When we started dating, I was a young professional: driven, focused, and successful by most 27-year-old’s standards. My boyfriend was six years into a potential 20-year career in the Army. I was just beginning to understand what our relationship might mean and how it could change the future I’d planned for myself.
It was clear that, like so many before him, he felt once you cross that 10-year mark, staying makes more sense than leaving. You’re halfway there. And so, we built mental countdowns around the 20-year mark. We could do that, right? 20 years. And we made a deal.
Starting off a new marriage with a “deal” didn’t seem strange at the time, but now, just the thought of it makes me chuckle. Oh, the things we couldn’t know then.
Nevertheless, in the early years of our marriage, the deal was this: we’d dedicate our new family to the Army for the next ten years. He’d arrive at the magic 20-year mark and retire. He’d coach little league, be a house-husband, and I’d go back to my career.
We’d focus those next ten years on my work, letting my dreams lead us. By the time my ten years were up, we’d be in our 50s. Predicting beyond that just seemed silly. But, I would get my turn.
From years six to 20, I continued to work, full time until we had kids, then part-time and from home. We made choices to support the evolution of my professional path into something mobile and flexible, but still present. My years working from home always felt more like a job than a career, but I was maintaining relevancy in my industry and honing my skills. I was contributing to our household finances and interacting with colleagues, all while raising the littles we had at home and navigating our lives through multiple deployments.
Professionally, it was fine. Not amazing, but fine. I was grateful to have a skill set that made remote work possible. I knew I was among the fortunate. A few times a year I’d have a melt-down about how my career had died while he took his “turn.” I’d hate the Army, hate my life, and maybe hate him just a little. Then I’d go to bed, wake up, and put on my “big girl panties.” I’d cut resentment off at the knees and honor our deal. With the pity party over, I’d be back to feeling grateful that his sacrifices allowed me to work and still be home with our young children. It really wasn’t a bad “deal”.
I don’t know exactly when it happened, but there was a moment around year 17 when I realized that we might need to make a new deal.
The young, inexperienced Soldier that I had dated and married had matured into a different kind of man. I witnessed the changes a little at a time. It was clear that leading, serving, and mentoring were all cornerstones of who my husband had become. His ambitions were changing. He was energized by making a difference, and I was jazzed to watch him in his element. And so, I don’t remember if we ever had a true “so, here’s the new deal” conversation, but I feel like it just evolved naturally.
The new deal was this: we’d stay until one of four things happened. If he no longer felt he was positively contributing to the lives of those he led, if the family sacrifices were too great, if the Army was ready for him to move on, or if he simply stopped having fun, then we’d carve out a new path in civilian life.
By this time, I’d stopped working in my field, in part because we were stationed abroad and in part because I was enjoying my volunteer work with our unit. I’d considered using that time to pursue a new degree, but the thought of retooling and reentering the workforce after years away started to feel (unexpectedly) overwhelming. Learning how to be a student again, in my mid-40’s, did not sound fun. At all.
I wasn’t sure I wanted “my turn” anymore. I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I began to believe that perhaps there were other ways I could carve a path, while he continued along his.
Then it came. I was edgy and couldn’t figure out why. It was May, and I felt an I-hate-the-Army day coming on. Anyone else have those? Eventually, I realized what it was. I was grieving. He’d made it to 20! We’d made it to 20! And instead of becoming this critical date, circled on every calendar in the house, it was just another day. Our deal had died. It was no longer the goal. The goal line had moved over the last few years, and though I knew it was happening, it hit me like a ton of bricks.
For the 12 years prior, I had believed that if he wasn’t with us, it was because he was where he was needed more. We missed him, but we were fine. But then we crossed the 20-year mark, and it all changed. All of sudden I was so sad, and I didn’t get it. Why now?
Appropriately, most celebrate that magical 20-year mark by acknowledging the mountains of sacrifice it took to get to that point in one’s military career. Watching that 20-year mark pass you by is a different kind of sacrifice. You’ve earned the opportunity to walk away from a burning building and instead, you walk back into the fire. Yes, a dramatic analogy but not completely untrue.
We were choosing to continue to put him at risk. We were choosing to spend more nights apart, to navigate more deployments, to miss more birthdays, more anniversaries… We weren’t choosing us. We were choosing to continue to put the needs of Soldiers, their families, and an American ideal above that of our family. I wasn’t regretting the choice, but I was grieving “our deal” beneath the weight of our new, uncertain path.
While I know there aren’t droves of Soldiers reaching the 20-year mark each day, there are plenty. And if you are one or love the family of one, just know that a virtual hug, a prayer, or positive vibes go a long way during a strange time. Everyone comes into this new chapter with a different mindset, but I’m willing to bet I’m not the only spouse needing to take a moment to find the new goal line.
Tell us! Have you Have you ever been surprised by the emotion felt when reaching a goal, only to realize the goal line had moved? How do you cope with that change in a positive way?
Jennifer is a military spouse of 12 years, 6 moves, and 4 duty stations. She’s also a business owner and lover of travel, Italian wine, German Christmas markets, fireworks, favorite socks, cream cheese icing, warm bath towels, and morning snuggles with her kiddos.
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I was a deer in headlights. In spite of my napkin and pen session with my future husband, I still had a lot to learn about military life when we got married. And I realize every day that I still have a lot to learn.
While dating, my then-boyfriend and I talked a lot about the uniqueness of life in the military. In addition to our essential “napkins” conversation, one of the other discussions during our dating months centered around duty locations. My ears perked up the ONE time he’d