eala

I've been having a hard time emoting since I got back to Iraq. Leave was, well, wonderful (an understatement), but now that I'm back, I just don't have words. I hear about something tragic, and think only, "hm, that sucks" in a bland sort of way; I hear about something beautiful, like my dear friend Chiquita getting married, and think, "hm, that's nice" in the same bland voice. One of my senior NCO's approached me a couple nights ago to ask how leave was. I told him it was great while it lasted. He remarked that I seem happier now than I was before I left. I told him, quite truthfully, that I was simply less stressed, and that is due entirely to the fact that I simply can't bring myself to care like I did before. He wasn't sure how to take that, I think. Perhaps it's an unfortunate thing. I don't know. Nothing seems important to me now. I miss my friends and family, but, other than my son, I can't seem to force myself to make the effort to communicate across the ocean. I've opened a new blog screen here 4 days in a row, only to close it, empty. I've neglected even my poor father. I called him once, in the past month. Even talking about my leave, in anything other than broad terms ("It was great"), is difficult; my mind shies away from journaling those 2 weeks, as I had planned to do. I don't feel much these days; maybe I can't allow myself to - maybe this is self-preservation. I don't know. I don't really want to examine it right now. I feel guilt, though, because I'm losing contact with the people I love. Some of them, I think, will understand. Some will not. I don't know if I will ever be able to explain it. I don't know if I will be able to examine it, as I normally would. I'm usually so analytical, even of myself. Or, especially of myself. Being home - stateside, with my family, though not in my own house - was euphoric; the trip back - the moment I walked away from my son, I think I died. I don't know how else to describe it. I have lost a piece of my self.

I miss you all, my loves, my friends, my family.