Monday, Monday.

There is something y'all should know about me: I'm terrible at goodbyes. Like blubbering mess, snotty nose, weepy, melancholy, herky-jerky speech and everything. I mean, you would think after college and living in places other than my home town, doing long-distance dating for over a year, a big, fat deployment and moving across the country to play Army wife, I'd be a bit more practiced and skilled at this. Alas, no.

Of course it doesn't help that I'm definitely the overly-sentimental type. I'm a total softie deep down and no matter how tough I appear/try to be, I'm really just a gushy mess. It isn't ever pretty when Swiss or my parents have to leave (which they did today after an awesome visit that totally makes me want to get back to Wisconsin), or when I leave my home/hometown. I just don't do goodbyes gracefully. And you know what else doesn't help? I'm a little bit weary. 

Now, I'm not complaining per se. I've got it good great. Healthy family, a husband who is none the worse for the wear after multiple deployments, we are financially sound, I get to go on two (2!) vacations in the next month, we have family and friends who love us... life is good and we are blessed. It's just that Holy Hannah- this retirement/leaving the Army thing is annoying frustrating hard scary intimidating difficult challenging. No, it doesn't help that we are leaving a secure, steady job and diving head-long into a terrible economy with ABYSMAL job markets. And no, it doesn't make things easier when deep down I really wish in my heart of hearts that we could find a way to make it back to the Midwest regardless of the consequences. And no, it doesn't help when neither Swiss nor I can come to grips with the situation as it really is rather than the situation as we are seeing it is and therefore panicking about.

Mostly, I think we are frustrated with the job options ahead of us. (Us and everyone else, right?) We were planning for so long to go the JROTC route for Swiss, then once that was settled, I would decide what road to head down on the quest for a new career. Then, after calling all of our Top 10 assignments, and the Second 10, finding only a handful of sub-prime openings... the picture starts to get muddy and deflating. There is the one in a shady town in a nice state. There is one in a nice town in a nice state (near lots of wine!) but ridiculously far from family. There is the one in the big city rife with crime. There is the one in the middle of nowhere with zero prospects for me and my career. Gone are the assignments that made perfect sense for our family. I don't know if it was bad timing, Karma or fate. But what we are left with looks more like the detritus at the end of Lollapalooza than anything. Oh okay- that's a bit of an overstatement, but after loosing out (or being mislead) on great cities like Denver and Omaha and sweet towns in Maine and Kentucky... we are feeling like somewhere we went wrong. Only we can't figure out how, where or why.

So now we are in recovery mode. Applying for jobs that neither of us really want in locations we think we want. Going to plans B through W trying to find something that will work, even though we both know it means jobs we would likely loathe. Trying to game plan a ridiculous scenario where a JROTC job will be opening up next year (we can apply in April) in a city we like and is close to home, so I find a job and we move there on the blind faith that Swiss can make buddies with the JROTC guys there and get that job in a year.  Because that is a great plan, right?

In any event, I think Swiss and I both need to remember that since he is retiring, there will be money, even if somehow neither of us end up working immediately. There will be checks every month, and though I hate that he will likely be given a high disability percentage, that too will help grow our bank account even more. We aren't going to be living in a van down by the river (see the clip just for kicks). 

We aren't going to be suffering and miserable. And worst case scenario, we wait it out and keep our fingers crossed for that JROTC job next year. (Do I love the idea of being 'homeless', mooching off our families- again- for 8 months? All I can say is UGH. But it certainly is better than the alternative? Right???)

But I guess the moral of the story is that things never really go how you think they will. Not to be pessimistic, because that isn't my nature. But optimism- when leaving the armed forces- won't serve you well. The big government jobs are a bitch to get even if you are qualified (and can take up to a year to finalize), the JROTC listings are 'updated' every 3 days but are really weeks months out of date, and the career market for lots of military folks are either based on who you know or sucking it up and taking some sort of contracting job. Isn't that the rosiest picture you ever did see?

In any event, I think I (and we) just want a solution to the Post-Army question that is haunting us. We want a job, and we want to have direction. We want to be close to home, but we understand (begrudgingly) that it might not be in the cards just yet. We want to get settled and stop playing the I Don't Know game. We want to get our foot in the door so that maybe one day we can get the job/location we really want. And we are mostly just ready to have a plan... that doesn't involve a van down by the river.

