But just because you knew doesn’t make it any easier. Being prepared doesn’t cancel out the hard parts.
There’s a phrase that gets tossed at military spouses like a passive-aggressive grenade—smiling on the outside, condescending on the inside.
“You knew what you were signing up for.”
Ah, yes. The Greatest Hits of Things No One Asked You to Say, Vol. 1.
You’ll hear it everywhere. From a well-meaning aunt who’s never moved out of her hometown. From the comment section on a military spouse support thread. From the spouse of someone in another branch implying that their lifestyle is harder. (Congratulations on your suffering, Janet.)
And maybe, on your lowest days, you’ve even said it to yourself. Quietly, like a warning: “You knew what you signed up for. Get it together.”
Except. No.
Yes, you did “sign up” when you said yes to getting married. Sure, you probably knew that the job came with spontaneous goodbyes, weird hours, relocations, Tricare. And maybe there was the briefest awareness that once you said, “I do,” you’d never (ever) think about civilian life the same.
You knew.
But did you know what it would feel like to explain to your kid why Mom or Dad missed their birthday again? To forever use pencil on a calendar and not pen because you know all plans will eventually change, no matter what?
Did you know what it would do to your nervous system to live in a constant state of “maybe”? Did you know you’d become a one-woman or one-man logistics team, therapist, and spiritual advisor every time a deployment cycle started?
Let’s be clear: knowing doesn’t make it easier. Knowing just means you’re bracing for impact. You still have to survive it. Thrive through it, even. And here you are, one cup of coffee, one Command hook, one unhinged PCS binder at a time.
Myth #1: You knew, so you can’t complain
Look, we all read the fine print, or at least skimmed it. We knew what we were stepping into. But knowing the stove is hot doesn’t mean you enjoy burning your hand on it every two years.
You can know military life comes with hard seasons and still feel wrecked by them. You can anticipate a goodbye and still fall apart at the gate. You can mentally prepare for being the solo parent, the house fixer, the emotional anchor and still want to scream into a void when your partner’s deployment gets extended again with zero notice. When they get stuck at the office (again). When you can’t plan a date night because you have no idea if their chain is going to keep them (again).
This life demands a lot of you. And you’re allowed to be honest about that. Anyone who says otherwise should be gently escorted off your metaphorical porch.
Myth #2: Other people have had it worse
This one shows up in sneakier ways. You hear about someone whose spouse is deployed longer, whose housing situation is worse, whose kids are struggling harder. And suddenly you feel selfish for feeling anything at all.
But listen. Pain is not a competitive sport.
You don’t need to earn your right to struggle. You don’t need to hit a certain threshold of hardship before you’re allowed to say, “Hey, this really sucks.”
Your hard is hard. That’s enough. Comparison doesn’t heal anything. It just keeps us all pretending we’re fine when we’re absolutely not.
Myth #3: Grace is only for civilians
There’s this unspoken idea (sometimes whispered, sometimes shouted) that military spouses have to be tougher than the rest of the world. That grace, gentleness, softness… those are luxuries for people whose partners don’t wear a uniform. As if you forfeit softness the moment you marry into the military. As if breaking down means you’re not cut out for it.
Let’s call that what it is: a lie.
Here’s the truth. You’re allowed to unravel. To feel resentful. To be angry at the system that you love to support, worn thin by the emotional calculus you do every day just to keep things moving.
What you did sign up for
You signed up to love someone who serves. You signed up to walk beside them through the unknown. You signed up to build a life together that doesn’t always fit inside a neat timeline or fixed location.
The truth: grace, not grit
In case no one has told you: You’re not weak for finding all of this hard. You’re not dramatic for crying during commercials when you’re three months into deployment. You’re not a bad spouse for counting down the days until your partner comes home and also wanting five minutes of quiet once they do.
You’re human. You’re navigating a life built around sacrifice, uncertainty, and a very inconvenient knack for your spouse getting orders right before your kid finishes third grade.
You deserve support. You deserve softness. You deserve to say, “This is hard,” without someone handing you a lecture in response.
So the next time someone says, “Well, you knew what you were signing up for,” feel free to smile sweetly and reply:
“Sure did. And I still get to talk about it.”