Lucky Me

There are times in my life when I'm overwhelmed with gratitude for the here and now, and can't help but feel so incredibly lucky for all of my blessings. Sorry for the sap, but this morning is one of those times. I woke up as the sun peaked over the horizon, snuggled in between my Mouse and my Butters (aka the puppy), to the sound of the waves crashing into the beach below us. It was so perfect, my heart just melted. I couldn't have dreamt a better start to my day.

My boys rolled into town yesterday afternoon, so we can spend a long weekend together. We've set up camp at the San Clemente State Beach campground, perched high above the Pacific Ocean. We spent last night around the campfire, making s'mores and drinking wine. Today we've got beach play and hiking on the schedule. My raging allergies aside, this is going to be an ideal day, and a well-deserved weekend together.

The SoCal Blues

I have a sneaking suspicion the honeymoon is over.  Yes - It's quite possible the charm of my temporary move back to SoCal has already worn off.  I know it seems short-lived, but let's face it, my life was thrown into an uproar the minute I accepted this travel stint, and the chaos is finally catching up with me.  I toss and turn at night.  I'm (ever so slightly) moody and cranky.  I feel an internal state of funk beginning to build.  You'd think I'd be a little tougher, being the seasoned traveler I am.  It hasn't even been that long.  I've only been gone for two weeks, after all.  Besides, it's beautiful out here, I'm having fun catching up with friends, and I genuinely enjoy my job.

So why am I complaining?  Despite all of the upsides (and there are many), I can't but help miss my bed, my puppy, and my hubby.  I'm working on a serious case of homesickness right now, and am not sure how to cure what ails me.  Quitting is not an option (or really a desire).  And, thanks to our mixed-up schedules, neither is a quick visit home.  So, I'm just going to have to tough it out, waiting patiently for my angst to fade.

If memory serves me correctly, I felt this way the first months on my own in Australia.  I missed Mouse, and our life together, so acutely it hurt.  I pined for him in a way I didn't even know possible.  But, eventually the pain dissipated to a dull ache, until I was able to see the value of being on my own for a spell.  The same will happen here.  It won't be long before I'm so caught up in work and my own routine, that I won't even remember what all of my moping was about.  So, for now, I just need to power through these melancholy days and hold on to the simple things, like funny voice-mails and silly texts.  They may not bring me the creature-comforts of home, but they will help uplift my mood and sustain my soul.  (And that is more important than any memory-foam bed.)

Back Together, Yet Still Apart

Mouse is out of town, again, and I’m left to mope around the apartment without him.  I know it cannot be helped; in his line of work, travel is inevitable.   He has to go to the auctions, because they certainly cannot come to him.  (And, in all fairness, I was the one out of town last week.)  Still, it doesn’t make me miss him any less.  Since I’ve been back, it feels as though work has taken over our lives.  We’ve both thrown ourselves back into our respective careers, and have seemingly become slaves to our jobs. 

It had to happen, I guess.  Even though I had a full-time job in Australia, we spent the better part of last year traveling.  That kind of lifestyle isn’t really sustainable, and we knew it couldn’t last forever.  So, now that we’re both stateside, life has become much less adventurous and much more practical.  And, for the most part, neither of us object.  Our careers are important, and we and recognize the necessity of putting in the time to succeed.  It’s just a little frustrating when our schedules require us to spend more time apart than together. 

More often than not, we feel like ships passing in the night.  Even if we both are in town, we count ourselves lucky to steal a few minutes together as my day is ending and his is beginning. Between my night shifts and his demanding schedule, it’s nearly impossible to spend much time together.  It can be a frustratingly lonely existence.  The irony of the whole situations is that I left Australia largely because I missed him.  But now that we’re living together again, I’m still missing him.  What a ridiculous situation.  It just doesn’t seem fair.

Poor Mouse

Poor Mouse.  I was so excited when he agreed to come to Brisbane for Christmas.  It was going to be our first Aussie Christmas; our first winter holidays in the southern hemisphere.  After a lifetime of spending December swathed in cold and snow, I looked forward to such unfamiliar territory.  He was hesitant, thanks to the exorbitant tickets prices, but I persisted.   I sold him my fantasy of us lazing about the beach, drinking cold beer, and frolicking in the sand and waves.  I talked about nothing but the imminent sunshine and surf.  Finally, he caved, and I started planning.  I booked a hotel room on the Gold Coast and a campsite in Byron Bay. (At $64 per day, no less!)  After tiring of the beach, we were meant to head inland for a little mountain hiking, wine tasting, and more camping.  Of course, none of that happened.  Instead, we got rain, rain, and more rain. 

