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Ugh - I'm finally letting myself look at photos from my last season on Ice two years ago. I chose the shots that hurt my heart the most because I just had to let myself go there. I like the stormy, dark days of winfly and the overcast days in general, and the top photo is sentimental in too many ways to have to explain. I have an alternate contract, as I did last year, but I didn't get called up last year and may not this year. I still have the doggie to take care of, but I'd give anything for everything to line up in place and have a dog sitter so I could go back. This is the time of year that feels particularly sharp, as this in when the first batch of folks are about to deploy. There was talk of a winfly only deployment, which would have been perfect: I had a dog sitter for the six weeks and wouldn't have to move out of my apt - but I wasn't far enough along in my PQ process to be a contender. There is a chance I will get all the medical appts. done before last winfly flight, and the job that was being talked about would have been  (like everything having to do with the past 8 years and the Ice), like wow, like really, I get to do THAT.

Missing one season is hard. I've done it before and I feel like I'm missing out on so much. I am emotionally crippled stateside as I cannot recreate the social and tribe like intensity that exists there. I was just on one of the more fun trips I have every been on: tweaky busy travel to a different gorgeous Scandinavian port every day, and in the midst of this heady and uberfun time, I would lay in my private cozy stateroom watching the craggy coastline go by, thinking it doesn't get any better than this, but also aware of a deeper, more honest feeling hiding under the lid I have so tightly placed over it: it does get better than this. And not just better but edgier and weirder and so much more badass and wonderful and just more fun than I could have ever dreamed life could be. Somehow, a permission to be this realized, solid me just happens after my first day of station life. I have tried every way I know how to feel that me that is there, here, and I cannot do it. When those wheels of that cargo plane touch down on the Ice, the self that I'd been waiting all my life to meet blasts onto me with icy air. I am home. The Ice, and especially McMurdo, have given me everything. The only way I can pay her back is to just keep going and doing my best to do what is asked of me. I have and will continue to feel like an orphan until I can go back.

Looking at these photos has a profound impact on me...things had gotten better and better over the seasons and and sitting here next to me is the only reason I can't go back: a 15 year old dog who wants all of me all of the time. It is an odd situation to be in, and I guess my only option is to wait.

I have surrendered to the fact that I have to go back to be happy. I've tried everything to try and make myself feel otherwise. The pearl at any price has been found, and I won't ever let it go.