MY First

After months of being strong and courageous in the early midst of deployment, I found myself smack dab in the middle of my first (and hopefully, last), breakdown. While I don't recall a great deal about that afternoon and evening, I do know that drinking a full bottle of white wine, through a straw, on a flat empty stomach, already fresh from hours upon hours of crying in my closet as I tried desparately to figure out how best to pack my shoes in a large bag,  coupled with swimming in the neighbor's pool in the  Alabama heat, was not a good idea my friends.

I understand from those who cared for me, helped me dress, left water, crackers and asprin on my night stand, and left me to sleep in a fetal position in my closet, clothed in my underwear and my husband's  flannel shirt, that there was considerable crying involved in my mental checkout.  They also assured me that "shit happens" and sometimes we can only go so far until we break.

I am better now. I feel stronger now without the weight on the sorrow and tears I had been hoarding for so long. Without the distraction of loss as an obstacle, I can now kick the ass of this deployment in a major way.

Peace