Like I said… Poor Mouse.  He flew halfway across the world to get stuck in three continuous weeks of rain.  Sure, we had the hotel room on the Gold Coast, but were stuck inside it the entire time; not exactly the sand-laden days we had dreamt of.  Our campsite in Byron was flooded.  And heading inland was out of the question; that entire region had been cut off from civilization, thanks to the heavy rains.  Instead, we spent most of our holidays stuck in the apartment, watching bad television.  And then there were the floods…  Needless to say, this certainly wasn’t the tropical paradise retreat I imagined it to be.  Mouse finally left this Wednesday, nearly moldy from all the rain, and with a bad taste of Australia in his mouth.  After all of this disappointment, I may just owe him a weekend in Mexico.

Going the Distance

Four months is a long time to be apart.  Things change.  People change.  So much can happen in four months.  Even though we talked every day, sometimes even two or three times a day, we were living separate lives.  I wasn’t overly worried about it, but it did bring me pause on a few occasions.  What if we changed too much while we were apart?  What if he arrived on Christmas Day a different man?  What if our relationship had shifted in opposite directions?  Maybe that’s why I was a bundle of nerves on the days before his arrival and on my way to pick him at the airport.  Yes, I was excited to see him, but I was also scared.  The unknown is always so intimidating.

Luckily, he didn’t change and neither did we.  Sometimes that can be a bad thing, but for now it’s good.  He’s still the man I’ve grown to love.  He still has that impish grin and goofy demeanor.  He still makes my stomach flutter when he walks in a room.  He still looks at me in that way which lets me know I’m the only one he wants.  More importantly, we’re still us.  We may still get in the same silly arguments, but we also still laugh at the same ludicrous things.  We still drive each other insane, but love each other even more.  Even though we were separated by thousands of miles and were apart for way too long, we managed to hold onto whatever it is that makes us, well, us.  And that, my friends, has been the best Christmas present of all.

Merry Christmas to Me!

Christmas Day is finally here.  I don’t think I’ve anticipated the arrival of Christmas morning this much since I was six and desperately yearning for Santa to bring me a Cabbage Patch Kid.  Last night, I felt like that kid again, barely able to sleep, tossing and turning, waiting for the sun to peak over the horizon and the day to begin.  But this Christmas, my present isn’t an object, it’s my Mouse.  After months of being separated, I finally get to pick him up at the airport.  After countless days of wanting, wishing, longing, and missing, we’re about to be reunited.  I can already see his smile and hear his voice.  All of the stress and anxiety I have been feeling is gone and has been replaced with the calm of pure happiness.  My wait is over.  My heart is complete again.  I couldn’t ask for a better gift.

Great Expectations

It’s Christmas Eve and I am a big ball of nerves.  I know I’m not the first person to stress during the holidays, but this is a first for me.  Usually, I don’t have much to worry about come Christmas.  But tonight, I’m wound so tight that I feel like snapping at any moment.  I’m anxious and skittish.  I’ve been running myself ragged, trying to prepare for Mouse’s arrival, and am exhausted, but I can’t seem to make myself stop.  It’s been nearly four months since we’ve seen each other and I’ve become obsessed with making everything perfect.  I want the food to be perfect.  I want the weather to be perfect.  I want my hair to be perfect.  I want our airport interlude to be perfect.  I want the entirety of his trip to be perfect.  (Do you see what I mean?  I am a woman on a mission to perfection.)  I’ve spent this entire week readying for his arrival.  I’ve been planning and prepping meals, packing our gear to head down the coast, and primping and preening myself.  I want everything to be just so.  The problem is, I’ve built it all up so much in my head that reality will never be able to compare.  And, let’s be honest, nothing ever goes as planned.  There is absolutely no chance that our holidays will reach the desired peak of perfection I’ve dreamt up for us.  So, I’m going to do my best to let go and relax.  I’m going to pour myself a glass of wine, watch a sappy chick flick, and attempt to unwind.  It doesn’t do me any good to stress about the impossible, after all.

Two Days and Counting...

It’s the twenty-third of December, which means Christmas is only two days away.  It just doesn’t seem possible.  I’m seriously having a hard time believing it.  Sure, I can look at the calendar and see that Christmas is nearly here.  And the usual commercial cues are everywhere, announcing its impending arrival.  Houses and yards are festively decorated.  The shops are displaying all of their holiday wares.  The shopping mall will be open for the next thirty-three hours, hoping for hoards of last-minute shoppers.  We even had our work Christmas party last weekend, for heaven's sake.  No matter.  It still doesn’t feel like Christmas to me.

I know the weather is a major factor in my state of denial.  Lately, it vacillates between sweltering tropical heat with suffocating humidity and torrential monsoonal downpours, neither of which seem very Christmas-y to my North American self.  It’s much too hot to bake anything, so Christmas cookies are out.  My apartment isn’t decorated, either.  There is no tree to light up my living room or presents underneath.  (Why bother?  We’re headed down the coast.)  I haven’t even gone Christmas shopping this year.  (We’re giving each other the gift of international travel.)  

