Unchecked Emotions

I was only 20 years old when I got married. I was young and thought, even though we didn’t have a solid plan for the future, we had time. Things would just find a way of working out. However, as with life, and especially life in the military, things didn’t happen like we thought they would.

I always wanted to run my own craft store and enjoy my days painting and sewing. But when I said “I do” to my husband, I gave up the possibility to have my own brick-and-mortar business. I decided to follow his career wherever it took us, supporting him along the way with all the twists and turns, and more times than not, abrupt U-turns and walls.

As the years passed, my career and passions became a distant thought; superseded by motherhood, housework, and general life. I never gave it much thought—this was life, and I needed to love and cherish the good along with the bad.

I rarely grew angry or resentful toward my husband for how my life turned out. He didn’t force me to marry him. He charmed my socks off, and I loved him. I love him more now. It was my decision to follow him and accept this lifestyle as my new normal.

However, recently I was slapped in the face with more resentment and anger than I knew how to process and handle.

My husband was tasked with a job no one wants—he was assigned to be the casualty assistance officer for a service member whose child passed away far too early in life. Sean, my husband, spent weeks in the hospital with them while their child fought for her life. Sadly, she passed away just a day before turning a month old. He then proceeded to travel back to the states with them to make sure everything was properly handled. He was given this role because he’s compassionate, hardworking, and can effectively get the job done as well as be a level-headed support for the family.

He was given this job because of all the reasons I love and treasure him.

But I didn’t always feel that throughout this time.

I selfishly felt neglected—alone with four kids, two whom had been sick during this time, another child who was struggling terribly with night terrors (which meant neither of us were getting much sleep), our family dog was diagnosed with brain tumors and ultimately needed to be put down, and to top it all off, car trouble.

I felt so beyond frustrated and alone, and the resentment began creeping through as I cracked. 

Sean wasn’t at the hospital to support me while I gave birth to the triplets on my own.

He wasn’t here trying to figure out vet appointments with a clan of small children, doctor appointments, treatments for illnesses, to share nightly duty while I did everything I could to attempt to calm my inconsolable son or to help pick up the pieces as life seemingly fell apart.

Suddenly I felt the pit inside grow, and I found myself mad for things that had happened years before that I thought I’d forgiven or resolved to be at peace with.

But everything wasn’t okay.

I’m a 31-year-old stay-at-home-mother with a business management degree that I’m not using. I run errands with triplet infants, shuttle everyone around, and make sure life as we know it flows regularly.

We decided to do this life together, but why do I always feel alone?

None of what was happening was Sean’s fault, practical and logical Renee knew that. But my feelings and emotions were real, and I found myself pulling away from him and becoming cold. It was time for me to be honest with myself for the sake of my sanity and our relationship.

My career never happened or developed because I chose another path—motherhood. I’m not saying you can’t have both, but once Aaron was born, my life took on new meaning. Any desire to figure out my career was placed on the back burner, not because of Sean, but because my focus shifted.

As the years came and went, more children came. My plans to further my education and really “start” my career took a back seat. Again, not because of my husband, but because I decided it was the right course of action.

Once I was brutally honest with myself, and owned and acknowledged the feelings I was trying so hard to either suppress or dismiss because I did not have time to deal with them, I realized it’s natural to feel the emotions I did.

The feeling of being selfish and wanting my husband home, even though I knew what he was doing for the other family, were minuscule compared to the loss of their child.

The sadness and disappointment of feeling like I never achieved “enough” paired itself with the anger of seemingly doing life on my own.

Only after that moment of self-reflection was I able to talk to Sean without my emotions running the conversation.

I told him I felt overwhelmed and like I wasn’t enough.

I told him how I was jealous of him being at the hospital to support another family when I had to be alone in a foreign country for the birth of our triplets.

I feared how he would look at me and judge my feelings as childish.

However, Sean just held me as I crumbled into a ball, completely vulnerable. 

He reminded me of all the things I’ve accomplished and how proud he is to have me by his side and call me his wife. He apologized, again, for being away so much and hated how I’d been putting distance between us. Together, we worked through each step, openly discussing emotions and internal conflicts so I no longer felt guilty for feeling this way. The more we talked, the more I was honest with him and myself, the more I grew and understood my resentment.

This lifestyle is hard and more is required of us than just supporting our other half throughout this life. We’ve been married for more than a decade, and through him and with him, I’ve found my path and my passions.

Know in your heart that it’s natural to feel neglected, angry, and even resentful at times. 

The emotions aren’t bad in their own, but our reactions to them can be devastating. There’s also the chance they can bring you closer together. Sean and I are now more in-tune with each other’s feelings, and we’re able to pick up on certain cues when under stress. By talking and working through the tough stuff, we know how to react to support one another.

Own your feelings; don’t let them own you.