Since I found out Jeremy would soon be off disciplinary, I have been an excited, anxiously unstable hot mess. I have freaked out pretty much every single day for the past week, feeling the intense pressure of more change and more unknown. It’s so frustrating not being able to talk to him right now, to ask his opinion, to have him take my hand and lead the way like he used to. These last 9 months have been a whirlwind of being as strong as possible, helping my husband in any way I could, waiting, maintaining, being uncomfortable, being lonely, all while trying to be useful in some way that would benefit my situation. Now that we are seeing the light at the end of this tunnel within a tunnel, I am becoming more fragile than ever, anticipating and getting way too impatient with seconds, and minutes, and hours.
I`m tapping my fingers on the table of life, sleeping it off, crying way more than I care to admit, reading letters over and over and over and over again, finding new hope to hang onto while I wait for the next word from my husband.
9 months of no contact visits, 1 phone call a month, and hundreds of pages of written word. I realize that even though it happened slowly, that somewhere in the last 9 months, I have become broken and that isn`t the way I want to go into this next phase. It’s funny to see all the pieces scattered about. You just stare at them and become exhausted thinking of all the work you have to do. You have to pick them up and try your best to make them fit again. I know that this is life and we break and bend and repair and get stronger, but in the midst of it all it just feels like a big blur of mess.
This month cannot pass quickly enough. I want my contact visits back. I want phone calls. I want contact. I want to hit the un-pause button.