My husband has recently returned from being away for eight days with the military.
I had mixed feelings about him going away. Following D-Day almost 18 months ago, he has turned down all out-of-town assignments. He knew I wouldn’t stand for it. He knew he had to stay. The thought of him going anywhere made me furious. He didn’t even ask me if he could leave. He wouldn’t dare.
Well, obviously that was then and this is now. When the annual military leave came up this year, he simply assumed he was going. This year is the centenary of the ANZAC landing at Gallipoli and there are official military events happening all over the place. Which I understood. And was why I didn’t put my foot down and tell him he had to stay. I would never have taken that away from him. But he could have at least offered, knowing how badly it triggered me.
So off he went, away with the military, and of course Gina the overweight giraffe – the cause of all my angst. She’s the silly 20-year old bitch who sent my husband flirty messages, which I discovered about a month after D-Day. She fucking loves all the attention from the men in the unit; she absolutely laps it up. A female in a military unit isn’t exactly commonplace, so she thrives on the novelty factor, batting her eyelids at any man within cooee. Silly slut.
The thought of him going away to a place where he’d be with that fucking whore triggered a tsunami of anger within me. I acted as normal as I could, as the kids were now on school holidays and I didn’t want them to sense anything was wrong.
I found myself feeling angrier than usual that week, constantly on edge and close to “snapping point”. If anything even slightly pissed me off, I went nuts! To make matters worse, my husband decided to come home on two of the evenings he was away, probably out of obligation or knowing how mad I was. So then I had to deal with his departure in the mornings again. A reminder that he was going back to the same place the silly skank was. He should have just stayed away so I didn’t have to see his stupid face.
At some point during his absence, I sent him an angry text message:
“If I find out you’ve spoken even ONE WORD socially to that little bitch, we won’t have a marriage left to “work on”. Take your martial problems to someone else.”
“I haven’t. I don’t. And I don’t take them to anyone.”
And that was how things sat for a couple of days.
We are so shit at communicating.
When he returned home for good at the end of his military stint, I didn’t speak to him for days.
A week later and I’ve only JUST defrosted.
I thought I was passed this phase of clamming up but I guess not.
There WILL be shit days. They become fewer as time goes on but they never completely disappear.
A sobering thought.