Absentee Wife

It's Mouse's birthday. It's Mouse's birthday and I am not there to celebrate it with him. Right now, he is out and about in Denver, celebrating with friends, and I am working yet another overnight shift here in Cali. I feel awful. He swears it doesn't matter, that birthdays aren't a big deal to him. But birthdays are a big deal to me. I care. It hurts my heart to know I'm not there to make his day special, to make him smile. It kills me that I wasn't there to make him breakfast, or a birthday cake, or anything else that makes a birthday memorable. Instead, I had to settle for cupcakes delivered by a friend. Today, I feel like a very bad wife.

Settling In

I'm glad I waited a full week to write this next post. I'm glad I gave myself time to settle in and absorb the reality of my new living situation. If I had written anything last week, it would have been angst-y and full of remorse. It would have exposed me for the emotional wreck that I was. Even though I've done this before, last week was a shock to my system. I felt utterly lost, convinced I had made the wrong decision. Strange house. Unfamiliar neighborhood. Horrible commute. It all added up to misery. I don't know how many times I called Mouse, my eyes filled with tears, telling him as much.

One would think this travel thing, being away from the husband and home, adapting to new environments, would get easier with each assignment. It doesn't. It always takes me time to adjust. So, last week, I had to wrap my head around the idea of being so far removed, once again. It wasn't a happy time. But, once I got back into the swing of things, and back to work, everything got a little better. And, I'm pleased to report, that each day since has steadily improved. I still miss all the comforts of my home, but I'm coming to terms with my new, temporary living situation.

So, instead of writing about how sad and lost I feel, I can write about how confident and content I am. Yes, I miss my husband, but this assignment is going to fly by more quickly than I can even imagine, and will amount to nothing more than a teeny tiny blurb in the story of my life. It will be over and done before I know it, so I need to appreciate it for all that it is: a chance to grow as a person, an opportunity to become a better nurse, a great way to make some extra money, and the perfect excuse to spend as much time as possible at the beach.

Strange Days

It's a strange life I've been living these past few months.  Camping out in a cramped one-bedroom apartment with a friend and her neurotic dog.  Sleeping on a cot.  No television.  No Internet.   I may be living and working in The OC, but trust me, nothing about my current situation is glamourous.   At best, I feel like a broke college kid again, couch-surfing and partially living out of my car.   Although, even then, I lived more luxuriously than this.  The whole thing is so pitiful, it's almost funny.  I'm not sure what I thought life would be like when I signed up for this travel stint, but this certainly isn't it.

And yet, despite all of my whining, I have to admit, it's not really all that bad.  I'm making due.  Sure, the cot isn't doing my back any favors, and the whole situation is far from ideal, but it does remind me to be grateful for all I have back home.  It reminds me why I work so hard, and make the sacrifices I do.  It makes me appreciate the life I have temporarily left behind, and keeps me focussed on why I came out here in the first place.  Besides, at least I have a red wine buddy on my rare nights off.

Luckily, the countdown to the end of this nonsense has begun.  Nine days until Mouse arrives to bring me home.  Nine days and seven shifts, to be exact.  I'm so excited, I can barely contain myself.  Soon, all of this will be a thing of the past, a comical topic to bring up at dinner parties.  We'll all have a good laugh at my days sleeping on a cot, fending off a dog who likes to eat my underwear.  Soon, very soon, I will be back in my own house, with my own bed, and my own husband in my arms.  I guess that's another plus side to all of this, it's highlighted how the simple things are what truly make me happy.

Thanks, Thanksgiving

The turkey has been in the oven all day; its comforting scent wafting through the house, warming everything and everyone it touches. Our friends pop in, one by one, shaking off the Mile-High cold, to grab some food or a glass of red, maybe both. The football game plays in the background. Everyone is at ease, just happy to have a day off work and an excuse to over-indulge. It's perfect, really; one of those Thanksgivings they make commercials about.

At least, I'm pretty sure that's how the scene is playing out at our place in Denver. I wouldn't know, because I'm out here in SoCal, scarfing down a Healthy Choice meal, before heading back into work for Round Two. It's beyond depressing. I think I miss my boys more acutely today, than I have this entire travel stint. The holidays are so unkind that way.

