Warp, Facebooked, and listened to the thunderstorm. And it was sad, but beautiful.

The next morning (today), I drove with him to work so that as soon as he had some free time I could eat breakfast with him. I was so excited because he actually had several hours of free time. We ate breakfast, drove home (which he wasn't supposed to do, technically, so I'm trusting you all to not tell on him.), did grown-up stuff, and took a short nap with his remaining free time. Sorry to be a little graphic, but it really meant a lot that we were able to embrace each other as husband a wife one final time before he left. When it's more about love than lust, it's a beautiful thing. We fell asleep for a short nap cuddling very close, and it was beautiful.

Then we had to go back to base so they could start loading the trucks and buses. It was about 9:40 when we got there, and the buses weren't due to leave until noon. We sat at tables in the motor pool (where they keep all the trucks and stuff) for a while. Holding hands, giving kisses, hugging, wrapping our arms around each other... Just being near one another as long as we could. Only leaving each others' side when he was asked to help load stuff for a little bit. We got to be so close, make each other laugh, and fall a little more in love just before he left, and it was beautiful.

Waiting in the motor pool. It amazes me daily how handsome he is. ♥

Then came the time I had been dreading since I got here in February. One of the officers announced that they would have a prayer (which was actually very good), and then we had 10 minutes to say our final goodbyes before they had to board the bus.

Almost ready to board the bus. You can hardly tell I'd been practically sobbing just minutes before.

I cried a little more, he held me very tightly, we said "I love you" a billion times, took a few more pictures, and shared what I would deem the most amazing kiss we have had our entire relationship.

This wasn't actually THE kiss I'm about to describe, but it was one of the last before he had to go.

It was so full of emotion, love, and meaning. The kind of kiss that only comes when both people are feeling so raw that you're practically oozing love from every pore. The kind of kiss that makes you fall more in love with the other person simply because you can tell how much it means to both of you, like your lives depend on it. The kind of kiss that literally felt like it made time slow down for those 10, blissful seconds. 

Google defines ecstasy as: An overwhelming feeling of great happiness or joyful excitement. I'm pretty sure that's the most accurate way to describe it, and it was BEAUTIFUL.

This was taken by one of the photographers who was just walking around. SO. TENDER. ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Anyway, now that you all have a pretty clear idea of how much I loved that kiss, I'll move on to the goodbye. I had to watch my other half, my entire world, walk away from me and into formation. I then turned around and saw the girl who I'd been talking to for a good portion of the time we were waiting in the motor pool. She, her husband, and their two boys were at the same table with us. Her eyes were just as teary as mine, we looked at each other and immediately knew what to do: HUG. Both of her boys were crying, which didn't make it any easier on us. The older boy actually came over to me, wrapped his arms around my legs as he cried, and held on for at least a few minutes. My heart broke even more- for this little boy who just lost his daddy, and for myself.

Just about to step onto the bus to leave. :'( </3

Another girl from our troop came over to join us in the tear-fest and we just stood together and hugged, closer friends than we were even just 30 seconds prior to that moment. It's crazy how much love I felt for these girls, my B Troop sisters, who were/are hurting just like me. The fact that we were there for each other at that moment of need was incredibly bonding, and it was beautiful. (I don't actually know how they felt about it, but that was my take, anyway.)

As much as it totally sucks that he's leaving, I couldn't have asked for a more graceful departure. If it had happened any other way, it probably would have been a lot harder for me. Thank God for that.

It's been almost six hours since he left, and that seems a little weird to me. I just can't believe he's gone. I know it will hit me, and continue to hit me for the entire deployment. But for now, I'm just going to begin taking it one day at a time. Wish me luck.

♥

If you're not sick of reading by now, I'd like to share another beautiful part of my day with you. Caleb is still in the country, and is only a few hours away until further notice. We exchanged texts on his trip there, of course. I don't know how happy he will be with me sharing this with you, but I want you to see how incredible and amazingly adorable he can be. But don't tell him you saw anything. Haha

Ladies and gentlemen, this is love.

Choice or Genetics?: The Homosexuality Conundrum

This post is inspired by the blog written by Josh Weed. Read his full post here:

http://www.joshweed.com/2012/06/club-unicorn-in-which-i-come-out-of.html

It is long (roughly 6,000 words according to an article I read.), but it is very well written and moving. This post doesn't have to do with what is in his post directly, but it addresses a topic related to it.

Let me preface this post with a few points:

1. I am not personally homosexual, so I really don't know if what I'm about to share with you is true or not. It is a theory I formed when I looked at the only two options society placed before me and thought, "There has to be another option." If I'm completely, totally, despicably off base, feel free to correct me.

2. This is coming from the point of view of a heterosexual member of the LDS church. THIS DOES NOT MEAN I HATE GAY PEOPLE. However, it is the belief of my religion that a male body was made to fit in a female body (apology for the graphic description, but that's how it is, folks). I'm NOT going to discuss love, which I believe can happen between any two people. I'm only going to be using the scientific FACTS of the human body. Whether you support homosexuality or not, I think we can all agree that a plug is made to fit an outlet despite the plug or outlet's desires, yes?

