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Pining for my man and his touch

Posted on Saturday, August 6, 2011 in Army wife, Military Spouses

Written a few days ago…

Ever wake up some days and just feel like you’re a toddler? You want something—everything, really—and don’t want any help getting it, but you need help and you’re hurt if things don’t go right or aren’t about you. You’re peeved that the world isn’t revolving around you as it should. That happens to me with some regularity. But today I felt like a teenager.

Not the live-for-today, crazy, imperious, vibrant and vital teenager. No, I was never that teenager. I’m talking the teenager who is insecure, but diligently well-behaved, worried about the future, and feeling and fearing some portentous loneliness. I lived with that “I’m smart and mature” attitude behind which knelt the one fearful of asking questions and worried that she’d never be loved in the right way. And today it revisited.

I took care of responsibilities today, and missed my husband. I was smart and mature. But I didn’t want to be. I couldn’t stop looking ahead into the months of deployment ahead and fearing how I’ll handle it and who I’ll be when it’s over.

I pine for HabMoo like a girl pines for a teen idol. I think about him throughout the day. I wonder what he’s doing. I wonder what he’d say if he was here. I long for him to notice me. I read everything I can about him. Luckily he keeps a blog, sometimes uses his Facebook or Twitter account and contacts me directly through email and Skype.

So I don’t have any real complaints and the anxiety feels undefined. I hear from HabMoo daily. The deployment means we’ll have another honeymoon period when he returns. I feel secure in the relationship. Work is good. I have interesting and supportive friendships. I’m intellectually challenged. But I feel this weight, nevertheless.

When I wake up as a toddler, I need structure and routine until I find my place in the world around me again. I need to hold off on really important decisions for a day. I can provide for that toddler by myself most of the time. But the teenager is harder to support. The teenager needs what?

For me I think much of it comes from the absence of touch. I think my greatest fear of growing old is that people won’t touch me except to examine some medical symptom. Wives joke about missing sex, but what I really miss is being able to lean up against someone who stands strong and accepts my weight. I miss touching feet under the table. I miss the hand around my waist turning me in the correct direction. I miss the unconscious brushing of skin against skin. It’s better than any anti-anxiety drug for me. It’s that assumption of acceptance you can make when someone touches you. It’s the affection and support.

Touch quiets my adolescent mind and assures it that life is progressing just fine and that I have my place in it. It reminds me that I’m not alone in facing the unknown future.

Today I spoke with HabMoo and told him about what I was feeling. As I spoke I realized that I was looking forward only into the fall and winter. I could choose to look ahead to next summer instead. He’ll be home and hopefully we’ll have a new house. And then I’ll probably worry about the next schooling he has to do in another state for weeks, but will have the knowledge that if I could survive a deployment, I can survive a two-month class.

  1. One hell of a teen idol you picked there, dear.

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