Crisis of Identity

First, let me say this: I realize how lucky, fortunate, privileged and blessed I am that I get to bitch about such topics. I know there are folks without jobs, folks who can only dream of not having to work, folks who are dying a little inside because they can't quit their jobs and do something different. I get all of that full stop. I get that, to some, this post will be whiny and you all will have every right to be entirely unsympathetic. But since it is my blog, I'm gonna whine about it anyway. Mmkay? So read on at your own risk.

Phew. Now that's out of the way... here's what's on my mind: I don't know who I am or what my direction is anymore. I mean, I know who I am. I'm me, not too different than the me from a year ago or the year before that. My morals and ideals and quirks are all still intact. It's just the direction, the drive, the confidence, the sureness that are gone. I used to know what I wanted to be, I used to be sure that I could attain it, be successful, I used to have confidence that what I was doing was good, I used to be at peace with my career choices because I was doing important things, I was good at it, and I was making money. Shallow? Maybe, but it got me through. Those things got me through a job I didn't always love, a job that stuffed my creativity in a box, and a job where I had maxed out the career ladder after 6 years in.

Now? Now I am a housewife, contributing nothing to the family (money-wise at least), nothing to this world of any real value, and not sure where to go next. I find myself no longer excited about the prospect of reinventing my career...  no, now I find myself terrified into inaction. I've been a bundle of excuses, half-efforts and hesitation. Worse yet? I find myself wholly without confidence in my ability to be successful at anything other than my previous career. And that is a horrible feeling.

For the past few months, I've been stumbling and bouncing back and forth between the world of academia, the world of laboratories and cubicles, the likely careers, the dream careers, and the do-it-myself road. I am without a map, without direction. I am familiar with all these places, yet none of them are home... I feel like a stranger in all of them. Like I don't belong... well, I belong just enough to fit it, but not enough to become one with that place. Like I could fake it and squeak along, roll with the punches, just get by... but never really settle in. I know that keeping my old career means a solid income, it means fulfilling the promise of the degrees I worked so hard for, it means doing something important with my days. But I also know leaving that behind would open the doors to new careers, art, design, photography- creative ventures that I have always longed for... but, in turn, that might mean little to no income, it might mean no one would buy my work or services, it might mean failure on a spectacular level. I have a degree in another field, but no matter what I do I can't get a job there... even though that is probably what would make me happiest. I could go back to school... but for what? To what end? Would that piece of paper entice my confidence into coming home? Somehow I doubt it. It feels like all I have in front of me are mediocre compromises and opportunities for failure.

I guess I just wish I either had it all to do over again or that I could get my mojo back. Since I know that former won't happen unless a time machine shows up on our stoop in the morning, I guess the best path is to focus on the things I can change. I just don't know how to find my direction, how to find what the best answer is to a problem that truly has no wrong or right. I could be a money-losing artist and Swiss would be happy if I was happy. But I don't know if never bringing money into the household, not being a success would crush my spirit (I suspect it would) and render me unhappy. I fear (read: know) I need those things to feel like I'm doing something with my life. Maybe that is the issue. Maybe my self-worth is too closely tied to conventional measures of success. Maybe the success is me loving what I do... and maybe me loving what I do will translate into my work and bring the conventional trappings of success along with them. Then again, that is probably a bunch of delusional swill.

But it is late, my mind is already too full of half-thoughts, outlandish ideas, and doomsday scenarios... and I'm keeping the dog awake. Perhaps morning will bring clarity, confidence and mojo back my way (can anyone recommend some sort of fairy/elf/sorceress who deals in these things?). Perhaps not. But maybe, just maybe, talking about this and figuring out what the real crux of the issue is will get me there too. In any event, thanks for listening.

What do you mean we get to choose?

Yes, the job applications are flying around our house like mad and it is raining resumes. Swiss is having A LOT more luck finding suitable jobs to apply for, but I'm doing my best to think outside the box... you wouldn't believe some of the jobs I am applying for! But the ancillary issue to all of this applying and submitting is choosing where to live. Goo- what a decision!

