This is the rhythm my heart is beating every second of every day.

To say I’m devastated would be an understatement.

Life just fucking sucks.

I’m scared shitless for what this means.

Hi everyone! I’m 7 years old apparently, and I love it!

I’ve been keeping a secret. A deep dark secret. A secret that I did not let a single person in on. Not a one. A secret that has torn me up inside and made me feel worse and worse by the day. It was literally making me sick at times. It was a secret that I kept pushing further and further down every time it attempted to claw its way back up into my conscious thought. A secret that I couldn’t let myself think about for fear that I if I did think about it, I would become so overcome with it that I just didn’t trust myself with what I would do.

I lost my engagement ring.

I lost the most expensive thing I own (next to my car. I don’t actually know how much the ring cost, but I know it was a few pretty pennies). But far, far more than that, I lost the symbol of everything that Pte Goof and I have been through.  I lost the thing that Pte Goof spent all his money on to show me how much he loved me no matter what.

Pte Goof and I got together in August of ’07. It was just such an easy, fun thing that I figured would just be until I went back to school a little over a month later.  I had never had a fling before, in fact, I had always been quite against them, but the 8 months I had spent at University had done much to open my eyes to a new way to look at the world. And although I was still pretty uptight compared to the rest of the world, I figured I could hang out with this hot guy with the cute silver Chevy Cavalier (don’t tell him I called it cute) who seemed to actually have an interest in me, fool around a bit, then head back off to University and all the fun guys and booze there.

In a matter of weeks though, I was head over heels in love with this guy, and found myself giving him my v-card, when it was just supposed to be a little fooling around before heading back to school.

Let’s zip along to the spring of ’08. I had decided not to go back to school for various personal reasons (and not because I had fallen in love with a super hot guy back home, don’t listen to anyone who says it was because of him!). But I was working my ass off at a job I loved, and screwing my man every chance I got. I was having so much fun really, even if I was running myself into the ground working 60 hours a week at a very physical job, staying out all hours with my very physical man.

In May he went to coffee with Miss Stiles. He and she wanted to get to know each other better,  since she was one of my bffs and he was being heralded as “possibly ’the one’”. In fact, I already knew he was the one, I just wasn’t telling anyone yet, because I didn’t want to hear a chorus of “it’s too soon” and “you’re too young”. I found out much later that Miss Stile and he had discussed his intentions. They had talked about a future wedding and engagement ring (Pte Goof told her that my bridesmaids would have to wear purple, my favourite colour). My Dear Miss Stiles convinced him that I needed a flat ring, because I was so clumsy that anything that had a big rock  I would catch and injure myself. This is probably the best thing that Miss Stiles has ever done for me, because, I hate to admit it to many women who have a huge ring, but I don’t like big stones. I just don’t like the way they look. But Pte Goof has expensive tastes, and loves to show them off. Had they not talked about this he probably would have bought me the biggest stone he could afford!

He bought me a beautiful ring. One with three diamonds that were flush with the band. At the end of June he was due to leave for boot camp and he really wanted to be more committed to me before he left. This ring used up most of his savings (after he totaled his dear cavalier and paid it off) , and it was a promise ring. A promise to love me forever and a promise for our future life together. It summed up our somewhat new, but totally devoted relationship, and all that he hoped for it. He planned to give it to me on my birthday in early June.

Then.

Then. Before my birthday, before my lovely ring was given to me, I took that test. The one that completely changed everything about our relationship. So when he gave me the ring, in the parking lot of my old elementary school in my crappy Plymouth Sundance, it was still a promise ring, but it meant so much more. And 3 weeks later,  when he proposed, just days before he left for boot camp, and could not possibly afford another ring so fine, I got a trinket, one that means so much to me personally, but that doesn’t get worn like my promise ring.

Because of this my promise ring has become so much more. It is both a promise ring and an engagement ring all at once. It is absolutely beautiful, and I love how right Goof got it when he picked it out. The only problem is that we got it sized shortly after he gave it to me, I was pregnant and evidently retaining water. It has been way too big for most of the time I’ve owned it, and so I don’t often wear it for fear of loosing it. Were it to slip off when I was out sometime I could never forgive myself.

