“Military life is hard.” As spouses, the power of that statement has lost its punch. Are we numb? Are we so accustomed to chaos and unpredictability that it doesn’t faze us anymore? Or maybe we’ve evolved with the instability of everyday life, and we’ve just learned to suck it up.
Whatever the reason, that phrase is usually followed by a few tears or some laughs from military spouses after a good trauma-bond vent sesh.
Military spouses are labeled as resilient, capable, strong and independent, and while obviously true, those words don’t capture the actual weight of what is constantly being carried. So while some call it resilience, I call it the homefront hangover.
The homefront hangover is the burnout many military spouses feel as we plan, prepare and predict our next move, upcoming deployments, trainings, and/or transitions. The other day, I sat quietly scrolling through a general military spouse Facebook group, and as I read all of the comments and questions, I realized just how much we do as spouses to survive this lifestyle.
“How can I help my husband cope with his PTSD?” “What is base housing like?” “Is anyone stationed at Fairchild Air Force Base?” “What’s the best school district?” “How can I help my husband, who is deployed but struggling to sleep?” “Do they accept TRICARE?” “Does anyone have a babysitter they recommend?” “My kids are really struggling with this recent move/deployment. Any suggestions?” “We’re EFMP…” “I’m new to the Air Force…” “Hi, my name is Sarah, and I’m looking to meet up for coffee…”
Coffee actually sounds amazing, so grab a cup and let’s get into this.
As military spouses, as hard as we may try to avoid it, we hear the news on the radio, television, or, more than likely, on social media. And when we have “skin in the game,” that information scares the hell out of us because of what it could mean for our family. Our whole world shifts with a simple text —“soooo I’ve got some news” — and before we know it, we’re preparing our kids for the next deployment. But here’s the kicker: it’s not simply the deployments, it’s the constant possibility of them. It’s the uncertainty that surrounds them and the state of this world that fuels it.
And while that stress plays on a loop like a bad record in the back of our minds, parenting is still parked right there, front and center. I know I’m not alone when I say that as a parent, I’m always doing my best to regulate before reacting, taking deep breaths and trying to remain calm when absolutely everything is on fire. Just typing that sentence exhausts me. And as tiring as it may be, it’s still only a fraction of what military spouses do for their children. We create stability when the ground is moving, teach resilience while we’re still figuring it out ourselves, and constantly try to soften the weight of uncertainty while reminding them that even when plans change, everything will be OK.
Again, pure exhaustion behind these keys over here. Whew!
So how in the hell do we carry all of this? How do we keep showing up and somehow still laugh about it?
The truth is, we don’t need a best friend everywhere we go… we need a coffee friend.
Because when the uncertainty becomes that screaming toddler in the backseat that you can’t quite tune out and the burnout inevitably creeps in, sometimes what carries us through isn’t strength at all: it’s each other.
Yes, building a village matters, but that doesn’t always look like Grey’s Anatomy–level friendship with Meredith Grey and Cristina Yang. Sometimes we don’t have the emotional bandwidth, or we’re simply not in the right season to build something that deep.
Sometimes, what eases the burnout is much simpler.
Someone who understands without a full backstory. Someone who can relate without needing explanations. Someone who just listens.
Maybe it’s the mom you always end up talking to at the park. Maybe it’s the one you exchange eyerolls with at spouse get-togethers. Or maybe it’s the friend you meet for coffee now and then — the one who helps carry the weight, so you walk away feeling lighter.
At the end of the day, military life will never get any easier, and the ground will never stop shifting. But I truly believe the goal isn’t stopping the movement but rather learning how to steady each other when it does. And resilience isn’t something we will ever master, but it is something we can continue to borrow from those little moments with our fellow military spouses. It’s in the quick texts, knowing laughs, and shared coffee. Because when the uncertainty becomes that screaming toddler in the backseat that you can’t quite tune out and the burnout inevitably creeps in, sometimes what carries us through isn’t strength at all: it’s each other.