Yes- we get to choose. And not from a list of 4 Army-approved options. We are part HALLELUJAH! and part Holy Hell, we live in a HUGE country... how are we going to do this? It is great to have this much control over our lives, but it is also so very strange to think about moving someplace new, randomly (sorta) picking places that we think would be great to live in. Also, we are used to these military moves which are all pretty non-threatening: You know you have a built in support system, you know there will be a swell commissary, a job, a PX, and mostly, you are comforted by the tidy little bubble that living on Post affords you. It is a known entity, it is easy to adjust to, and really, how different can it be from the last Post you were stationed at?

But man, the real world is scary. There are towns that seem great but aren't all they are cracked up to be- and of course we won't know that until we accept jobs and move there. Fah. There are town that we might dismiss but are really pretty great but we will never know because they look funny on the maps in the atlas. There are towns/cities close to the ones we love, there are ones on either coast. There are big ones and tiny ones and Mormon ones and Hippie ones and Southern ones and Conservatives ones (Liberal ones too).

It all feels so arbitrary- looking at an atlas, Wikipedia, city/town web sites, flickr photos, whatever we can find to somehow determine wether or not it would be a good place to settle down. Without actually going there. Of course there will be the (hopefully) interviews wherein we would actually get to be Boots on the Ground in the cities on the list. But right now, as we shuffle through lists of cities with open jobs... it feels more like a bad game of drunken pin the tail on the donkey. And you know that never ends well.

Anyway, I just think it is so funny that way back when I was a single lady (yeah, you've got the song in your head now too- bonus points if you do the dance!) a prospect like this was exhillerating.... now, when two of us have to find jobs and we have a family (wow- when did that happen?) to think about, a dog who needs a big yard, a lifestyle that doesn't romanticize schmancy apartment loft living, insane commutes or ridiculous work hours... I find it intimidating and exhausting.

I know there is time yet, and going in for interviews will give us a chance to really get the vibe of the towns/cities. That will make all the difference in the world... but when a job posting with 18 different cities you think you would like makes you narrow it down to 4? Bring me some more wine!!!

Job applications are a mother.

Mothereffer if you ask me. Big, stinky, sweaty, hairy mothereffer. I cannot tell you how damned frustrating this process is. Actually, I am going to... I am going to tell you exactly what it is about this process that is driving me MAD.

And yes, this is my blog and I'll write about whatever I want! *hmmph*

Just teasing!!! Well, sort of... ;)

Anyway, here's the deal. I am frustrated that I have to have 2 (plus) totally dissimilar resumes going at once. And that each one needs tweaking with EVERY application. I hate trying to translate my super specific experience into something a non-laboratorian would understand. IT IS HARD. And it is exactly what the hubs is trying to deal with dumbing down translating his military experience into civilian terms. Funny. And totally un-fun.

I also hate that simply having a well formed resume isn't enough. I loathe the online forms that you invariably have to fill out- and of course each site is totally different which means you spend hours upon hours re-typing your education and experience and skills and man, it is a buzzkill. I mean, I'm 100% okay with the USA jobs format because you can use those buggers to apply for a plethora of federal jobs, so yay on that. HOWEVER, I just got done putting the final job-specific touches on my resume for a lab job in Illinois and went to the site's application page... Yay! Upload your resume! And what does it do? It's program sifts through your uploaded Word document and auto-fills the information into their wonky online format. And you know what? IT DOES IT WRONG. I spent an HOUR going back through a perfectly done resume fixing all the mistakes the program made. And there were a ton. Awesomesauce.

Lastly, I loathe that a simple application process invariably turns into a hot mess of paperwork, documentation and frustration. The job hunting and applying process is arduous enough that the road blocks some employers throw up are enough to straight up Sink Your Battleship. I can't tell you how many times I've gotten so frustrated I've had to walk away and just DO ANYTHING ELSE but applications. Should it really be that way? I suppose some will argue that it is a way to weed out the unserious folks, cut the riff-raff off the top and ensure that you are getting the ideal candidates. I get that- but do you really want to toe the line of making the process so ridiculous that even the most qualified folks throw their hands up in disgust.

I think, mostly, I am just frustrated by having to sell myself harder than a dime hooker on a Monday (that is a SuperFreakonomics reference BTW) fully knowing the odds of me landing a gig is lower than low. I know this is mostly the norm, but regardless, it isn't fun. Boo. Anyway, that is my rant. I'll suck it up and hit is up again in the morning. I've got 3 gub'ment jobs to apply for! Wish me luck folks!

Tinderbox.