I have to remind myself that this, too, shall pass. It's just another sacrifice that I must make to help build the future we want. Soon enough, I'll be home. This is the only holiday I will be spending alone.

Luckily, I don't really have the time to allow myself to wallow in the dumps. I'm off to work in a few, prepped for a busy night ahead. I can thank the holidays for the insanity about to commence, too. Sigh.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Grumpy Pants

Ok, Ok. It's time for me to stop my whining and take off my grumpy pants. I loathe to admit it, but this weekend was actually fun. (Who would have guessed?) I realize I did a tremendous amount of moaning and groaning as the weekend approached, as I truly did expect the worst, but I somehow proved myself wrong and managed to eke out a good time. Oddly enough I didn't even do anything special to change my mind; just being away from the hospital and with my husband and friends was enough to recharge my attitude and my soul. Besides, how many people get to celebrate their birthday by dancing the night away under the Eiffel Tower? (Never mind it was the Vegas version.) I guess life isn't so bad after all...

Vegas or Bust, I Guess

I'm probably the only person on Earth who dreads going to Vegas for her birthday. Most people look forward to a trip like this for weeks in advance. I constantly hear my coworkers excitedly planning what casinos they're going to hit and what clubs they'll dance in until dawn. Not me. Here I am, ready to hit the road at the break of dawn, sullenly wishing I was going anywhere but Sin City. I don't really expect anyone to feel sorry for me; it's just that I've been there (and done that) sooo many times before, and it's just not my scene.

Why go year after year, then? It's quite the conundrum. I could easily skip it, but if I want to spend my birthday weekend with my Mouse, I have no choice. This is a big work weekend for him; an event he can't afford to miss. And so, I begrudgingly tag along.

The sun hasn't even peaked out over the horizon yet, and I'm gassed up and ready to go. I'm headed east, through the suburban sprawl of inland California, into the Mojave Desert. Maybe my mood will lift along with the fog, and I'll be able to convince myself that this is going to be a good weekend, after all.

Cry If I Want To

It's my birthday and I'll cry if I want to. I know those aren't exactly the words to that old song, but it's where I'm at today. It IS my birthday and I really do feel like crying. I really, truly do. It has nothing to do with aging or wrinkles, either, I swear. I actually like being smack-dab in the middle of my thirties, after all; finally feeling like I'm growing into who I was meant to be. No, this melancholy has more to do with loneliness and disappointment than anything else, and I'm not even sure why.

The loneliness makes sense, I guess, as my husband is hundreds of miles away. It would have been nice to get more than a birthday-morning phone call. A cuddle or kiss would have meant the world. That's all a part of long-distance love, though, and I know better than to dwell on the maudlin. Besides, we're meeting up in Las Vegas tomorrow. Shouldn't that make me excited?

The disappointment is what really baffles me. I'm not even sure how high I've set my expectations to make me feel so deflated. I didn't even have plans for the day, and yet it turned out to be pleasant enough - wine lunch with the roomie, followed by a lax night with the bestie. And still, I'm left feeling thoroughly bummed, like there should have been something more...

Maybe my work-induced exhaustion is just getting to me. Maybe I'll feel better in the morning. In any event, I'm ready to sleep this birthday off, and forget it ever arrived. Humph.

All That is Good

Ahhh... Being home is like breathing a long sigh of relief. I'm finally back in my own place, utterly at ease in my own space. I can sink into my own couch. Snuggle in my own bed. Chop with my own knives. Cook with my own stove. (Oh - and spend some much-needed face time with my own husband.) Silly, I know, but it's the little things that make me feel at home.

As nice as it is to be back, this long weekend is almost a conundrum. It's reminding me of how much I love Denver, and of everything I'm missing by being gone. It's five days of bittersweet, knowing I'll be back to SoCal, and my cot in a cramped apartment, before I know it.

I refuse to focus on the melancholy for now, though, rather choosing to savor all that is good. It's a weekend filled with good friends, good food, and good wine. We're hitting up some of my favorite restaurants, new and old. We're taking a day trip up to the hippie Mecca of The Republic of Boulder. (What could be more Colorado?) We're getting in a good hike to tire out the puppy and take in the autumn hues. And during our down time, I'll stretch my legs and enjoy the spaciousness of our house.

