The Liberating Realization That Nothing Is In Your Control

This article first appeared on militaryspouse.com’s website on August 8, 2017.

She gave up!

It’s happened to us all, or it will. It’s the day you finally give up, the day you realize that nothing is in your control and you surrender to it all. It’s very liberating. And as a military spouse, I wish all of you the peace and happiness you will find when you throw in the towel.

When I was first married, I was as bright eyed and hungry for adventure as most are. How could I not be? My fiancé had promised me a life of travel and experiences. While he was still at the Air Force Academy, he filled in his dream sheet.

Ah, the intoxicating form that makes us all go crazy.

It is billed as a way to state your desires and have them fulfilled. And at this point in our lives, I believed it. We wrote down our wishes and fantasized about where we would start our Air Force career. Our top choices were, of course, overseas assignments. After that came locations on the East or West coast. We are New Englanders after all and the ocean calls to us.

Imagine our surprise when assignments dropped and we were relocating to Omaha, Neb.! That’s nowhere near an ocean OR anywhere exotic.

Let’s call this Disappointment No. 1.

Eek!

But as a good military spouse, I looked at it as a new adventure anyhow. Nevertheless, it was somewhere I’d never been.

We arrived at Offutt AFB in the middle of the summer and my husband began his life in the command post.

That job required shift work so our schedules very rarely meshed. Disappointment No. 2.

Our first Christmas had him working mids while I had the time off since I taught in public schools.

That would be Disappointment No. 3. I cried quite a few times that holiday season.

After a year, my spouse cross-trained into a new field and we were heading to Florida for training! Woohoo! I get my ocean!

But wait, Disappointment No. 4 is on the horizon.

We are at Tyndall AFB and located nearby is a papermill. So, every day the breeze would deliver that lovely smell. I tried to be positive since I got my coastal living but it was hard since I was pregnant and my senses were heightened.

I knew that after training, we would be heading to Oklahoma. Disappointment No. 5, but at least I was prepared.

Really?

Back in the early 1990s, there wasn’t much to brag about in Oklahoma City. But we bought our first house and found great friends. Life was good — for a while.

Around the three-year point into that assignment, our friends started getting new duty stations. My spouse and I began mapping out where we would like to go and how our lives would look at each new base. He would hear of new assignments and we would start dreaming.

“Saudi Arabia is available.  What do you think?”

“It’s not my first choice, but it could be fun.”

“They need someone in Hawaii.”

“Duh. You don’t need to ask, just put in for it.”

“How about Alaska?”

“It’s so cold there but I guess I could do two to three years. It would be different.”

You get the picture.

And here come Disappointments Nos. 6 to 25. 

Each time he would talk about a change of scenery and it didn’t happen, I was crushed. More disappointments came as our friends would go to new bases and we remained in Oklahoma.

After five and a half years, we moved to Georgia. I was beginning to think that I could surrender to the Air Force gods and go with the flow. But I would be sucked back in whenever my husband would pull out that carrot called the dream sheet and I would get my hopes up once again.

The final straw for me came when a higher-ranking officer told us that my husband was getting a remote so she could assign him to teach at Weapons School in Las Vegas.While I looked forward to Vegas, I dreaded the remoteIt was that confirmation that we are pawns in the game of Air Force chess that I finally surrendered.

Peace out

Afterward, I no longer took stock in the dream sheet or my spouse’s charts that plotted what would happen if we got assignment X or Y. I gave myself permission to ride the wave without stress. My spouse would try to drag me back in but I couldn’t do it. And let me tell you, I was much happier this way. I never say that I “gave up;” I say that I retained my sanity.

So now as a seasoned spouse, I try to pass my knowledge off to others.

We can’t control much but we can abandon the hold that “what if” has on our lives.

For some people, that concession may never come. But for others, the release of that one area of our lives can be so freeing that everything else seems easier. It is a sweet surrender.

I’m free!

Confession: PCSing is Bad for My Health

Originally published by NextGenMilSpouse on April 2, 2018

There are many reasons peoplecomplain about PCSing. Some comment that the moves comes too frequently. Others bemoan the time and energy involved. Still more note that their household goods get ruined. Me? I find that I’m failing to take care of myself.

That’s why I’m declaring that PCSing is bad for my health!

I went to the doctor the other day for an issue with my foot. It had been a problem for a long while, so I finally did the grown-up thing and called to get an appointment. While there, I realized that my birthday was coming up and so I should probably schedule a mammogram. The first question they ask you is, “When was your last one?” I replied that it was last May. I thought I was doing pretty well considering it was October. But when the receptionist asked where I last had the procedure done, I realized that it was at our last base. And that means that it was more than a year and a half ago.

When I'm PCSing, there are WAY more pressing things to do than to find a doctor or schedule a dentist appointment.

The realization dawned on me that this is not the first time that my health care has gone by the wayside.

Every time I move, there are more pressing things to do than to find a doctor.

Where is the grocery store? Down the street. Is it closer than the commissary? Is it worth the drive? Starbucks? Gotta find the closest one!

But ultimately, I know that first and foremost is unpacking my household goods. I find myself putting items away at a blistering speed. I hate the sight of all those boxes and paper lying around the house. By the weekend, I’m pestering my spouse to hang pictures and curtains. If I had my way, every box would be unpacked by that first weekend.

Then I must enroll the kids in school. With that comes all the secondary tasks to go along with it. If it’s the summer, I have to still buy school supplies and new clothes. Like many of us, I wouldn’t buy notebooks and pencils beforehand because that’s just one more thing to pack or keep track of. Then there’s the job of keeping them occupied while I wait for school to start.

I also need to schedule THEM for a school physical and that is a herculean task considering all of the students who have been at our new location have scheduled their exam much earlier so the pickings are slim at the base hospital. Do I dare try a walk-in clinic or do I rearrange all those well-laid summer plans to take the first available appointment? Each time it seems like I make the wrong choice but c’est la vie! Check that box off!

Next on my list is finding a dentistfor the family. Here is where I find I can put myself in the mix. But of course, there are no appointments for a month out. Add that to the fact that it took a month or two to get to this point in my PCS move and I’m now three to four months past my regularly scheduled time.

But hey, that’s better than a year and a half, right?

Now the kids are in school, the house is unpacked, and I can go on with my life. When I worked full-time, the days were occupied with that and when I was done, I’d fill the rest of my time with the kids and their activities. Working part-time usually meant that I clocked in, worked, clocked out and then ran errands or volunteered until it was time for the kids to come home from school. When I was a stay-at-home mom, I filled my days with tasks that revolved around the kids.

In each scenario, I was my last priority.

Even though I nagged my spouse to see a physician at every issue, I didn’t do the same. Nor did I worry about yearly physicals for him since he is required to do so. I marked that as a small victory; I wasn’t responsible for that task.

When I'm PCSing, there are WAY more pressing things to do than to find a doctor or schedule a dentist appointment.

Just like the NyQuil commercial that says “Moms don’t take sick days,” I don’t take sick days. And since I don’t take time off for colds, I don’t go to the doctor often. That translates into never calling the doctor’s office.

And that means that I forget to make appointments for my well-being.

The only positive result of my neglect is that the American Congress of Obstetricians and Gynecologists recommend that you get a pap smear every three years. But I can’t get too excited. They still require that I see my OB every year. My little victory is still a failure.

The moral of my tale is don’t be like me.

Moving around the country or the world is a great experience and I need to be healthy to enjoy it.

Next time I PCS, the order of importance is: Find a Starbucks, call the doctor, and then get to the commissary! (I can only improve so much.)