Can I just say that this is probably the single worst week ever for me to have PMS? I mean, Christmas without Swiss, moving 1,200 miles from my family, 20 hours in a car with a dog, relocating to a new place where we don't technically have an address yet. I am an emotional tinderbox right now.

And I am so over it.

I want to be excited, not sad. I want to be giddy, not filled with trepidation and worry. I want to have my cake and eat it too... and that just ain't gonna happen. I am an emotional wreck waiting to happen. I feel like I am one sad commercial, one sappy song, one loaded moment away from a total emotional collapse. I fear the epic meltdown that will likely accompany driving away from my family, straight towards an empty house in a place where I know no one and Swiss isn't due to return for a month or maybe longer. This isn't me. This isn't how I roll. I am strong and am usually able to keep it together. This deployment has put me through the wringer and I didn't fall apart. So why do I feel like I'm about to do just that now?

Maybe this is all a part of the last month & change of a deployment. My tolerance for the bullshit that goes along with deployments is now nil. My patience for this to be over is non-existent. My ability to shoulder the emotional weight is maxed out. And worst of all, I don't want to hold this all in until Swiss gets home. I don't want to do a year's worth of emotional downloading in one fell swoop when he gets home. But I don't know how else to deal with everything that is maniacally swirling through my nugget and piling up in the corners of my mind. I don't want to sweep it under the rug, lock it away and not deal with it- I fear that would leave me jaded and bitter and a more emotionally detached person than I am comfortable being.

The other thing is this: I finally feel like I am giving up my life for the Army. All along I never really felt that way. More than anything I was just following Swiss wherever the Army sent us because that meant we got a life together again, it meant we could be 'normal'. I was always able to focus on that, on the good, the new, the exciting. Now that I am about to drive 1,200 miles away from my family, my friends, my normal and my life... I resent it. I think I am actually angry about it. I hate that I won't be able to go to Summerfest with Beth in July, that I won't get to go fishing and hunting on the Mississippi with my Dad this spring. I hate that I won't be able to see the ones I care about with just a short jaunt in the car. I hate that I don't get to try the new menu items at my favorite restaurant or go with Valerie to more wine tastings there. I hate that I won't get to go to lunch with my Mom and her best friend. I hate that I am going to miss out on so many parts of the life I built. Now, I understand the give and take here. I understand that while I am giving up all of that, I get to live a normal life under the same roof with my husband. That isn't small potatoes by any measure. But I guess I am just bitter that in order to have that, I have to give up everything else.

Do any of you have tips for how to deal with these parts of PCS-ing and reintegration? How to not be bitter about rearranging you whole life for the Army? How to not completely overwhelm your spouse but still manage to deal with the crap you've (both) been through? And one more thing: Is all this normal??? Am I off my rocker? I don't think I could handle being insane too...

Homesick.

So something interesting has happened this past week. We found out about housing on Tuesday (sorry for the lag in posting) and I got all sorts of giddy about it. Now? I find myself homesick for a place I've never been to. Correction: I've been to Fort X, I've lived in a house in the same housing community we are now assigned to and therefore I know exactly (more or less) what our home will look like. But I've never set foot in the house we will move into at the end of the month. Anyway, yes, I am homesick for a place that never has been home. Weird, I know.

I think maybe, more than anything, I am homesick for the idea of our life there. Swiss will be home. We will have our stuff. Luggage will only be used for trips, not makeshift dressers. I can get a routine going again. I can feel settled again. We can get on with being us. We can have something that is completely ours again.

I'm sure that right now that all sounds and seems way more romantic than it actually is (laundry! cleaning! cable bills!). But it will be ours. And at this point, I can't hardly remember what it was like to live with Swiss. All I can remember is me living alone in my house, going on about my routine, just trying to make the days go by faster. My memories of our "normal" life revolve around makeshift living arrangements and mentally gearing up for a deployment. We were only married 2 months before he deployed (join the crowd, I know). They are memories tinged with fear and worry... that was a time of stress and pressure and the looming uncertainty of the future ahead of us. Things were good with us but there was so much extra drama swirling around us and so much build up for the deployment that it colored everything we did.

I am sure that our new life together at Fort X will have its share of drama and worry and the like. But somehow I am certain that this new home, this new start, this new normal will be so wonderful if only because there won't be a deployment looming and we can just focus on us being us. That is a luxury we haven't had in a long, long time, if ever.