Okay, moving on.

3. Most of you will probably not agree with me. There are two parts to this theory, and some of you will read the first part and either be offended or think I'm crazy. Some of you will agree with the first part, proceed to reading the second part, and end the reading being sorely disappointed because the second part did not live up to the expectation you gained from reading the first part. I will only tell you this:

3. a. No matter what religious background you hail from or what ethics you have been raised with, KEEP AN OPEN MIND. Also, if you have any homosexual friends, please share. I'd like feedback on this.

4. If you don't believe in God, you won't care about or agree anything I have to say for sure. This post has to do with what God gave us and what He didn't. If you don't believe in a God, that renders this post completely irrelevant to you. Of course I'd love for you to read my blog. But if you get upset, don't say I didn't warn you.

Okay, here we go.

I'd like to present a theory about the concept of homosexuality being a choice or an affinity people are born with.

I think both sides have validity. In a sense, both sides are kinda right, and both sides are kinda wrong.

I believe that every single person in this world is born with a weakness or two. We are also born with free agency, the ability to make WHATEVER choice we damn well please. That being said, I'm just going to put my theory out there and watch as it may or may not get shot down:

I don't believe that homosexuals exit the womb as a homosexual. HOWEVER, I believe that the temptation for members of the same sex IS something they're born with. As they get older, they are presented with members of both genders, and they make a choice. They then proceed to formulate their lifestyle according to this choice. It is this lifestyle that classifies them as "gay" or not.

I don't believe that a God who made our bodies the way He did would actually create a being who is programmed to be attracted to the same body type. I do, however, believe that He would put in a "temptation code" which Satan can then prey on by amplifying said person's temptation for the same gender. This is again, the point at which I believe the individual chooses. (Also known as the moment when said person "discovers" they are homosexual.)

I don't even think most people realize that this choice is being made, because usually it's more of an acceptance than a choice. I imagine that there is a thought DEEP in the individual's subconscious that goes something like this:

"My whole life I've been told I would be attracted to someone of the opposite gender, but I actually think I like my gender better. I guess that means I'm gay. Okay. Word."

Some members of the LDS church are conflicted because they realize this temptation but know that the LDS church doesn't condone this lifestyle. Which, in turn, leads them to not be so accepting of the fact that their body just informed them of. People like Josh Weed have made the choice to ignore the same-gender attraction, and live the "natural" lifestyle that our bodies were made for.

Let me give you another example that might help put my theory into perspective. Our bodies actually do this type of decision-making all the time.

You are a small child whose parents have only given you Kix cereal your entire life. They tell you that this is the cereal you are supposed to like. One day, you spend the night at a friend's house, and they have Waffle Crisp cereal (which, for the sake of the story, is the only other kind of cereal made). You try the Waffle Crisp, and discover that it is 50 billion times better, even if it's loaded with like, double the sugar. 

Your body has made the decision that you like Waffle Crisp better. All of a sudden, you never want to eat Kix again. But your parents have told you that you're supposed to like Kix. It is at this point that you decide whether you're going to forsake Waffle Crisp forever or make the switch permanently. This is the point where some people think to themselves, "My whole life I've been told I should like Kix, but I actually think I like Waffle Crisp better. I guess that means I'm a Waffle Crisp eater. Okay. Word."

Do you kinda see where I'm going with this? 

In short, I believe that homosexuality is a temptation one can be born with, AND one chooses whether to give in to that temptation or not.

Yes, I believe that homosexuality is a temptation. So is meaningless, heterosexual sex. So is alcohol. So is committing suicide, for some. So is stealing. So is adultery. So is decking someone in the face when they are pissing you off beyond all decent reason. These are all things that we can be tempted with, and we decide whether we're going to act on these temptations or not.

This is not to say that EVERYONE is born with this temptation. Obviously there are those of us whose temptation drives for the opposite gender, but I am not talking about that group of people.

I'm not stating whether I condone homosexuality or not. I DO NOT want this to turn into a bashing session. I want feedback as to whether you, my readers, believe that this is a plausible possibility or not. Please keep all comments respectful.

Thank you in advance, and have a lovely day. ♥

If There Is Anything Lacey, Classy, or of Vintage-y Report, I Seek After These Things

I've never had a problem with knowing "who I am". That is to say, I've never had to lock myself up or travel somewhere obscure and try to have one of those "self discovery" experiences. I was SERIOUSLY ridiculed in my elementary school years for being who I was, but none of it ever made me change myself.

Except for when I was made fun of for wearing my pants too high. It made me realize that I had always worn my pants where my mother put them when she would dress me as a toddler. I spent one day being embarrassed about it, and have never worn my pants that high again.

However, I have not always been sure of my style. Since my personality is so quirky and diverse, my style has always been indicative of that. In junior high, I was a confused mix of "prep" and "skater". I wasn't part of either of these groups, but parts of each of these styles appealed to me.