So instead of wasting any time being sad, I'm going to use this weekend as a reminder of the life I'm working so diligently for. It won't be long before this travel stint is over and my cot-sleeping days are nothing but a comical memory. And when my life returns to status quo, I'll appreciate it all that much more.

Broken Record

Here I am again, counting down the hours until my shift ends and I can catch a flight to see my man. It's tortuous. The hours seem to drag by, as if in complete defiance of my selfish desire to rush the evening along. I want nothing more than for this night to be over, the clock to strike seven, and my relief to arrive. It doesn't help that I'm mentally and physically exhausted, navigating this shift in a zombie-like state of utter indifference. It's been the same patients, with the same issues, and same medications for seven shifts in a row. It's the dreaded ICU treadmill, and, in truth, I'm just over it. All exhaustion aside, I'm ready to be home, to relax on MY couch, and fall into the arms of my long-distance husband.

After Australia, I thought I would be done with this nonsense. I really didn't foresee myself revisiting this scenario ever again, especially after returning to Denver. But life and the lure of travel-nursing happen, interfering with my love life, and forcing me into old habits. I remember counting down the hours, just like this, so many times during my stint Down-Under, and now I just feel like a broken record.

This is the life I continue to choose for myself, though, so I must take the bad along with the good. Every adventure has its price. I may miss my Mouse, and spend many nights pining for him, but I am also reaping the benefits of this latest assignment. (I must repeat this mantra over and over.)

Soon, the sun will peak over the horizon, and this dreaded shift will come to a close. I'll board the plane and wake to find myself descending into the Rockies. And then the real fun begins...

Puzzle Pieces

It was, quite honestly, the perfect long weekend. We didn't go out for fancy dinners, or even do anything remotely romantic. We didn't book a room at a plush hotel, opting for more budget-friendly options instead. All of the schmancy stuff would have been nice, but it wasn't necessary. We both knew this weekend wasn't about the trappings of a typical vacation. Instead, it was about being together, about being us. And that is exactly what we did.

As soon as my boys arrived in town, all was right with the world. It only took a moment for my loneliness and apprehension to melt away. There they were - my husband, grinning the biggest grin I could fathom, and the puppy, wagging his tail so vigorously his body quaked. My own joy could barely be contained. After weeks apart, it was as if there had never been any distance between us. We were instantaneously a family again.

There's something to be said about our ability to fall right back into being us, about our ability to bounce back from long separations. I suppose the absence might make our hearts grow a teensy bit fonder, and help us appreciate each other a little more, but I swear that nothing truly changes. For better or worse (mostly better, I think), we land right smack dab in the middle of our old habits. We might bicker the same, as per our established patterns, but we also love the same, which overrides it all.

In retrospect, this weekend was, actually, a whole lot of nothing. We laughed by the campfire. We ribbed each other along our hike. We watched the puppy chase the waves along Newport Beach. Individually, each activity seems small and insignificant. But together, they help construct the puzzle of who we are. And after weeks of being apart, I realized that is exactly what I (and we) needed.

All Work, No Play

Wow. I just powered through five twelve-hour night shifts, which is never an easy feat. I've felt like a zombie nearly the entire time, making my way through each night as if I'm one of the walking dead. I'm pretty sure, by the end of last night's shift, my eyes were glazed over from total lack of sleep; my pupils fixed and dilated just like a neuro case gone bad. My throat hurts. My back aches. Even more depressing is the way my feet and ankles have morphed into the ever-so-attractive tankle-ish look. But, despite the wear and tear on my body, and my complete and utter exhaustion, I feel good. I feel useful and accomplished. I finally did exactly what I came out here to do - work hard.

I knew this is what I needed, less play and more work. It's a rare occasion when I feel this way, but too much idle time can sometimes be my enemy. Early last week, I caught myself slipping into a deep funk. I just couldn't shake the loneliness of missing my Mouse and my life back in Denver. Self-doubt had set in, making me wonder if I had made the right decision in coming back to SoCal. Not that my feelings weren't valid, or my introspection absurd, but I definitely had way too much time to brood. So, I did the most logical thing I could. I threw myself into work.