I am so grateful for my family for putting Fletcher and I up for this time. I am thankful that I have such a supportive family who is willing to rearrange everything (sort of) for Swiss and me. But also, I am tired of being an imposition. I am over making it work. I am ready to get back to being my normal independent self. And I am ready to start being a wife again.

I know it will come. It isn't that far away... but these last few months have left me feeling more anxious and disheveled than relieved and excited. Moving in to our new home and getting our life set up again? I think that will go a long way towards getting me excited and thrilled for Swiss coming home.

Military musings.

Ugh. So the surge. THE SURGE. It has already sparked debate in my household... I agree with the plan (this would be the "shitting" portion of my previously held position of "shit or get off the pot") generally speaking... even though I know as well as most of you what this surge means... and I hate the price that we will have to pay for success.

It means extended tours. It means increasing the OpTempo once again. It means tapping into a well that is already running dry. And worst of all, it means that my friends, my military family (and possibly Swiss and I), will have to pay the price... paid with fear, worry, trepidation, loneliness, holidays spent alone, a year without their loved ones, living with the omnipresent cloud of a loved one at war... every day. It will be paid with blood, sweat and tears. It will be paid with lives lost too soon. It will be paid with young widows and children who will never grow up with two parents.

I shudder to think about all of the other families getting ready for this surge. The ones who will leave yet this month... the ones who are getting the calls to ready for deployment. The ones who's hearts sunk when the final word broke today- knowing full well their families would be the ones bearing the burden. The ones who's lives will be put through the ringer (wringer?) in every imaginable way. The ones who will live this next year on the edge of their seats... afraid of the news, the phone ringing, the unfamiliar sedan in front of the house... the ones who will live in fear of the ringing of their doorbell.

But more than anything... watching the CBS News and hearing the reporter say that these troops would be there for "just one year"... my temper flared, my voice rose two octaves and I was using my outside voice inside. JUST ONE YEAR? Just. One. Year. *gasp* I've lived that year. I'm still living it. There is no "just" in one year. That is every holiday spent alone. That is 360-ish nights alone in your large bed meant for two. That is a full year of mowing the lawn, raking every leaf, shoveling every last snowfall alone. That is a full year of involuntary single parenthood. That is countless missed birthdays... missed first steps... missed first anniversaries... missed nights spent like any other normal couple across this country. There is no "just" in a year.

Inevitably, my rant turned into my least favorite (and admittedly touchiest) subject. "They signed up for this." And you know who said it? My parents. My blood began to boil. My rationality went out the window. I KNOW he chose this. But in no way, shape or form does that make this easy or fun or not horrible. And then I was told that "that isn't what I meant, it isn't personal". How could it not be personal? These are real people who have to enact this surge... families torn apart... IT IS, AT IT'S VERY ROOT, PERSONAL. It couldn't not be personal, if for no other reason, because this surge could lead to Swiss's retirement paperwork being denied. Which means he will be part of this surge. Another war. Another deployment. Another round of God Please Just Bring Him Home, every night, every day. How much more personal could it be?

I don't think I will ever get over how disconnected the American public is from this military lifestyle and all it entails. I understand that living it gives one a unique understanding an outsider could never match (Maude knows I didn't get it until I lived it). But I don't see how the general public can be so flippant about it. "Its their job." "Its about time." "They should send more" ... I want to shout that there aren't more to send.... they can't keep this up... this is taking its toll in ways you can't even begin to fathom!!! But I know, no matter how I say it, it will fall on deaf ears... because it isn't their spouse. It isn't their kid. It isn't their sibling. And it isn't their concern. It's just another talking point... another way to grade a President... another game to armchair quarterback. And it isn't personal.

So, to all of you who are or will be touched by this: May your loved ones come home safely, may this conflict end swiftly and without loss, and may your family, friends and whomever you pray to give you the comfort, support, love and reassurance you need. And know that I will be here for you.

Funkytown.

This part where I miss my husband so much it hurts and can't stand the thought of another day where my life isn't my own again... the part where I don't have a home, don't have freedom, don't have my (or our) normal... the part where I live by someone else's rules, where I feel like a teenager in my parents home, where I just want my life back... I hate it.

I want this to be over. I want to feel normal again. I want my life back. I want Swiss back.

Sorry for the lack of posting lately- I'm in a funk and rather than bore you all to death with my funkified drivel, I've been keeping quiet. Hope you are all doing well and Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.

