If I were a different type of woman (genteel, wealthy,
childless), living in a different place (the South) and time (decades past), I
would collapse on my fainting chair, fan myself with something lacy, with the
back of my hand dramatically pressed against my forehead in a forlorn
manner. Those who tend me would
summon the doctor, who’d arrive tout de
suite, carrying his leather satchel. He’d check my pulse, look in my
bloodshot eyes, and know my situation was precarious.
The doctor’s interview with me would reveal the telltale
symptoms: expiration-date-induced palpitations (heretofore known as EDIPs) and
grocery store melancholia (GSM). Also present would be the cast of supporting
symptoms: irritation, jaw clenching, sleeplessness, excessive use of foul
language, and feelings of hopelessness, despair and anger. By themselves, the lesser symptoms could
be anything but, when presented with the very unique EDIPs and GSM, they can
only mean one thing: a diagnosis of Imminent Deployment of a Loved One Syndrome.
For those who have had the good fortune of never having been
afflicted with IDLOS, please take a brief moment and be grateful for the people
who do what they do so that others don’t have to. And if a reader is curious as
to what, exactly, EDIPs and GSM are...EDIPs frequently goes hand-in-hand with GSM,
which causes the unpleasant situation of doing more crying in grocery stores
than in any other location. Technically speaking, expiration-date-induced
palpitations is the chest tightening that occurs when you realize the coffee
creamer/oil in your car/library book will be in your immediate life for a
longer duration than your spouse. Grocery store melancholia comes in many forms, one being EDIPs, others
of which include: the mere sight of boxes of cake mix and holiday candy
displays, which remind you of all the birthdays and holidays that will be
missed during a deployment; the sight of new products and favorite products rendering
you heart-broken by the thought of not being able to share that product with the
person who’s deployed; running into someone who asks how everything is going while
you suppress the urge to shout, “NO ONE SHOULD HAVE TO LIVE LIKE THIS….IT’S
JUST NOT NATURAL! MY KIDS NEED THEIR DAD!!” While these are some of the most
common triggers of GSM, the triggers come in many forms, and I never cease to
be amazed at the many ways the grocery store can reduce me to tears.
If I were that other woman, the doctor would make sure that
people were quiet around me, doing nothing to increase my fragility, and I’d
get to stay in bed for as long as necessary until my constitution strengthened.
I’d ask for something to “settle my nerves,” and the doctor would take pity on
me and prescribe a heavy sedative for several months, and he’d tell me it would
be all right and that he’d wake me when it was all over. I’d reply, “Thank you
kaaahhhhndly, sir,” and I’d wake up months later, and it would, indeed, be
over.
I wish I were that woman. Her indifferent sedation would be
a much-preferred experience to the one we will have in our house…the one with
little kids crying because they miss their dad and it’s been so long since
they’ve seen him, the one with the what-if worries, the one with heartache and
exhaustion and stress and crappy, canned dinners and homework to do and grass
to be mowed and snow to be shoveled and sports schedules to be juggled and
Christmas trees to be fought with and holidays to be conquered and a sense of
“normalcy” to be created/maintained and a life to be lead with no rest in
sight. Sedation…if only.
Of course, all that stuff I just listed also sounds like my “normal,”
every day life. Five days out of seven, I largely manage as a single parent. I
was independent before I married Mike
and these many years of being an Army spouse has made excellent use of that as
Mike has worked crazy hours in demanding jobs and gone on long deployments and
shorter trips to stateside locations. If there’s a bright side (and don’t
misunderstand me, I’m not saying there
is a bright side), it’s that I’ve
done this before. I’ve managed to keep the kids and myself alive and relatively
safe and sane for two deployments, which (I think) means that the odds are in my
favor that we will probably make it again. I hope. I think. Just maybe.
Another symptom of IDLOS is constant doubt. About
everything, but specifically about one’s ability to manage as a single parent
while still maintaining some version of sanity at the end of the day. Maybe
this is just a symptom of parenting, or living, but it is exaggerated during a
deployment, as I will question absolutely everything, wondering if I am being a
good-enough parent, a supportive-enough wife, if I am properly maintaining
myself, as I wonder what’s the point of all of this (pontificating war and
peace and politics, etc) and whether our kids and family will come out of all
this damaged at the end.
For the record, none of these acronyms can be found in the
latest DSM book (although they probably should be). Though every word I’ve
written is true, I’m fairly sure EDIPs and GSM, as well as IDLOS, are only
creations in my own mind. I am not actually qualified to diagnose anything, despite
all the time I spend on the internet diagnosing various ailments (if you think
you have lupus, check with me…I’m a resident expert). Despite my lack of accredited expertise, I can confirm that there is a cure for
IDLOS, as well as most other afflictions: time. Usually lots and lots of time.
This, too, shall pass…with enough time. This is where that sedation would come
in handy.