One week later, here I am, exhausted but content. I'm too tired to worry about the "what ifs". And I'm actually relieved to have a bed all to myself. (And by bed, I mean either air mattress or camp cot, depending upon which friend I'm bunking with.)

So this is my new plan. I'm going to keep myself so busy I won't have time to think about all the negatives. I'm going to work. I'm going to run. And I'm definitely going to make sure I have things planned on my off days. (Oh - and I definitely have some fun husband-and-puppy-filled weekends in the works.) If I can keep that up, my thirteen weeks will be up before I know it. Yup, I can definitely do this.

Crocodile Tears

I cried myself to sleep the other night.  Not just a little cry, either.  Nope – it was one of those full-on, gut-wrenching, sob until you hiccup type of cries.  I was such a wreck that I almost embarrassed myself.  I even feel kind of silly now, just seeing the words in print.  Quite frankly, it makes me feel uncomfortably fragile and vulnerable to put it out there, but that’s exactly what I did.  I lay in bed, listening to the rain pouring down in sheets outside my window, and cried until I had no tears left.  The strange thing is, I can’t even tell you exactly what the cry was about.  Some of it had to do with missing Mouse, of course, but that wasn’t the crux of it.  It wasn’t out of unhappiness, either, because I love it here.  No - the tears flowed for other reasons, feelings and worries so generalized that I can’t quite pin them down.  I cried because life is uncertain.  I cried because nothing is as simple as it should be.  I cried because I’m tired of making tough decisions.  I cried because I’m emotionally exhausted.

Being an adult isn’t easy.  Trying to maintain a sense of independence and individuality while nurturing a healthy relationship is even less so.  Is it possible to do what’s best for me and for our future at the same time?  I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing by staying here when he’s gone home.  I don’t know if I’m brave for pursuing my dreams, or if I’ve gotten lost somewhere along the way and have become just plain stubborn and selfish.  It’s hard to know what’s right and what’s wrong when you’re in the thick of it.  And, to be honest, I don’t know if there even is a right or wrong in this situation.  It’s all a matter of perspective and figuring out what works for us.  So, I lie in bed and wonder.  And sometimes, like the other night, when it all feels so overwhelming, I just have to give in and let myself cry.

Gone, Baby, Gone

And just like that, he’s gone.  The past eight weeks flew by.  One minute, we were having the time of our lives exploring the northeastern Australian coastline.  The next, he’s boarding a plane.  I knew our time together had to come to an end.  I knew he had to go back home at some point.  I just didn’t think it would happen so quickly.  Our holidays are over and it’s time for him to get back to work, to concentrate on building his business.  It’s time for me to focus on work again, too.  After all, that’s what responsible people do.  It’s just that, unlike the majority of couples, our respective responsibilities take us to opposite ends of the world.  Why does something I’ve dreamt of for years and worked so hard to achieve mean that we have to be apart?  It doesn’t seem fair.  I don’t regret my decision to stay, not completely.  I’m proud of my accomplishments and enjoy my work.  I just wish we could be together.  I wish he could stay.  I guess it’s the age-old predicament of wanting it all.  I’m not a fool; I know that isn’t possible.  So, for now, the best we can do is compromise.  For now, we’re left to make our own rules and navigate uncharted relationship territory.  For now, we have to rely upon phone calls and scheduled visits.  It won’t be easy, but it won’t be forever, either.  And when this is all over, when we’re living in the same house once again, we can look back on this adventure and laugh.

Here We Go Again

He’s packing his bags today.  His flight back to the states leaves bright and early tomorrow morning.  I knew this time would come.  I knew he’d eventually have to go back.  Knowing doesn’t make it any easier, though.  My heart is already sinking.  The loneliness is waiting behind the scenes, just waiting to creep in.  This shouldn't be so hard.  I should be used to it by now.  We’ve done it all before.  He was just gone for an extended stint.  But I’ve become accustomed to his presence.  We quickly fell back into a comfortable routine.  Life was more fun with him around.  He gave me something to look forward to on a daily basis.  My Australia will not be the same without him.  I’m going to miss him.