When the distance first began I was on some sort of bizarre high. I was somehow excited about this new challenge for us...excited about how much stronger we would be after it, I suppose. After our first phone call I was beaming after all of the wonderful things he'd said to me about how thankful he is for my support and how his feelings grow stronger for me after each passing day. And with those words something wild was building up in my stomach, moving up into my chest and pounding incessantly wanting to break free. I was floating with blissful and surprising delight over how well things were going from miles and miles away.
But I failed to recognize the early fog of naivety and last night I got a taste of what this summer is really going to be like. He made it very clear to me that we would only be able to speak on the phone three times a day. I knew that. I was well aware. I guess what I wasn't aware of was how difficult this factor would really make things. I go all day without hearing from him, which is fine. I mean, it isn't fine. Obviously. But I know that he's working all day so he couldn't talk to me if he wanted to. Then I get a text from him at 10:45 asking how my day went, we send a couple texts back and forth, and then he tells me that he has to be in bed by 11:00 because his day starts at 6:00 am. I totally understand that, and I want to be supportive. The frustration comes from waiting to hear from him all day and then having to be satisfied with a couple texts back and forth until the next night, when I'll be rewarded for my patience with just the same. With the exception of the three phone calls a week, of course.
I just need some distractions. And someone to talk to. Someone to talk to would be really really great.
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