I was contemplating today about the need to update my blog. And I was going to write about how the restructuring of our cubicle farms at work will result in me losing my "bigger than others" cubicle to a more modest shoebox, at best. But that seems all too trivial now.
Yesterday afternoon, after deciding to cut my workday a little short in order to steal some mommy time.. I was introduced to one of the worst feelings I think a human could ever be subjected to.... the feeling of abandonment....
The worst fucking feeling ever.
"I can't be married to a deserter", he said.
I have no notion of being a hero, nor am I fed with intense patriotism. The only thing I miss was the comraderie. But at this point in my military career, (for what it's worth) I feel that I have done my time. Write me up another counseling statement and deluge me threats of involuntary separation.
But I am NOT leaving my child.
Yesterday afternoon, after deciding to cut my workday a little short in order to steal some mommy time.. I was introduced to one of the worst feelings I think a human could ever be subjected to.... the feeling of abandonment....
The worst fucking feeling ever.
"I can't be married to a deserter", he said.
I have no notion of being a hero, nor am I fed with intense patriotism. The only thing I miss was the comraderie. But at this point in my military career, (for what it's worth) I feel that I have done my time. Write me up another counseling statement and deluge me threats of involuntary separation.
But I am NOT leaving my child.
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