Two days ago, we pulled up to our North Carolina home and breathed a massive sigh of relief.
Home. We made it.
But at the same time, the tears welled up. I didn’t want to come back to spending my days isolated and alone, I wanted to be around family and friends. I want my son to spend his days wrestling with Pop Pop and brushing his teeth with Grandma and sitting on Grandpa’s lap to eat breakfast and helping Nanny cook dinner.
We go where the military tells us to go, and the military has told us to move here, where the nearest Target is 35 minutes away and walking anywhere is a joke. We love our house, we love our neighbors and neighborhood, we love the friends that we have, and we love our church. It’s just that my husband works hugely long hours and we only have one vehicle so my son and I don’t get out very often.
The previous three weeks were spent at my husband’s parents house in Ohio. All his siblings and their spouses and the grandparents were there, along with the dogs my toddler son absolutely fell in love with, and it was glorious. My son and I both thrived on the time we had with loved ones.
But alas, leave must always end, and we had to come home.
Now, three weeks later, we’re adjusted back into our daily schedule.
We wake up, eat breakfast, do chores, go to the park, eat lunch, have nap time, make dinner, eat dinner, have play time, and go to bed.
Exciting, right?
And except for going to the park with my neighbor and son’s best friend, it’s all done alone. My husband has been home but he’s been exhausted and overworked and is dealing with an injury that has left him an invalid.
So much time alone.
There is something to be said for routines, as routines have gotten us through every day. There’s also something to be said for sweet toddlers who love to sit on your lap and share ice with you, or who’s giggles and tiny footsteps perpetually fill the house. My little boy is a huge joy and I love spending every day with him–even the ones where I feel like his craziness is going to make me lose my mind. Also, Jesus–always Jesus. Jesus is the one who gives me joy as every day looks exactly the same.
It’s just hard always being alone, you know?
If only there was some happy medium where we could drive to see family for the weekend or had friends who weren’t always ridiculously busy (like my husband is) down the street who we could get together with on a moment’s notice. If only we had that neighbor that became the best friend and didn’t leave due to a deployment or changing orders and if only there were regular meet ups at the parks and it was easy to get there.
If only, if only, if only. There’s no point counting all the if onlys because it usually turns into nothing but complaining and complaining helps nothing at all.
Still, I think we can all recognize that military life rarely leaves us with happy mediums.
We go from one extreme–being home for the holidays and staying with family, assuring we’re around them literally 24/7–to the other extreme–staying at home with the littles while the husband works, spending all day every day alone.
With a second car, obviously there’s much more freedom introduced. I have friends who make it a point to take their kids out at least once a day, and they schedule play dates and meet ups at the park and go to spouse socials and plan dinners with friends. It helps–oh, it certainly helps–but even those moms tell me it’s hard and they still feel alone so often.
A lot of it is just a mom thing.
Being a mom is lonely. We’re in our own small world with tiny people who have a lot of needs and take a ton of attention. I don’t know any mommy friends, military or not, who haven’t at one point felt very, very lonely.
But when the military takes you away from your family and friends and drops you off on the other side of the country, and then you make friends and the military picks them up and drops them off 500 miles from you, and then it just keeps happening over and over again, it’s especially lonely. Oh, and then they take your husband and send him to the other side of the world for half a year at the time, which doesn’t help much either. We face a special extreme.
It’s a challenge, especially for little children who don’t understand instability, to go from spending time with loved ones during leave, trying to cram every single fill of activity and love and games, to being back home, going through meal times and bath times alone. How can we make this transition easier?
I’ll be the first to admit I don’t really know. I’ve been back for nearly a month and although I’m back in my routine, I’m still struggling.
With my son, I’ve been intentional about spending quality time focusing on him to try to ease the loneliness that’s evident in his sweet blue eyes too. We Skype with family often. I make a concerted effort to go to the mom’s group at church and a local military wife Bible study (concerted effort = finding lots of rides) and these two groups are huge for me as far as companionship is concerned. We try to go to the park by our house every day with my neighbor and her daughter because then my son has time with a friend and I do too!
It really comes down to planning beforehand. On the days where I wake up and think, “I would really love to plan a play date today,” it never happens because at that point other people have plans or rides are unavailable. If you want to spend time with others, you usually have to let them know in advance.
Most of all, I don’t look to people to fill the void that loneliness brings. My friends are a huge blessing to me, but only Jesus can fill that void. I make my devotions a priority and when I’m feeling down I talk to Jesus–that relationship with him means during the extremes, I have a constant.
Extremes are tough. Discouraging. Discombobulating.
When you move from one extreme to the other and it’s your way of life, it can become normal. It’s an expectation. But for others, it makes the light at the tunnel seem very, very dim. We all adjust differently. I leave you with this:
When your life is a swinging pendulum of changing extremes, Jesus is your constant.
You can learn to swing with the pendulum or let it knock you down.
And as you learn, there are many other wives and mamas out there fighting the same battle of loneliness or discouragement or frustration. Lots of other women wishing for the “what ifs.”
I wish I could give you more but what I can assure you is the following–I am fighting the battle right along side you too. You are not alone in this.