Love, and the Military

The drive to the send-off with his parents was the longest drive of my life. What was originally 30 minutes, felt like 30 hours.

It was his birthday, and I was on my way to watch him walk away. I was on my way to watch him leave me for months. I was there to get my heart broken. I hid everything I possibly could on the way there. While his parents talked about him, and while I kept looking at my cell phone in hopes of... in hopes of a way out. Perhaps it had all been some big joke. Or maybe he’d change his mind.

We should’ve been celebrating something different.

Joining the military is a brave and courageous act, there is no doubt about that. But with the current state of mind, and our county, it was difficult to process. The internal conflict of feeling proud of a loved one, but maybe not for their cause. When the night before I’d let myself cry to him over the phone. I wondered what I did to deserve this, when things had finally begun to feel okay.

Upon arriving at an old, worn down brick building to watch him go, it all felt even more real. Waiting in the cold to be let in one by one, to be searched. That’s also when the dehumanization began. The realization my boyfriend and I were no longer of the same status. He was more important, which was understandable to a degree.

My heart was breaking.

Walking into what felt like a dim hospital waiting room, I saw him right away. I wanted to give a genuine smile, along with desperately wanting to turn around and run away. Every little touch and kiss from then on didn’t feel as it should’ve. Perhaps because I myself wasn’t all there. We sat with his parents, and I let my own selfishness overpower the fact I was proud of him. I stared at everything but him. I wanted to wake up from this nightmare I knew was coming.

But I was also angry, terrified. I didn’t understand.

When the time came to watch him swear in, we mouthed an “I love you,” and our contact was not only limited but non-existent. I don’t have much time.

And my heart was still breaking.

The podium, the flags, none of it made sense to me. Watching each and every soon-to-be airman line up to give their souls to this country. And the final moment, the final goodbye, it’s a blur in my head and it was a blur in the moment itself. A quick kiss, another “I love you.” A battle in my head to ask him for just one more hug.

I didn’t. I watched him walk away and that was it. A piece of me was gone. There was a hole in my chest and yet it still felt so tight. I thought back to all of the times I considered ending it. I thought back to all of the times I wondered why he hadn’t just told me he was joining. It wouldn’t have changed my love, but I could’ve been more prepared. I could’ve spared a least a small bit of myself.

I cried that night, the night after, and the night after.

We’d had a very brief text conversation when his plane landed. But that was it. He vanished.

When under the illusion that your lover is gone, or doesn’t exist, or maybe even dead—your world collapses. I knew he was out there, but I couldn’t feel him. A person who I spoke to every single day, who I loved with all my heart, had dropped off of the face of the earth. It was almost like he never existed to begin with.

It wasn’t until I’d gotten my first letter from him, I knew he was still alive both physically and in spirit. And the letters after that. Our first phone call, to our second. Every day felt like a weight on my heart. I was able to push on, get through school, find a new job. I was able to convince myself everything was okay. Every time I’d check the mailbox, every time I’d send my own letter out. It found it.. unfair.

Why me, of all people? After walking through hell and back, I finally found something good and it turned into another hell on earth.

The people around me were no help. I’d found out he had sent something to his ex-girlfriend, who was never any good for him. That was when my downward spiral had begun.

To give background, the beginning of our relationship involved her. It felt like I was dating both of them because she was so involved. He let her be involved, he let himself hold onto her even though she lied, neglected, and brought attention to herself in sick twisted ways. When you have to compete with someone your current lover once loved, it feels like you may as well just step back. It feels like you’re not the one being chosen when you should be.

But I held on.

I held on even when I didn’t feel like his first choice. Because I realized he needed guidance, someone in his life to actively redirect him.

Long distance, especially in one my own, is a constant state of wondering when it’s okay to end things or keep going.

If anyone who reads this is in a new military-driven relationship or is going to be soon, I have advice for you.

Write to your lover every day. Every single day. Even when they aren’t in basic training anymore. It helps you feel grounded and it’s a great way to get your thoughts out. Communication is important, I’m sure that isn’t news. Take the time to listen, while also taking the time to be heard. Know that things are ultimately always your choice. There’s so much more to life than heartbreak, or wishing things were different.

With a relationship such as this one, where your lover is controlled in everything they do, it can be hard to hold on. It can be hard to process. But a routine is important.

Because now that I’ve chosen to hold on, I’m getting married in November. To the man I watched walk away. I will be attending school in Hawaii, and I’ll be happy. All of this pain, insecurity, and self-doubt will all be worth it.

It isn’t always worth it for everyone, that’s for sure. But if you know, and if you feel it—

Make that choice yourself.