Every year there’s a new term or phrase that resonates with a large population. Sometimes it’s a trendy new word that’s made up, and other times it’s a revived older word that’s being used incorrectly and takes on a whole new meaning. But one phrase has me thinking about our recent move to the NOVA area.
The term I am referring to is,“soul-sucking”.
Yes, oddly enough, this is the word that resonated with me the most this year as an Army Spouse.
I first heard about this term over the summer when my twenty-six weeks premature special needs toddler was continuously catching viruses. In just 10 months, he was admitted to the hospital seven times. Sometimes it was as little as three days, others it was over a week.
Another special needs mother told me she could relate and that it was a “soul-sucking” experience.
I thought it was interesting that I honestly could not find any other way to describe my situation. Balancing my kids schedules around hospital stays, struggling to remain working, taking ambulance rides with him during transfers, all on an empty stomach and little rest.
But, I am a military wife after all and many aspects of our lives can be soul-sucking. The fact that another spouse can look me in the face and tell me “Maybe the army life isn’t for you” or “you just have to have thicker skin” contributes to this experience being soul-sucking.
No duty station is created equal. You could fall in love with one place and be destroyed by another.
All military spouses aren’t created equal either. What one spouse can endure; another could fall apart. What one spouse considers a cakewalk; another spouse feels like she’s walking a tightrope across the Manhattan skyline.
We are homegrown folks from Texas. My husband’s first two duty stations were in Texas, and when he went to Korea, I patiently waited for him in Texas. When I went out there to visit him in Yongsan, I thought what a lovely place! The food was amazing, the weather was great, but most of all, the people were heartwarming.
On my second day there, my husband was not yet on leave, so he asked me to wait in the hotel I rented until he gets back. Well, I did no such thing. I was way too excited and enthralled at this wonderful new place that seemed so welcoming and exciting. I took to the streets, bought a train card, and began navigating my way through the towns by myself.
Not once did I feel unsafe there. Not a single person declined to help me when I acted like a confused tourist asking for directions. And most importantly, they were always eager to offer support. PCS’ing off our homeland didn’t seem so scary anymore.
That’s what I thought for about two seconds. Shortly after, we got orders for the Pentagon. I remember congregating with my coworkers, many of whom were former military or active spouses, and asking what they thought of this area.
There were only two solid answers about living in NOVA.
The city born spouses raved about this place beyond words, and the Texas born spouses were cautiously optimistic for me.
I researched what I could, and slowly but surely, things didn’t seem so great about moving. Now how was I going to present my feelings to my husband who was gung-ho excited about this assignment?
Surely, I would have to save face again and prepare myself for another soul-sucking experience under a forced smile.
We traveled by vehicle and mile after mile the cost of gas got higher and higher. The cost of hotels also got higher, and the amenities offered got lower.
When we finally arrived in northern Virginia, I had this gut-wrenching feeling that it was too late to escape.
I kept a lot of this to myself, because as a spouse this is what we are trained to do by each other. Even when I tried to vent my feelings to a former spouse or a family member, I was always hit back with a lecture on how I must support my husband without distraction because of his important job. It is an idea that is engrained in me: do not make things harder for him even when I am crumbling inside.
Nonetheless, I kept my cool. I tried my best to find my footing, but this isn’t a place for soft landings. I was repeatedly bullied at work. Locals told me to get used to it.
When I found a great job, my son was hospitalized again and again. I left. I found another job, and then my husband’s schedule changed to nights. I was out of a job again.
My smiles were running out and my bills were piling up. How would I ever succeed here?
I have no idea. I am still figuring it out. I make the trek through hours of traffic daily, even though I am exhausted and drained.
I leave with my kids in the dark at dawn. We return in the dark at dusk. I have found entertainment in counting the number of people who cut me off or veer around me when I am driving under seventy-five.
I get a sense of excitement when I cheat dinner and order take-out instead. And I no longer feel awful when I forget to hold the door open for the person behind me at the store because they’re so used to mean people that they don’t care!
Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration as I refuse to act like some of these tough northerners.
But through all of this, ironically, I could not survive without the lessons I have learned from Military life. The Army has stopped short of teaching me to be a true chameleon in any environment, but here’s the thing. They always say, “If one thing is for certain, it’s that nothing is for certain”.
That means that these soul-sucking experiences, the daily trying to blend in, fit in, file in, it all ends somewhere. It is all temporary. Every soul-sucking experience, just like duty stations, is only temporary.
So, I will gratefully hold on to the heartwarming words of the Army, that even the good places and great friends you encounter in the military, are not set in stone. This place is not “for certain” and that is what keeps a smile on my face.
That is all I really know.
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