When I started this blog, I had no intention of writing to military wives. I had been a military wife for a little over a year–what did I have that I could offer? With no experience with my husband deploying, no time in white washed base housing, no extended time in service, and only one PCS under my belt, I didn’t think I had anything to offer the military wives here–many who’s husbands have been in the service for years longer than mine.
Today, after five years in service and an injury that forced him out, our military days are behind us, but I’ve hardly forgotten what it was like. And I miss it.
My husband was lower enlisted. That alone made us the little scum that nobody pays attention to in the military community. When my husband enlisted he signed a contract that essentially equated to I, ——, hereby relinquish any control and say over my life or the life of my family for the next five years.
And they held him to that. That’s how it goes, I know. We do what they tell us to, regardless of how it will affect our family or our service members. I am the military wife who feels like the mistress.
So then I wrote a post about it. And then that post became wildly popular and I realized that these lonely, resilient wives are the ones who I resonate with. They are moms who often parent alone and wives who haven’t seen their husbands in months. They are hurting because they have dreams and plans and desires too, but they don’t fit in with their husband’s careers so they have to let them go. They always come second to orders because that’s how it goes when you’re a military wife.
I might not have much to offer as far as advice or experience is concerned, but I can offer a familiar place. A place where the lonely wife can come on another sad evening spent alone and read about another spouse who felt the same. A place where that wife can reach out and talk to someone else who went through the same thing. A place where she can come laugh at the latest nonsensical thing that happened to our family. Trust me, just because we’re out of the military, the crazy hasn’t stopped!
I can offer hope.
Jesus, joy, and essential oils–that’s how this prior military wife and mom lives life brilliantly.
My husband was in the Marine Corps for five years.
Once a Marine, always a Marine, I know, but that life feels far away now. It’s been a year since he got out and I miss it but I also really don’t. However, that life shaped me–it shaped us, our family, our marriage.
We’re special because of the military. We can handle the endless moves and instability and not seeing family and the separations that haven’t ended just because we’re out.
You, dear friend, are special too. You are stronger than you know.
We PCSed from California to North Carolina a year after we married–hello, not being able to walk to the beach and Trader Joes and downtown and one of the most famous golf courses in America all in less than twenty minutes.
Today, I live in the DC metro area, but for much of my time as a military life after that first PCS, if I walked for twenty minutes I would have hit one of those tiny windy roads with no sidewalks and been hit by a speeding car and most likely ended up dead.
But it could have been worse.
And that, my friends, was one way to find joy in the little things. We might have had orders to the lamest city ever, but at least I wasn’t frying eggs on the sidewalk in 29 Palms. When you’re in the military, it could always be worse.
We did see wild dolphins in the bay behind our house one time. When the leaves fell off the trees we realized we could see the water from our home office. We could actually afford to buy a nice place because we were no longer in California. My husband loved what he did for only one single minute out the day and yet that one single minute was enough to make him want to reenslist, that is, before his injury–really, my husband is the true example of joy in our family. Many times he would walk through the door after working from 6am to 5:30 in the afternoon and drop his gear in the office to come dance with me in the kitchen.
Sometimes it stank. If we’re honest with ourselves, it usually stinks.
But still, I am ineffably, immeasurably proud of my husband and our military and what they do. Pride keeps us all going. Millions of acronyms keep us confused. Military paychecks keep us broke.
Just laugh.
Oh, and always live brilliantly. Make your husband proud of you and what you do. You, the military wife, can serve too.
Read all my posts about life in the military here: Military