Forever What?

My soldier came home last week and told me he was three-quarters of the way done with his retirement papers.

Yeah… That is my face. I think it’s stuck that way right now and maybe for months to come, because the mixture of emotions, fears, anticipation, and excitement that come with this announcement are all mixed into it.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Be excited or terrified.

Tell the world, or keep it a secret.

We’ve been doing this Army thing for a long time, and his announcement did not come as a surprise except that it happened so fast. I knew he was working on retirement paperwork. I was part of the decision-making process to determine the right timing. In particular, we don’t want him to deploy again. But, when he made that statement it sent a shock through me that led to some feelings of finality, and I wasn’t prepared for them.

Do I still get to call myself a milspouse?

Do I still fit into the community? I don’t know any retired spouses and yet I live in one of the biggest military retirement communities in the United States.

Where are they hiding?

Why don’t I know any of them?

Is it me being blind to their presence, or maybe they just don’t identify themselves as milspouses anymore, or do they really just slip out of the active-duty view like they no longer count?

Retirement.

All of a sudden I’m feeling like I’m losing my tribe.

And it terrifies me. 

I am many things.

I am a mother and stepmother.

I am a small business owner.

I am a writer.

I am a lover of books and storytelling.

I am a sister, wife, auntie, cousin…

And I am a military spouse.

It’s not just what I am. It’s part of who I am. It doesn’t define me, just like no one thing defines any human being. But I can’t ignore it and pretend it doesn’t matter to me.

It matters. I love being a military spouse. I love the adventures the Army has sent my family on. We’ve lived on three continents. We’ve moved almost 10 times. We’ve met life-long best friends that we love dearly. Now after serving more than 20 years, when all that retirement paperwork is done, it’s not just his career that we’re retiring from. And, when we’re finishing terminal leave and that final day comes, I will once again be saying goodbye.

Only this time it’s not just another PCS. There’s no newcomer’s orientation. No housing to connect with. No orders to fly with. No uniform to pack. No 10 days of permissive TDY. No FRG welcome basket. There’s not even a job lined up right now.

But, I get a forever home.

Forever what? What if I don’t like it?

What if I don’t fit in?

What if, what if, what if…

I didn’t realize how much pressure I would feel now that it’s time to take this next big step. My life has partnered so long with my husband’s career that I’m navigating a very new, terrifying, exciting, and anxiety-laden path to something called forever.

I’m the first of my close friends to hit this stage. But one in a long line of military spouses to navigate retirement. In my search for clarity I’ve learned that each one has had to forge their own way and find their own peace. I’ve decided to take this on as a challenge. And someday, when I meet the next retiring military spouse, I will put my arm around them in understanding when they say, “Forever what?”

And if you’ve been here and done this, send words of wisdom, and help a fellow retiring milspouse out.