“I can’t do it anymore.” The heaviness surrounding our last few weeks as a family finally caught up with me and putting on a strong face was impossible. These five words raced through my mind as a I tried to give myself a pep talk. “You’ve got this, sis.” I kept saying to myself. “You’ve done this before.”
But, here’s the truth. None of us have done this, deployments or short tours, before while being in the midst of a global pandemic-during an election year – in the middle of some of the craziest natural disasters (thanks, hurricane Zeta). This, by far, has been the most challenging season of my adult life.
Nearly three months ago, my husband boarded a plane to spend an entire year away in Korea. He had been PCS’d to Kunsan Air Force Base in South Korea. When the orders dropped, we had the hard conversation about where we, the family, would live during the year.
There were really only two options. We could stay put at our current station and move at the end of his Korean tour. Or, we could pull a rabbit out of the hat and hustle to relocate before he left. Staying put sounded terrible, as I had just endured a six-month long deployment in Georgia for most of 2019 and let’s just say that the experience was bleak.
So, we opted to move.
There is nothing like a fresh PCS followed immediately by a short tour (in the middle of a COVID crisis, homeschooling, maintaining a full-time job, etc.). The winds and waves of change blew my schedule and routine into smithereens. The grief of losing friendships and community tore through our home as well.
The hurt and heartache endured from long separation seems to stack. While the tides of life continue to ebb and flow, we press on through the mundane daily activities of running a household and managing every task. Slowly, the aches and pain from wanting and waiting begin to take their toll.
Finally, I allowed myself to have my first long cry.
I stood in the shower with the water raining down over my face. Not knowing where the tears ended and where the shower began was refreshing. I typically live by the rule that crying never solves anything, but in this instance, the crying wouldn’t stop.
I’m just so tired.
I’m tired of re-starting our lives and rebuilding my children’s hope in this way of life. I’m exhausted from trying to meet new people and carry the weight of making new friends (especially, since I feel like I have no mental or emotional real estate for the task). I dread the awkward conversations when questions are thrown like knives. “When did your husband leave?” or “How long has he been gone?” The worst, albeit well-meaning, is the “I’m so sorry. I bet you really miss him, huh?” They slice through me and I just don’t have anything else to offer but short, one syllable answers.
But, here’s the rub. The short tour isn’t ending, the move is still fresh, COVID-19 is still on the rampage, and the kids are still home. The work will not stop and the time will keep rolling. I’m going to have to jump back into the military boxing ring and finish the job. The house needs to continue running, friendships need to be made, and I need to take care of myself.
So, I took my moment to cry, I washed my face, and shook it off. I made time to really think about what I needed to carry on well. I decided I needed my mom, a hot cup of coffee, and some quiet time for myself. I put on a fresh pot of java, called my mama, and sent the kids outside to play. It was just the quick breath of air I needed.
Here’s my advice from the trenches.
Think about what you need in the short term and do your best to get it (or something close to it).
I have discovered that getting up 20 minutes earlier to drink my first cup of coffee in peace drastically impacts my mood in a positive way. In addition, when I’m lucky enough to sneak away with my hot cup of coffee and join a friend for a video coffee date, it is even better.
Plan ahead.
I’ve allotted some money in our budget to pay a regular sitter. Long term, I have got to be able to get out of this house on somewhat of a regular basis to maintain my sanity. I’m looking forward to a few leisurely strolls through Target and maybe a trip to Chickfil-a (and I won’t have to share my fries with tiny hungry people).
Ask for help.
I know this seems overly simplistic, but I have found that asking for help really does change the game. Ask for the favor. The other day, we were putting up our Christmas tree (I know, I know. It is ridiculously early…) and I ran out of batteries for the toy train set that goes around the tree. I called my neighbor, sent her some cash, and asked her to run to the store for me. She dropped off the batteries (along with a card and some encouragement) and everyone was happy!
There is encouragement for those of us who are drowning. We can set our expectations and do the next thing. We can be honest about our struggles, feel the hurt, and keep moving. Our ability to tread water for long periods of time makes us tough.
Our situation is far from rosy, and I am still excruciatingly tired, but I hope to continue to keep my focus on the things within my control. I will keep taking steps. This season will end (maybe not as soon as I would like). In the meantime, I’ll keep a sharp eye on what I need, plan to make it happen, and ask for the help that will make all the difference.
Megan B. Brown is a seasoned military spouse and military missionary. She is the Military Liaison for the Speak Up Conference Global Missions Military Scholarship and the 2019-Armed Forces Insurance Robins AFB Military Spouse of the Year. She is passionate about military mission work and teaching and preaching about Jesus in and out of the local church. Her Bible study, “Summoned: Answering a Call to the Impossible,” published by Moody Publishers in Chicago, will release in April 2021. She lives in south Mississippi with her husband, Keith, and their energetic kiddos. She is a Bible teacher, speaker, and freelance writer. To learn more or connect with Megan, visit www.meganbbrown.com.
