Day 12; part 2

Dear deployed boyfriend,

I have a lot of feelings, clearly.

What I think is almost as upsetting as not hearing from you is the repetitive cycle of ‘I have hope he will’ – checks emails – has an email – heart lifts in hope – email is from someone else/is junk – heart sinks lower than last time. And so on and on and on.

I just hadn’t prepared myself for this at all.

I just assumed, naively, that when you could email you would and that would be that. But someone on his boat has had email for days, and has emailed their partner 4 times. FOUR. And me? None.

Where are you? Are you okay?

I want to hear from you. I love you so much, this hurts, this silence hurts.

All my love,

xx

Day 12

Dear deployed boyfriend,

Miraculously, it’s another day. Yesterday seemed to last so long, I thought the tears and the anguish would never end. And yet sleep eventually came and tried to wipe the slate clean.

It hasn’t worked.

I am still waiting to hear from you, I have never checked my emails with such regularity or passion, and every time the email isn’t from you it feels like a punch to the gut.

I need to hear from you, if I’m perfectly honest. I need to hear you’re okay, I need to hear you’re safe, and I need to hear you miss me. That there are moments you miss me, want to speak to me, that you are finding this as hard as me, or at least hard. I need to feel you’re in this with me.

Because this silence doesn’t tell me that you are. And I know you love me, but I feel wobbly. This is so new for me, I need you to help me through it; but you can’t. For whatever reason, you’re not emailing me, and I hope it’s a case of you can’t not that you won’t.

Because if you won’t, I might break just a little.

More than I already have.

Day 11; part 2

Dear deployed boyfriend,

PLEASE JUST EMAIL ME FOR GOODNESS SAKE.

Honestly, I think this silence may drive me round the bend. Especially as others on the boat have emailed their significant other three times. Three. And I have heard from you a grand total of ZERO times. You’re probably busy, I know you’re working hard and doing a really important job keeping everyone on board safe and achieving what you need to achieve. I said before you left how proud of you I was, and I still am, moreso everyday. You were patient and worked hard and it’s paid off – you’re finally doing the job you love and worked for. I am so proud of the man you are, and so grateful that you let me into your life so we can build one together.

You are the love of my life. I knew it when we first dated, and I know it more truly everyday. I just hope you’re okay, and I hope you’re thinking of me and reading the letters or listening to the voice memos and knowing you’re very loved and missed.

I would just like to hear from you. To feel connected, and know you’re thinking of me too.

I love you more than you know.

xx

Day 11

I started this blog as a way of speaking to you, my deployed boyfriend, but haven’t found the words to say all the things I want to say. But, this is a safe space and if I can’t say it here to the relative anonymity of my own blog that I highly doubt anyone will ever read, then where can I?

So. Here goes.

Dear deployed boyfriend,

I feel angry.

I feel angry at you for wanting to do this job in the first place knowing it takes you away from me, your family & your friends. I’m angry that you were so excited to go, knowing how much I was going to miss you. I’m angry at myself for being so upset when you left, for not being putting on a brave face like you did. Some nights, I’m angry at myself for falling so in love with someone who always has one foot out the door to head back to work.

This pain in my chest is real, and visceral. It burns, and grows, and it’s full of anger and bitterness and swallowed down hurt, it’s full of all the things I want to say to you but I can’t, because you’re out of contact. I want to tell you how torturous these 11 days have been. How maddeningly silent our flat has been, how it feels colder and smaller somehow, how enormous the empty bed feels. I want to tell you how I have to force myself to cook every night, knowing I’m only serving one portion, having cooked alone and resenting the washing up I have to do by myself. How my arms ache to hold you and be next to you, because everything feels better when we’re together. How I spend each day feeling like there is this huge weight I’m carrying around, making me feel so tired and weary.

But really, I want to tell you how much I miss you. How I think about you all day, and just hope you know that I love you so much. That I you can, somehow, feel it wherever you are. I have never been so desperate to hear from someone as I am right now, repetitively checking my emails and feeling the swell  of hope when I do is almost overwhelming. I want to tell you how I feel like I wasted our last days/hours/minutes together being so sad and consumed with the thought of you leaving, and not just making the most of the time together.

I love you, I miss you, I can’t wait to see you.

I hope you get email back soon.

All my love.

Day 8

Dear deployed boyfriend,

So, you’ve been deployed just over a week. You left 2 weeks ago to do whatever it is you do before they go. I did ask, but I haven’t retained the information – what can you do?

It’s already pretty rubbish, let’s be honest. I’ve missed you from the moment we said goodbye and I had to watch you leave – in the really rubbish moments, I think back to our last night and morning together and I wish so hard I could go back and get a do over – I didn’t say everything I wanted to say, and I wish I had woken earlier, even though I was shattered and needed some sleep. An hour less of sleep might not have made much difference to how tired or drained I felt, but I would give anything for another hour with you. Just lying next to you, us holding each other, and talking. That’s what I wish for.

Just another hour. Although of course another hour wouldn’t be enough. If I got another hour, I’d want another, and another. Lining each one up so that I could delay the goodbye.

The rational part of my brain knows, however, that regardless of whether we had had another hour together or 12, nothing you said or I said would make these days and weeks apart easier. I said everything I needed to say; that I love you, and will miss you, and I will be okay. Anything else I could have said would have simply been peripheral to the most important things I needed to say.

I love you.

I miss you.

And I’ll be okay. And I am okay,  mostly. I go to work, I’ve been swimming and running, I’m watching TV shows I like and I read a new book. I went for a few drinks after work, and I’ve been making the effort to see friends. I’m trying new recipes and trying to take care of myself – I am doing okay. I am surviving, and trying to keep busy.

It’s exhausting though, because while I’m doing all or any of these things I am also missing you and thinking about you. And slightly obsessively checking my emails… While working, and seeing friends, and running, and watching TV.

It is exhausting. If you’re in this too, I hear you. It is so tiring, missing someone.

I love you xxxxx

Why am I writing this?

Welcome! Maybe you’re reading this because you too have a deployed boyfriend. Maybe no-one will read it. Who knows where this will go?

I decided I wanted to start writing this blog for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, to serve as a momento for myself of how far I’ve come during hard days of this first deployment, so that when it feels like I can’t cope I can see that I can. And I have.

Secondly, I have so many thoughts and emotions I can’t share with him, because I don’t want to worry or upset him, or distract him from the important job he’s doing. And also because, at the time of writing this, I have no means of contacting him at all. Dramatic bold for emphasis there.

And thirdly, on the off chance someone else reads this, maybe it’ll help them to know they’re not alone. And maybe that in turn will make me feel less alone. Because that has been the not-so-shocking stark realization of the deployment so far – how lonely I feel. Even when I’m with friends, or at work, I feel like part of me is missing. Which I suppose it is.

If anyone ever finds this and reads it, I know how you feel. It’s hard, and we’re doing our best.

What else can we do?