One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned, as a military spouse, is how sacred my peace of mind truly is. If I’m being honest, it’s a concept I’m still learning. It firmly falls into the “easier said than done” category, but I’ve come to realize there is nothing more impactful for military spouses than preserving the sanctity of our sanity.
The past two years have included several moves, intense training, and solo parenting three young kids while living completely displaced from any family support. It has also never been so painstakingly obvious how delicate my peace of mind is, and how quickly it can deteriorate and crumble.
Perhaps a decade as a military spouse is to blame for my mental fragility, the culprit behind the PTSD and anxiety that resurfaces with every PCS, TDY, and deployment. Each transition demands a level of “resilience” that pushes us to step outside our comfort zones: to get involved, meet people, find that emergency contact, attend every coffee meetup, playdate, and spouse social. We put ourselves out there to build a temporary, yet essential, foundation of support, stability, and normalcy, over and over again.
I’m not ashamed to admit it took this long to step into my power and learn how to simply say no. Or rather, to recognize when I needed to say no. To instead say, let’s take a raincheck, I need to reschedule, or my brain cannot today.
Shortly after arriving at our current duty station, I had scheduled a get-together with friends about a week after we moved in. When the day arrived, I realized I had to cancel. I wasn’t adjusting well, and mentally and emotionally, I was treading water. We had jumped straight back into the training ring, and my brain went into panic mode. The juggling act of household tasks, homeschooling, unpacking, parenting, and coming to terms with the fact that we were about to repeat the past year all over again felt cripplingly overwhelming. I had to be realistic; I needed to simplify life.
I texted my friend, and though it was vulnerable, it was honest: “I need to take a raincheck on that playdate, mentally my brain is on unpack and settle mode. And honestly, this jump back into training hit me harder than I expected. I think I got PTSD from last year!” She couldn’t have been more understanding and supportive, especially as a fellow military spouse who had just gone through the same thing herself. To my surprise, she felt the same way. To say that short text exchange was a soul saver would be a massive understatement.
It was a swift realization that if I wanted to keep moving this family forward, I needed to slow down and regroup. I had to ask for help and talk to a professional, because I couldn’t do this on my own. I needed support adjusting to yet another new reality and tools to help me cope with the anxiety and overwhelm I was experiencing.
Too often, as military spouses, we force ourselves to adjust to yet another “new normal,” and we do so by quietly giving up our peace. Sometimes it’s intentional—we say sure when our heart isn’t in it, or yes when we know we’ll feel heavier afterward. Other times it’s accidental, when we jump into something only to realize it’s more than our minds or bodies can handle.
Either way, we risk becoming cautionary tales of a toxic form of resiliency—one that preys on our peace of mind. And there is nothing worth that sacrifice.
We all know this life is a crazy ride, I’ve said it a million times. But if we want to not only survive, but truly enjoy and thrive in this life, we must protect our peace. And yes, we are resilient. But resiliency also looks like a capable military spouse who knows their limits and finds strength, rather than shame, in their ability to say no.
