Glass Half Empty. Now, Where'd That Waiter Go?

Today, my friend asked me in a casual conversational way, "What'd you do today?"  I answered with a little bit of this, a little bit of that and I dabbled over here, too.  And then something struck me. 

I confessed to my friend how I can never seem to finish one, set, project.  I can't organize wardrobe boxes from recent growth spurts and season changes.  I can't set Kyra's school work to a regular schedule.  I can't form a long term meal plan.  Hell, I can't even manage to straiten my own bedroom. 

I don't have anything more than usual on my plate.  Somehow, though, I can't seem to accomplish anything well enough to call one thing "finished." 

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I recently traveled to spend the holidays with my side of the family.  It was nice to see everyone, but I can't say I was happy to be there.  Within just a couple days of getting there, I was already wishing to be home, in what has become my sanctuary.  Messy, unfinished or otherwise, my home has become my safe place. 

The baby wouldn't sleep through the night, instead reverting back to a newborn's waking schedule.  Lydia refused to leave my side unless I slipped away undetected.  Kyra couldn't catch a break while searching for and stretching her boundaries with those she hardly knows.  And I... 

I was tired and exhausted, cranky and emotional, overwhelmed and alone.  As much as my family is my family, they don't know me from Adam.  In a family of pristine, downy white sheep, my wool is as black as the richest farm soil. 

Nothing terrible, awful or even tragic happened.  But no matter how quiet and wallflower like I try to stay, no matter how pleasant I try to keep my smile, I still feel like the outsider trying to find her way into the exclusive club.  Some things never change, whether I'm 13 or 31, Awkward be thy name.

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I keep trying to tell myself this is way too long I've been feeling this way, but is it really?  I run between being sad and self-deprecating, to lonely and isolated, to plowing through with a smile.  Is it all symptoms of deployment, post partum or a combination?

Would someone who didn't have a 4 month old baby to contend with feel all these same emotions?  On the other hand, would someone without a deployment feel all these same emotions?  I've had PPD before, and while I never felt adequate, I also wanted to off myself.  At least I don't feel the latter.  And I've had the loneliness of deployment before, too.  Though I've never had the new baby at the same time as the deployment. 

Would someone with more, continuous sleep under their belt be asking themselves the same questions? 

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My sweet baby Ruby is three days shy of 20 weeks old.  As of today, Jeremy has been deployed for 17 of those weeks. 

I miss my husband dearly.  And not just at 12:30, 3 and 5 in the morning. 

I can't wait for the heart of my family to come back home. 

I keep waiting for the new normal to set in, the deployment normal.  So far, the normal is still a giant hole I can't seem to help but to pace around.