Monday, October 22, 2012

The One Word to Ruin It All

After a phone conversation, Jobi told me, "I talked to [whoever was on the phone] about Special Forces."

Special Forces. The green beret. The best of the best the military has to offer. It's been Jobi's dream to be in this "elite" group since he first made the connection between it and Rambo. And this year, I've decided to support him in this "dream." Allowing him to buy books, and watch documentaries, and call offices, and work out, and schedule and budget and all that jazz. And through all this "support," I've never told him how I feel about the idea.

"What did the guy say about it," I inquired.

"He said," Jobi replied, "that if I join SF, I might as well sign a divorce."

Oh boy.

"And what do you think about that," I asked him.

He shrugged, "He has a point."

He has a point? Just a point? I said nothing.

Jobi saw my silence. "You have a thought?" His voice was sharp.

I took a deep breath. "Yeah, I have a thought. I think he's right."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think he's right? Like that we should get divorced?!"

"Well," I hesitated. He's not going to like this. "We aren't strong enough for SF."

"Not strong enough?" he retorted.

I continued. "I'm not strong enough for you to be in SF. You would leave at an unknown time, for an unknown period of time, to an unknown location, doing unknown things. All that unknown would be... too much. I can't handle not knowing. At least when you could come home."

Jobi began, but then exhaled and stayed silent.

I wasn't finished. "The only times you have left us was for training. You've never been on any assignment. And yet when you come home you have a hard time being back. You can't stand to be around the kids, around home, around me. Imagine what that would be like if you actually got deployed. To a combat zone. It would be a thousand times harder! We may not make it through that. Special Forces... We are just not strong enough."

Jobi said nothing, only continued playing. But his shoulders slowly slumped. And his eyes drooped. And his mouth made a slight hint of a frown. Sadness crept into his entire form, and I felt bad. I am his wife. I'm supposed to love him and support him, through thick and thin, for better or for worse. And I'm never supposed to say the "D" word! How could I do that to him? Put him through a terrible scenario of the kids never loving their father again, or our marriage shattered to dust. I shouldn't have been the one to give him those thoughts, those images. What a horrible wife I am to tell him our marriage and our family isn't strong. I wanted to take everything I said back, give him a big hug and reassure him that his wife and kids are still here, that we love him, that he is the awesomest, most bestest husband and dad ever...

But something about his sadness was off.

"Are you..." I looked at him more closely, "bummed?"

He sighed and frowned. "Maybe. I don't wanna talk about it."

No, he wasn't sad about the thought of losing his family... he was sad that his wife told him he can't be Rambo.

 Needless to say, he was bummed out for the rest of the day. And my guilt for being a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad wife?
I'm over it.

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