In high school, I didn't change a ton, but kinda. I wore lots of bright colors and RARELY wore brand name anything. (Except for when I worked for American Eagle for a brief three months.) It wasn't until after I got out of high school and started seeing what styles the world really has to offer that I began to understand what style was really MINE.

I began to discover lace, which I ADORE.

Pearls.

Old photographs/photography.

Buttons. (I really love buttons!)

Big hats with flowers.

Damask patterns.

^^^ That's damask.

Flowery patters. (Not the old lady kind with really little flowers, but the stylish kind that are bigger flowers.)

Chandeliers.

Really old stuff.

All these things really, REALLY appealed to me. I seek after these things.

But I STILL didn't know what all of it meant. Then I got married to my wonderful, darling, dearest. One time we were driving around and I was thinking quietly to myself about all of this. Since I also love asking any question that comes to mind, I asked my husband what he thought my style was. After searching a minute for the right description, he said one word:

"VINTAGE"

A little piece of joyous sunshine leaped inside me. THAT WAS IT!! I'm VINTAGE! Not hipster, mind you. I'm not indie enough for that. 

But, vintage. 

Basically, I should have been born right about 1890 or so into a family with the last name Baudelaire or something fancy and rich-sounding like that.

Think Titanic.

Think Zooey Deschanel (minus the indie part of her).

Think something like this:

I bought this beautiful necklace because it embodies my style and what I love about vintage almost perfectly. ♥

You can't tell me this is not beautiful.

I also really love clocks. Love them.

Deep, down (which is actually not that deep down), I am VINTAGE, and in love with pretty much everything about it. I would also add "classy". Not as a personality trait, but as part of this vintage style.


But now that you mention it, I try to keep it classy, too. :)

Now you know. :) Have a lovely day. ♥

Confusing Complexes of the Being Married Variety

I've been thinking a lot lately about two things that both have to do with being married.

1. I recently turned 21. Now, I know that turning 21 doesn't appear to have anything to do with being married. But it does, and I'll tell you why. If you were to ask me to picture a married couple, I would picture something like this:

How old does that couple look to you? Probably close to 30, right? (I can say that because I don't actually know who this couple is, so I won't offend them.)

My point is this: I knew at 19 that I would be married soon. I was engaged and then married by the time I was 20. But ask me how old I feel?

Not 21. As I look at pictures of myself, I still look like I'm a teenager. I don't see a grown, adult woman. I see myself still as a senior in high school. And as I look at most of the other army wives around me, I don't see a lot that are my age. Most of them are older than me.

Don't get me wrong. I ADORE Caleb and I married him because it felt more right than butter side up. (Dr. Seuss, anyone?) But sometimes I get this complex. A complex that tells me it's weird that I'm so young and already married. Not that I feel that way personally, but more like I can feel that other couples (older couples) look at us and think that. Like they look at us and think that we're a couple teenagers who just got married because we thought it was a good idea at the time. But, that's not how it is.

I just wanted to get that out there.

With that being said, this next statement is sort of ironic.

2. I didn't think I wanted a baby until he got out of the army. Well, I still don't. But I keep getting this feeling like when he comes back we should start trying for one. Not immediately, but after he's had time to readjust and they move us to the other base in Germany because this one is closing down (yeah, I thought I was going to Italy after this base shut down, so the fact that I'm just going to another base in Germany is a real kick to the stomach.), then maybe after we get settled in, we could start working on it. 

When I talked to Caleb about it, he didn't seem quite as excited. I don't know if he really understood how much time I was talking about waiting (and judging by his list of things we'd have to "do with a baby in tow", I don't think he understands how long it takes to make a baby either. haha). After a short discussion, we decided it would be beneficial to wait until he got home and settled in to make a decision.

Anyway, that's pretty much it for now. I know it's a lot, but this is my blog and I'll write a novel if I want to.

Have a lovely day. ♥

So... Hey There.

Alright, well... Here goes nothing. I have no idea what I'm doing, so bear with me.

First, a little about me. I'm 21, married to a soldier, and currently living in Germany. I'm gonna go to school for massage therapy when I return to the states. After that... Who knows? I'm very much a Harry Potter geek. I am a Gryffindor, which is the best house of all. Period. You can add me on Pottermore if you'd like- I'm PhoenixKey3223.

My husband is deploying soon, and this blog will mostly be to talk about my life just before he deploys, during the deployment, and readjusting after he returns. I'll also be sharing some entries from my journal from last year. Funny enough, the months he'll be deployed will almost exactly coincide with the months I was waiting to come over to Germany last year. Coincidence? I think not.

Fair warning, this blog will get very emotional at times. But when you have to give up your husband for 9 months before you've even been married a year, you're allowed to be as emotional as you want, dang it!

The purpose of this is not to be dramatic or make everyone pity me. No, no. It is to inform the public (or those of you reading this blog, anyway) what it was like and what I really went through. Raw. Unedited (well, a little edited). Real. That's pretty much what I'm going for.