The Allons-y Instability (Or How Being a Military Wife FUCKING SUCKS ASS)

Ladies and gentleman,

I am in A MOOD.

Kindly refrain from talking to me in real life because I might bite off your head for no reason at all other than the fact that I am so fucking tired of where I am right now.

A couple of Reese’s Peanut Butter cups. Okay, maybe four.

Financial restraints as in this budget of ours is making me say no to EVERYTHING right now.

A fucking unfulfilling phone conversation with my husband. Goddammit, when is he coming home already? I would like for him to be home just once when I absolutely fucking need him. Just once.

I’d like to catch a movie by myself without relying on someone else other than who I married. I’d like to hang out with my friends without feeling like I am dragging the kids with me. I’d like to have a fucking week all by myself.

Is that too much to ask?

Unless you’ve been one, it’s hard to understand how being a military spouse does a fucking goddamn number on your head. You have to find the right goddamn balance sometimes when you don’t even know that you’re balancing in the first place.

You have to be independent enough to pursue your goals, especially when it comes to your damn career, but eh, you can’t do anything about them because you’re going to move whenever the Navy gods deem necessary. Or, better yet, you’ve been out of the workforce too long so good luck finding a goddamn job.

You have to be strict enough with your kids so they don’t take advantage of your single-parent guilt but easy going enough because dammit, they miss him too.

You have to be strong enough not to let stupid insecurities or petty differences start a one-way fight in your head but know that fuck, there is only so much I can take in my head right now.

I want to binge on Cadbury but I’m a dumbass and knew that I would one day feel so angry, so frustrated, so exhausted — why, yes, like today — that I would inhale the milk chocolate without tasting it. I knew that at the grocery store I didn’t need it then.

But I so need it now.

I actually feel like throwing up now.

I think I will go to bed, have a good cry, and maybe it’ll be better in the morning. Maybe I’ll dream of the Doctor dropping by in his TARDIS, whisking me away to a year from now. Maybe he will dry my tears and say, “Now, love, see? It was all worth it, wasn’t it?”

Wasn’t it?