Nerves.

nerve - /nɜrv/ [nurv] noun, verb, nerved, nerv-ing.
–noun
1. one or more bundles of fibers forming part of a system that conveys impulses of sensation, motion, etc., between the brain or spinal cord and other parts of the body.
2. a sinew or tendon: to strain every nerve.
3. firmness or courage under trying circumstances: an assignment requiring nerve.
4. boldness; audacity; impudence; impertinence: He had the nerve to say that?
5. nerves, nervousness: an attack of nerves.
6. a line, or one of a system of lines, extending across something.

Yup. That's me. Now that the panic, worry, angst, trepidation and general insanity of the home selling, packing, moving and upending of our lives has come to pass... the nerves have settled in. R&R is less than 2 weeks away. I am so excited to see him... but also? I am terrified. Like blind date terrified. What if it isn't the same? What if the chemistry is off? What if it just feels awkward? What if we don't fall back into step together? What if... ?

Now, please, please, please don't misconstrue this as anything other than what it is: nerves. Our relationship is on very solid ground. I am madly in love with Swiss. I think he is the sexiest thing on two legs. We communicate well with each other. In short, we are doing well, so I have no reason to think R&R won't go spectacularly.

I realize that this is probably normal. I also realize that my worries are likely baseless. But I can't get the idea that it will be awkward out of my head. I can't seem to figure out how it won't be weird. I mean, when you have a relationship with your husband strictly over the phone/e-mail for 8 months and then suddenly are back together, sharing the same physical space, being intimate, being a married couple, being the couple you remember being before... how does that work? Especially in just 2 weeks? (I suspect I know the answer to this... but feel free to share your experiences)

But oh, man. The nerves! I think it is just a product of wanting it to go well, of not seeing him in so long, and of wanting the assurance that we haven't changed... our relationship fundamentally hasn't changed. I understand (boy do I ever) that deployments change people, that experiencing this, living through it, coping with it, making do changes you. How could it not? But I can't help but worry that all of these little changes will add up to something that isn't, at it's root, us.

So feel free to tell me I'm nuts. Or not. Feel free to share your experiences with R&R/reintegration (which is also fast approaching). And tell me how you dealt with the nerves and angst. And then tell me to ease up, stop being my own worst enemy, and let myself get excited - nee - giddy about seeing my husband for the first time in over 8 months.

WTF? (aka: BANKS ARE THE DEVIL)

In a turn of events that is making me question the status of my cosmic Karma, our appraisal has failed. (Seriously- What DID I do???) And by failed, I mean the dude sent by the (EVIL) bank appraised our house at the same value it was appraised at 2 years ago (which is about $10,000 less than the sale price). Even though we remodeled the kitchen and everyone & their mom thinks the price is right. So... the accepted offer? In jeopardy. The calmness and serenity of being done with the house drama? Poof. GONE. The anxiety, worry and stress of getting this fixed, sold and done with once and for all? Back with a vengeance.

Our realtor claims it isn't time to panic yet (HA! She didn't just submit her PPSO forms requesting to be moved out of said house on the 1st of October and signed papers formally resigning her position at work on the 16th of October.). She found the comps we based our price on, she submitted paperwork detailing the work that has been done on the house and apparently the buyer's agent is working to fix this too. All hands are on deck to try and right this ship. But honestly, my outlook is grim. (Oh, and let's NOT get into the fact that this whole mess is happening solely because the EVIL banks offered sub-prime lending which caused this housing crash and now they are screwing ME and everyone else over by under-appraising houses in order to cover their own asses. Color me LIVID.)

I do not know what to do now. Save cry, knit, drink, cry some more, and pray to anyone upstairs who is listening for a teensey bit of help on this one. I know Swiss, bless his heart, will just say to do whatever we have to do in order to get the sale done with... even if it means loosing more money. I can honestly say that at this point, I'm in total agreement with him. Anyway, if you have some spare time, throw out some good financial juju my way. And if you know what I did to mess up my Karma so spectacularly, drop me a line because I'd really like to know...

PS- As an added bonus, the PPSO office just called to inform me that our move will cost us $1,000 out of pocket because he was single and living in another state when he got his PCS orders, even though he didn't report to his new duty station until after we got married. Our current home is further away from our new duty station than his last duty station was so yep, we get to absorb that cost. Wheeee! LOOK AT ME! I AM MADE OF MONEY!!!

