A.k.a. Anticipation at its best
Finally.... I can't believe it is only a matter of days before Man gets on a plane out of the sandbox and onto golden soil. The original deployment duration was roughly 3 months. Now, by the time he will finally be in my arms, it will have been 5.5 months - thanks a lot, COVID19. Time has never simultaneously gone so fast and yet taken so long!
I hear from a lot of military or other long-distance couples that the beginning and the end are truly the hardest bits. The start of the separation is new, scary and just takes a whole lot of getting used to. The middle part is where you have found your flow, are doing your own thing and - despite missing your loved one - are actually quite alright! You enjoy not having to shave any body parts, hold in farts or fight over the remote. And time... there is just so much more of it; it is like the days suddenly have 48 hours in them (the last five months have quite possibly been the most productive ones of my entire life). The end gets difficult get again, for multiple reasons.There is the incredible excitement and subsequent sleepless nights. And then there is the fear... Fear of change. This may sound odd for those of who you who never had to experience a prolonged time apart from your significant other, but there is actual - legitimate - fear of reintegration. After months apart the home-staying partner (HSP) has found their own rhythm, their own way of doing things, has done a make-over of at least part - if not all - of the house, changed diets and habits and more. These changes are generally positive and demonstrate the growth the HSP has gone through, but can feel rather threatening to the home-coming partner (HCP) who fears being a guest or - worse - an intruder in his (or her) own house. Experienced military couples speak of an initial honeymoon-phase followed by the nitty-gritty-argument phase, where irritations about little things pop up. All a natural part of the reintegration process. On top of that HCP has just said goodbye to a very challenging and fulfilling chapter of his (or her) life and has to make to the switch from daily high action work to a lower pace, normal base life. Again: Change with a capital C. I am grateful that Man and I both have these fears and even more grateful that we have such a loving, constructive space to share them in. In these homecoming situations, an absence of fear equals nativity and a set-up for failure, which was painfully demonstrated in our reintegration January '19 after the RAAF separated us for an entire year. We expected nothing but rainbows and butterflies moving into a new city/new home together, but instead ending up failing the infamous Ikea relationship test where we left the store fighting over the desired type of couch and even the 'ideal' colour of scented candles...
A challenge specific to this homecoming is the fact that once Man lands back on Australian soil, I cannot go and see him, touch him, even be near him. All incoming travellers will immediately be shuttled away to designated quarantaine hotels (again: thanks a lot COVID19). Once there his conditions will be worse than that of prisoners because at least prisoners get courtyard time, get to go the library, workshops, recreation etc. Man and everyone else in those quarantaine hotels are literally locked-up; hallways patrolled by soldiers. Completely confined to their four walls - eight if you count the bathroom. Very tough conditions for him and - to a lesser extent - also for me. He will be so close, and yet so far! I have devised many a plan to sneak in, ranging from dressing up as maid to hiding in a catering trolley - any suggestions are more than welcome! To safeguard his mental health in case my sneaky plans fail, Man has decided to focus on Japanese study, online workouts, playing games and reading books. He has also sent me a list of items to be dropped off at the hotel reception:
A bottle of single-malt whisky
A bottle of wine
Weight plates
A weight vest
A kettlebell
A yoga mat
When I read this list to Man's troop* (whom I am good friends with) on the phone this morning, she laughed and aptly remarked: "alcohol and fitness gear, yup, that just about sums Man up".
Now, if you will excuse me, I am off to take a nanna nap to compensate for them sleepless nights. If you don't hear from me in the next few weeks, I have successfully managed to infiltrate the hotel room ;)
PS: The Vance Joy song 'we are going home' is aptly stuck in my head (have a listen, it's beautiful!).
* For those unfamiliar with military jargon, that his direct subordinate