A few hours ago, I found out that someone who was in my husband's army company (and who my husband was friendly with) was killed in combat and that my husband was right fucking there when it happened. I don't want to write specific details (such as their location and names) but I do want to try and write down how I am feeling.

I can't believe this happened, it doesn't feel real, I want to throw up, my head is spinning. Just yesterday I was thinking, "Oh, cool, we're 3 months in. Only 9 months to go before this is over. We're already 1/4 of the way through! Heads up!" and now suddenly I know that these next 9 months are going to be like an eternity. It's nauseating. And it's very, very real.

As I write this, I really have no idea how I'm going to get through the rest of this year. When I don't hear from my husband for a few days at a time, I find it very difficult to eat (I am quite the opposite of a binge eater). I find it very difficult to do the daily exercises that I have set myself to do. I have very little motivation and I feel like the space between my parents and I is getting wider and wider apart. It's rough, trying to keep myself healthy physically and emotionally. I often get a burning, wrenching sensation in my stomach, likened to a black hole trying to suck my spirit away.

My brain is having a hard time processing the harsh reality of the person I love having to dance with death. It's so ludicrious. It must be a dream. It's going to be a crazy year, son.