Mrs. Doubtmired.

Okay, that title is waaaaaaay more dramatic than I feel. So don't panic. Lord knows I'm not. It was just sort of catchy.

Aaaaanyway... I'm feeling relieved and relatively relaxed about this whole thing now. Only when I went to sign the papers today, my agent said something like this: "Gosh, it is just such a shame you had to pay out of pocket for this. That other guy who made the very first offer... well, I don't know." Wha??? Stop freaking me out! I was cool with this! Now you go all trailing off about the other guy who might have made a decent offer maybe? Party Foul.

To be fair, she did say that what we sold it for wasn't bad for the market we are in. I think maybe she just hoped we could have gotten more (ME TOO LADY!). To which I say, then why didn't you tell me to hold out for more? This is your business! So now I am all conflicted and slightly worried and now the seed of doubt that wasn't in my head has been planted and is already sprouting. Again, Party Foul. I hate this part where you weren't concerned, but now you are because someone said something off the cuff without regard to the fact that you just singed a legally binding contract. But it is all good. I'm doing the duck thing, you know, where you drink a lot of wine and let it all roll off your back.

I'm chalking that $1,000 up to a) not having to keep the house pristine anymore, b) the giant sigh of relief seeing as how this is "done", c) the satisfaction of checking one HUGE thing off the list and being able to move on to the other things (PPSO!!!) and d) not having to think about anything pertaining to real estate for at least a few years. And Swiss is less worried/stressed for me, and that is a good thing too. Do I sound like I am justifying the heck out of this to myself? Probably. (Shh! It's because I AM!) But bottom line is, it is done. We can move on and start to focus on all the good stuff waiting for us.

And the rest of you? Don't any of you DARE plant any more seeds of doubt. There isn't enough wine in the county to fix it if you do.

The butterfly effect.

I find it funny how quickly one can go from triumphant I-can-do-anythingness to Oh Shitness in a matter of mere hours. Do I still feel like I can tell the Deployment to "Suck it?" Sure. But the PCS? Well, now that is another matter. Right now, the PCS is telling me to suck it. Hard.

I think the root of the issue is this: The butterfly effect. I am completely overwhelmed by this thing. Not because I can't manage a move. Nor because I can't handle selling the house. And it isn't because I am scared of relocating. It is because every last one of these things is so inextricably intertwined that if one goes awry, I can't help but feel like everything, this whole life of ours, will go off the rails and resemble something like this. Only not in Legos.

I can't get past the ridiculous scenario I have lodged in my head, the one where if this house doesn't sell, our only options are to either double pay housing and dwindle our savings to nil or to sell it at a loss. Either way, in my mind it involves money that isn't mine (still getting used to that- there are guilt and all sorts of weird issues I have using his money for my stuff) going towards getting rid of an issue that is wholly mine. And using the money that isn't mine just depletes the stash that we so dearly will need post retirement so that we can do all of the things that we have always planned on. If that money isn't there, then we don't get to buy a house with a bit of land, we don't get to take vacations, we don't get to, you know, DO stuff. We have to be frugal and thrifty.

Not that there is anything wrong with renting or stay-cations (whatever those are) or being frugal in general. But you know, I worked hard for this money (So hard for it honey... do do doo do), so has he and Swiss has earned this retirement. We are in our 30's for sobbing out loud, we aren't kids anymore. We shouldn't have to rent. We shouldn't not be able to take vacations. We should be able to go out for dinners and not worry about the bill, we should be able to live a worry-free life financially speaking. And if I blow this house thing... if I can't sell it. I will feel like a failure. I will feel like I made this mess. I will feel like it is my fault he won't be able to do what he wanted to with his post-Army life.

Long story short? Unsold house = Tucker SUCKS.

To be fair, Swiss thinks I am insane for thinking like this. Mad Hatter insane. And he is probably right (as usual). He figures as long as there is $1.00 in the bank upon his return home, he'll be in better shape than he was the last time (file this one under sad, but true). And while, yes, technically that is correct, I cannot deal with the fact that I might fail at this. Because suddenly, my failures aren't just mine. They are ours. And he is 7,500 miles away and can't do a damned thing to bail me out on this one. Please, please, pleasepleaseplease let us sell this house. Please let me not fuck this up. Please?