Military Spouse Sh*t Sandwich { Military Life }

Cussing Ahead. You’ve been warned.

I am a stressed out military spouse.

We’re moving soon, and my stress level is threatening my sanity. Writing is one of my coping mechanism, read more on Moving and Losing your Village. It doesn’t take much to see that my ability to “roll with the punches” is starting to wear out. We’re about half way into my spouse’s military career and I’m about ready to call it quits.

I don’t want to move.

I don’t want to deal with deployments.

I don’t want to continue to be a unemployed because of constant change of situation.

I don’t want to live across the globe from friends and family and support.

I don’t want my kids to grow up without a steady home.

I don’t want to investigate into every public school, private school, homeschooling option because we’re moving and our house location depends on this.

I don’t want to say goodbye to my best friends.

I don’t want to move into a new house only to hate it 6 months down the road.

I don’t want to move into a new neighborhood to hate it 6 months down the road.

I don’t want my kids to forget their first language because we’re stranded in a country that doesn’t speak it.

I don’t want apply for jobs I have no idea if I will be able to keep if a sudden change comes our way.

I don’t want to start new projects that need a lot of time and energy because I know I will have to eventually pack them up and leave them unfinished.

I don’t want to be a house wife that sucks at keeping up with her house.


I don’t want to have a pity party because holy shit how fucking entitled am I.

I have a lovely home, filled with crap I can afford to buy.

My children are beautiful and healthy.

My husband is incredibly patient and loving.

I have friends.

I have family.

They might not be close all the time, but they are there, cheering me on.

My fridge is full.

I have access to medicine and care if I seek it.

My children are safe, my home is safe.

Who the fuck said that I could “have it all” or that I deserve to have it all.

No one.


I’m sitting here having an identity crisis because the world is telling me that being some mediocre stay at home mom isn’t enough to be happy, it isn’t enough to feel accomplished, it isn’t enough to feel proud.

Well fuck that.

I have accomplished plenty. I have plenty.

I have more than most. MUCH more than most.

Fuck off with your ridiculous WANT IT ALL bullshit. I don’t need to stress about that garbage because it’s not even real.



I AM enough.

I HAVE enough.

And sure, there is plenty of stress on my plate, but good lord, OPEN YOUR DAMN EYES, so much to be grateful for.

I’m getting sucked into this culture of more more MORE and forgetting I ALREADY HAVE MORE.

This is all a bunch of bullshit stress caused by some culture built on greed and entitlement, a culture that promotes individuality to the point of isolation, that promotes hate to the point of self loathing, that promotes monetary success to the point of degrading service and self sacrifice.


You know what’s happening this weekend? Memorial Day.

Sitting here stressing over the little things when I have brothers and sisters crying over a grave.

I will pick myself up, take my military spouse shit sandwich and eat it. And I will be fucking grateful for my shit sandwich, which is a hell of a lot better shit sandwich than a whole lot of other folks around the globe, near and far.

It’s called PERSPECTIVE. Wake up. Stop crying. Put on your big girl panties on and move the fuck along, Lili.




Glad I got that off my chest. PEACE.


Clarification, in the case that any is needed… I wrote this piece to myself, for myself. Please don’t assume that *I* assume that a change in perspective is going to alleviate depression, anxiety, or any other mental health disorder, that’s just stupid. Take your fucked up notions of “just stop thinking about it” as appropriate advice for anyone suffering through mental health issues somewhere else. We good? Ok. Bye.

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