And yet it happened. I wasn’t really sure when, just one day the thought occurred to me that I had no idea when the last time I wore it was or when the last time I wore it was. I checked all the places I usually keep it (A grand total of 3 possible places in our apartment). No luck. I was certain  it had to be somewhere. Guys, I felt like shit. Then suddenly we were moving, and I knew, that I would never see my beloved ring again.

And like a coward I couldn’t bring myself to tell Goof. It represented his hard (VERY HARD) earned cash. It represented everything we were together. And I lost it. I know it was cowardly and dishonest of me to keep it from him, but I just couldn’t bring myself to spill the beans.

Time wore on in our new place and I found myself becoming physically ill when I thought about my long-lost ring. How could I possibly be so careless?

But today. Oh today! I decided to use a purse to run to the store that I had not used in AGES. I’m sure you can see where this is going. I’m notorious for not cleaning purses out when I’m done with them. I was digging around in all the shit I had left in this purse and deep down in the inside zippered pocket I FOUND IT! MY DEAR LONG LOST RING! I feel like a GINORMOUS weight had been lifted off my shoulders! I can’t belive what I thought was still back in Ontario, probably in some pawn shop by some ne’er-do-well who found it, was in my hands where it belonged!

DEAR INTERNET! I HAVE FOUND MY RING!

and I couldn’t be happier!

Now. Pte Goof on the other hand. Well, no son of his is going to wear some leash like a tied up animal. I know that quite a few people feel this way. No amount of “But I want to be able to enjoy myself” or “You’re away so often [like all last year until Sept], it gets so tiring to always be the one chasing him” or “It’s not like I’d use it all the time, or that I’d ignore him when I do” will sway him.

But, there is one huge but here. But, he has absolutely no problem making. our. son. dance. for. treats. just. like. his. mom’s. stupid. dog. And I mean just the same. He uses things like grapes and holds them over Squirt’s head and tells him to dance for it. Now how on Earth can he possibly say I’m the one who wants to treat our son like an animal? Not only that, but when I pointed out how that was treating him like an animal, which is exactly why I was forbidden to get a leash, he refused to stop doing it.

Common, someone’s got to agree with me that if Goof can do something so degrading to the poor boy I should be able to buy a little sanity with a leash…?

For various reasons I’ve shied away from the subject.

But it’s been incredibly hard on me. Right now I’m not working and I’m not on base and it’s been insanely hard to meet anyone. I’ve never had to try to make friends before. When you move as a kid (which I never did) or start at a new school (which I only did a couple of times) although it is hard to be the new person, you do get out and see people every single day. And although it can be very difficult to make friends at times (I was not well liked at my elementary school, and still carry deep scars from my time there), you at least interact and eventually, usually, you can find somebody with whom you have a little common ground. I’ve always managed to find at least one person to hang out and giggle with.

But here. Here is so different. Here I don’t know anyone, and my ways to meet them are limited. I only have a car about half the time (less lately). There’s no small town atmosphere that seems to lend itself to more instant camaraderie.  Squirt and I have been attending a toddler/baby group thing at the library, but that can only be done when we have the car, and even though we’ve been a few times, my attempts at conversation with the other moms never really get anywhere. I know I’m socially awkward, but really? No friends for me in a group of about 25 moms every week? Is it because I’m young? Do they judge me for having a baby “too young?” I don’t know.

I know all this is really a bunch of excuses for myself. If I really want some friends I should go out and get them!! But there’s more to it.

I’ve just been so sad since coming here. I’m mad at the army for plucking me from everything I know. I’m upset about the feeling of a lack of control over my life. Truth be told, sometimes I’m a little angry with Goof for being in the army. I’m not proud of it, but it’s the truth. I’m struggling with what feels like a million different things and sometimes it feels like they’re going drown me.

And all of this just makes it so much harder. Harder to get dressed. Harder to shower every day. Harder to get out of the house. Harder to take part in things. Harder to talk to people. Harder to be in groups. Harder to not panic when I say something stupid or awkward (which I always manage to do lol).

So, I have no friends.

Wow, this post was going to be about a walk I took with Squirt this morning, but holy cow, this is just where my fingers took me. I’m glad. I needed to get it out. I needed to complain. Thanks guys for being there to listen to me whine.