Coping

I have a confession to make: I'm an avoider. When something makes me uncomfortable, or anxious, or upset, I have a really bad habit of avoiding it until it either a) goes away or b) I'm ready to deal with it.

(Edit: let me come back and tell you that it took me over 3 hours to write this blog post. It's a problem I have, y'all!)

And while it's not a good reason, that is my excuse for neglecting my poor blog.

Last month, the Sheriff's Office that C works for had the kind of tragedy that few experience, no one expects, and everyone fears. Deputy 2330, a coworker and a friend of C, went to serve a warrant and was shot and killed in the line of duty.

I could go on and on about how it's not fair, how the guy who did the shooting is a coward and how it was a worthless, senseless act of violence.I could tell you that he was a brave officer who loved his job. I could cry about how what a wonderful husband he was, how he has two kids under the age of three and a wife that was a classmate of mine growing up, and how all this hit just a little too close to home for me. I could fill an entire notebook about this, but I won't. Deputy 2330 had an incredibly touching memorial service and funeral. He has been mourned, both publicly and privately, by C and I, the Sheriff's Office, and our whole community.

But, his story is not my story to tell.

Instead, I will tell you that since that awful day, I hug C a little tighter. I kiss him one extra time every day. I make sure to tell him that I love him every time I talk to him. It doesn't irritate me quite as much anymore when he wakes me up a 1AM to kiss me goodnight. I pray harder, longer, and more often. My faith was shaken but has since been strengthened, and I have learned to trust in C's training, his fellow Deputies and the grace of the Good Lord to bring him back to me. And let me tell you, I have learned that there is no sweeter sound in the whole world than the riiiiiiiip of the sweaty Velcro fastenings of a Kevlar vest being undone at the end of a shift -- that sounds means that he's made it home once more.

Tomorrow isn't guaranteed. Make sure you kiss your loved ones (cop or not) today.

Time

There's a proverb that says "time and tide wait for no man."

... yeah, try telling that to a cop!

Apparently, in a cop's life, the only 'time' that matters is being on time for your shift. Beyond that, you are completely at the mercy of your job. Ending your shift on time is a laughable thought, and as a wife it's hard to not let your thoughts wander to the "dead or just delayed?" debate with yourself. And more often than not, "I'll call you back in 5 minutes, I swear" means you will be staring at the phone for hours.

The first few times made me a nervous wreck, now I know to get in a quick "kloveyoubye" and just pick my book back up, or find a show I love, or get obsessed with a new food blog (my guilty pleasure) and try not to jump too high when the phone finally does ring. Basically, all you can do is pass the time as best as you can, and stay as sane as you can in the process.

For example: the other day, I agreed to meet C and his Field Training Officer for a quick sushi dinner. I hurried home from the gym, threw some clothes on and headed up to the restaurant. It wasn't two minutes after I was sat at a table that my phone rang. "We got a call, be there as soon as we can!" C shouted over his squawking radio. So, I did the best I could with the extra 15 minutes I had to wait: I ordered an extra glass of Pinot Grigio!


What can I say? I do the best I can.

Changes

C and I watched this movie last night (obviously, it was my turn with the Netflix queue). The movie was pretty good, actually, and was focused more on a returning soldier's struggle with PTSD than it was with a sordid love triangle. Although I was pretty bummed at the lack of romantic drama (what can I say? I'm a sucker for sordid love triangles. I blame it on the fact that my love life is finally so blessedly drama-free!), the movie definitely got me thinking. Which inevitably led me to worrying.

I'm a predictible creature. You'll learn that.

As a cop's wife, it's a given that worrying comes with the territory. You worry about the obvious things: gun-toting bad guys, traffic stops gone wrong, drug busts gone bad, and any of the million other dangers that go hand-in-hand with wearing a badge. Of course I worry about those things, and I'd be crazy if I didn't. I've learned quickly though, in the short time that C has been active in law enforcement, that the major calamadies are few and far between. Most of his days go by relatively routinely, and we all lean on the fact that there's nothing we can do about it when his time is up and his card is pulled.

No, I try not worry about the big things. I try to lean on the fact that the Lord will call C home when it's his time and not a minute sooner. There's something smaller, less tragic that I worry about though. One of C's cop buddies mentioned it too me right before C started in Acadamy and I haven't been able to shake it since.

Change.

I adore my husband. His laid-back attitude towards life balances out my high-strung nature as if we were made specifically to complement each other. And while I understand that change is inevitable, that it's part of growing old together and yadda yadda, I still worry that his career will change him beyond the normal growing pains that every marriage endures. As a cop, he sees all sorts of unimaginable things: death and violence, people caught in the most hopeless of situations, endless sadness. Car crashes, suicides, drug dealers, these things are the dark underbelly of society that only select few are privy to. Things that, as a Kindergarten teacher, would send me straight to the fetal position for days. Yet somehow, C is still able to come home and laugh at me dancing in the kitchen. And play with our dogs. And generally enjoy the incredible life we've built together.

I guess he's just a stonger person than I am. And I shoot up a thankful prayer every single day for that.

The Beginning

See that handsome back up there? That’s C, my hunky cop hubby, at his Academy graduation. “Academy” is the affectionate nickname that wannabe cops give to the program that will springboard them into their desired career. It was 10 weeks of mental stress, physical exhaustion, and being pushed to the absolute edge of everything they thought they were possible of. C had late nights of studying, early mornings preparing, and hours upon hours of time spent at the training facility.

Here’s the thing about Academy: they all knew, going into it, that it would be tough. There were rumors whispered, stories shared, urban legends of epic proportions. He was ready. What no one talked about, though, is how tough it would be on me, on us—the families behind the cops. While he was up late studying, I was up late perfecting the art of the military crease. While he was up early getting ready, I was up early packing his lunch. And those hours upon hours of time he spent at the training facility? Those were hours upon hours I spent cuddled up with my dogs, or mooching off some wonderful friends who, despite it all, were able to keep me fed and sane.

And believe me, no wife wants to help her husband memorize a motto that includes the line “It’s my goal to make it home every night, but I acknowledge the fact that I may not.”


... Um, was I supposed to have a say in that?

Graduation night, though, watching C walk across that stage and shake hands with the Sheriff, made every second of those 10 weeks worth it. There’s something incredibly profound about watching someone you love reach a goal, and it’s even better knowing that you played a part in that.

And the best part? I get to watch it continue to unfold for the rest of my life :)