It’s no secret that I’m a rather outgoing gal. I’m an extrovert to the core and energized by being with people. I’m not afraid to try new things and tackle a new adventure, which probably makes being a milspouse a solid fit for me.
So, with this personality set up, one might think that “having fun” comes naturally. Surely I’m the life of the party and always looking to add fun to my everyday, right?
There’s one phrase I heard thousands of times growing up: “Stop fighting with your sister!” My younger sister and I were 18 months apart and as different as night and day. This apparently is the perfect recipe for near-constant fight-like-cats-and-dogs conflict.
Alas, here we are—the final chapter of our milspouse marriage advice miniseries. (Don’t miss Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3). I’ve waited until the end to share my personal milspouse marriage advice, mainly because patience is a virtue (and as a milspouse, I always need an opportunity to practice that!).
I’m a Kansas girl. When I’m asking about picturing home, it’s where my mind goes. I was born in a small-town hospital in northwest Kansas and spent the first two-plus decades of my life as a residential Kansan.
Now, several years and duty stations later, I still proudly call myself a Kansan. I’ve also learned how to field those always-predictable questions that immediately follow my answer about where I’m “from.”
“Kansas, huh? Have you seen Dorothy lately? What are tornados like? How’s Toto doing?”
I start every military move (PCS = Permanent Change of Station) the same way: I purge, sort, and organize.
Just a couple of days ago, I found myself up to my eyeballs in all of our memories from our storage closet. We’re getting ready for another PCS in just a few short weeks, so I went to work.
I was surrounded by pictures from high school, trinkets and keepsakes from growing up, and so much military memorabilia.
I’m not one to get fired up and rant about stuff (and really, compared to some of the hoopla we see on social media, I’m not sure if what’s coming is even classified as a rant). But, there’s one response that people give me when I’m trying to articulate the struggles of military marriage that grinds my gears:
“Well, you knew what you were getting into when you married him.”
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