So, with Mouse not arriving until Christmas morning, I am simply unable to get into the holiday spirit.  It still seems too distant and abstract for me to feel any sort of excitement.  I’m sure this state of blasé “bah-humbug-ness” will transform into sheer holiday bliss as soon as I see his face.  I’m confident the spirit of the season will hit me at that moment.  But, until then, I have to keep reminding myself that the holidays are here…even if it doesn’t seem possible.

I Don't Need A Pity Party

People’s reactions are quite amusing whenever they learn Mouse has been gone since September.  Their jaws drop and eyes pop.  They usually let out some small exclamation of surprise and/or pity.  And they always look incredibly sorry for me.  I can see it in their eyes.  They have this look that says, “Oh, you poor dear.  You’re relationship is over and you don’t even know it.  You must be in denial.”  They might try to mask their thoughts and offer words of support, but it’s always there, just below the surface.  I know what they’re thinking.  I can feel the pity oozing from their pores.  In some ways, I understand.  Our current living arrangement is anything but normal.  Most relationships couldn’t withstand being separated by thousands of miles for an extended period of time.  But, then again, we’re not most people.

We didn’t plan for it to happen this way.  This was supposed to be our adventure, not mine alone.  But life doesn’t always go as planned.  We couldn’t have guessed that he would break his ankle, require a lengthy hospital stay, and an even more lengthy rehabilitation.  But this is exactly what happened and we were forced to deal with the repercussions.  His injury changed everything, so I understood when he was ready to go home.  Thankfully, he also understood that I was not.

It isn’t always been easy being so far apart.  After so many years of living together, and being such an integral part of each other’s everyday lives, his absence can be hard to swallow.  There are days when I miss him so much I feel like my heart is being wrenched from my chest.  There are days when I’m so lonely I’m sure the aching will never dissipate.  But those days are few and far between.  Most of the time, life is good.  I’ve come to appreciate this time to myself and can recognize the benefits of doing some of this on my own.  It’s given me time to reconnect with who I am.  It’s given me time to re-establish my individuality.  And, most importantly, it’s allowed me to forge friendships that I wouldn’t have otherwise.  So, while none of this was planned, it turned out to be a good thing.  I don’t need anyone’s pity.

He’ll be back in just a few days and I’m incredibly excited to see him.  I miss his smile.  I miss his energy.  I have more adventures planned for us and can’t wait to get exploring.  And, even though I fully appreciate these past few months, he is my heart and home, so I can’t wait to share more of my life with him.

Social Hypocrisy

I am such a hypocrite.  I don’t mean to be, but I can’t help it.  I went out all weekend – a house party on Friday and our ward Christmas party last night – but I don’t like that he’s out tonight.  I know I cannot expect him to stay in when I don’t, but I wish he would.  I wish he weren’t out with his new friends, whooping it up.  I wish he were sitting at home, wallowing in a state of misery, born of missing me.  (A little narcissistic, yes?)

In all honesty, I don’t really have a problem with him being out; it’s just that I am feeling a little miffed.  It may only be a little cocktail party, but he’s there and I’m not, so I’m feeling left out.  It’s silly.  I chose to be here and am happily doing my own thing, but I hate the idea of him having fun without me.  I hate the idea of him meeting new people, creating a new life, and developing a new social circle without me alongside for the ride.  We’ve been together so long now that I had begun to take such things for granted.  But now that were thousands of miles away from each other, it’s all changed.  Now it irks me that I’m not able to do these things with him.  It makes me grumpy knowing he’s laughing and chatting with people I’ve never even met.  Never mind that’s exactly what I was doing all weekend.  Like I said…  I’m a hypocrite.

Flying Solo

It’s October.  October 4^th, to be exact.  I can barely believe it.  October means I’ve been gone for eight months now.  October also means that Mouse has been away from me for a full month, leaving me to continue this Aussie experience solo.  There are moments, even entire days, when I miss him so acutely it hurts.  These are the times I ache for him and wish with every bit of my being that he could magically appear, even if only for a moment.  After living together for so many years and being a part of each other’s everyday lives, it’s strange to wake up to an empty bed and come home to a silent house.  I miss his smell.  I miss his voice.  I miss all the intimate details that are so easily taken for granted when you’re with a person day in and day out.  But then I have good days.  These are the days when the loneliness dulls, allowing the rest of my life to brighten.  These are the days when I can appreciate my surroundings and see the value in having this time to myself.  These are the days when I truly feel happy.  My time in Oz won’t last forever, and neither will our separation.  Soon enough, life will return to normal and all of this will become a faded memory.  In the meantime, I need to be mindful to be thankful for the present and all of the amazing experiences it's providing, despite his absence.  Because, believe me, I am having fun.