
Some seasons of life leave your head spinning. You may feel lost, out of touch, in the dark…feeling as if you will never find a way forward. This is how I’ve felt since leaving the military behind. I know it was the right choice for me, but it doesn’t mean it was an easy one to make.
After that major life change, I lost my sense of purpose, and a significant portion of my identity. I would have loved to jump right into another career, apprenticeship, or on-the-job training, but fate had other plans. About halfway through my med board, I found out I was pregnant with our daughter.
Thus, before I could find my (employment-related) sense of purpose again, I was heading toward a second major life change, becoming a mother. No employer in their right mind is going to spend resources training a pregnant woman, much less employ them. So, I focused on preparing myself for parenthood (as much as anyone can) and taking college classes.

The third (consecutive) major life change, was switching hats from being active duty/dual military, serving alongside my husband, to being a military spouse. I thought it would be easy, having been on the other side of things.
I was surprised to find that it wasn’t. I had a lot to learn, now having to handle a multitude of things that are taken care of (or decided for you) when you are a servicemember.
More than that, I suddenly felt like I didn’t fit in anywhere. I wasn’t a soldier anymore, I wasn’t a regular civilian; I was a female veteran struggling with severe PTSD. At the time I didn’t feel like I could fit in with, relate to, or trust any male veterans with PTSD because mine is not combat-related. I felt like an outcast, a misfit. I felt alone.

A few months later, when I brought our daughter into the world, I had little to no community, no strong network of other moms around me. I was the only female in my last unit (and I did feel a bit ostracized because of it), and I didn’t really know any other military spouses. All of my family were hundreds of miles away.
My “village” consisted of one friend that I met through the Army pregnancy PT program. She got out around the same time as me, but she didn’t stick around, and I can’t say I blame her.
Upon looking around and seeing no family and only dead ends for jobs, she left the area shortly after, returning home to Wisconsin. Being married, I didn’t have that choice unless I didn’t want to see my spouse for however long.
Just six weeks later, I unexpectedly lost my mother for major life change number 4. If I didn’t feel lost, confused, and despondent before, I definitely did following that tragedy.
When my husband received unaccompanied orders to Korea, we moved to Oregon to be near my husband’s family. I couldn’t bear returning home with my infant daughter with my mom being gone, passing away before even getting to hold her.

This time in my life was really damn hard. Learning to be a mother while simultaneously grieving the loss of my own mother felt like being torn in two, but I did my best. I pivoted to focusing on fitness and nutrition. After getting some measure of the healthcare I needed to manage my disabilities, I returned to school.
I did that for a while, desperately trying to fill the void of a sense of purpose with it (and not succumb to my depression). That is until it became too difficult to be a student, a struggling disabled veteran, and my own caseworker/patient advocate, whilst also looking after our infant daughter. While I am grateful for the support network I found there, it was not nearly as strong and vast as I needed it to be.
Despite it all, I nearly achieved an associate’s degree, had it not been for the college level math credit requirement. Advanced math (i.e. algebra) has never been a natural inclination of mine, and I hadn’t done Algebra since high school. The advisor said I needed 3 refresher courses first before I could take the class that would earn me the credit I needed.

With everything else I was going through, I simply didn’t have the necessary time or energy to take that on. Consequently, I put that goal aside. In hindsight, I doubt I was aware of resources that may have been available to me through the VA or the state that could’ve helped me during that time.
Maybe I should have tried harder to find them. Maybe all I could do during that time was survive. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Just hang on, keep telling myself it will eventually get better. Looking back now, I haven’t the foggiest idea as to how I made it through that difficult chapter of my life.
Fast forward about nine years and many cross-country moves later, my husband is finally retired, and we are finally done with that life. This prompted the sudden, unexpected realization that I never fully transitioned to civilian life when I got out all those years ago.
Having immediately became a military spouse after I got out, I wasn’t able to truly leave that life behind until he was out too. As a result, all of it came crashing down on my head all over again, at full capacity this time. My head was reeling with all the things I was juggling and struggling with. My mind a constant swirl of questions and dark thoughts:

I love my kids more than anything on the planet and I have no regrets about having them. Still, part of me will always feel a tad discontent about not being able to take advantage of those “transitioning service member” opportunities right away. For as I’ve discovered, there seems to be a lot more resources and opportunities for transitioning service members than there are for veterans later on down the road.
There’s this wry feeling about those opportunities just being gone if you aren’t able to take advantage of them right away. It feels a bit like a raw deal. The reality is, not every veteran gets to “transition” right away. Not every veteran can obtain sustainable employment right away.
Not every veteran can utilize the resources available to them right away, be it lack of awareness, lack of availability, struggling with their disabilities, trying to figure out where to call home, or trying to identify future employment goals. Answering those last two questions is often a complicated process. We’ll touch more on that later.

More importantly, where are the programs to help people like me? Female veterans, who are pregnant on the way out, and/or chose to raise a family first? How do I find a way back to decent employment, a path forward? Where is the light in the dark?
Between juggling VA claims and compensation, navigating a new medical system that kind of works with Tricare but not really, learning to manage your disabilities is tough. Particularly if you have more than one disability, particularly in more than one category.
Have you ever struggled with staying afloat in your mind, when nothing you try seems to make it better, and struggling with different types of pain at the same time? It is an absolute shit-show. It takes time, sometimes years, to figure out. Especially if you’re also a military spouse, still moving every 1-3 years, starting over with new providers each time.

Then there’s learning how to be a good parent, without family or a community to guide you. All the while trying to find a decent job or search for a new career path. These endeavors also made harder by frequent moves.
Every time it feels as though you’ve settled, and you’ve caught your breath long enough to figure all of that out, you’re uprooting again. Don’t get me wrong, all of traveling and adventures we did (mostly) on the federal government’s dime were also awesome.
We got to see some amazing places we probably wouldn’t have otherwise, met some great people, and made some unforgettable memories. We also found a few areas we definitely did not want to settle in when we were done. But that lifestyle is definitely not for the faint of heart.
However, after that chapter is over, there’s trying to figure out where the heck you belong in the world now.
- Where can you get the support and sense of community you need?
- Where is good for your kids?
- Where do you want to live? Where does your spouse want to live?
- In terms of a support network, which family members are still alive? Do you have friends back home anymore?
Even after answering those questions, and moving to the location you think is right, you may find that it isn’t after all. You may come to realize that it takes a couple of moves to find your place in the world. After completing that phase, the question then becomes what the hell do I do now? Take a knee? Obviously. Then what? What’s next?
Go back to school for something? Obtain a certification? Find an apprenticeship? An internship? What job opportunities are close by? Do I have enough experience? What usable skills do I have at this point in my life?
Trying to get back into it after a long employment gap is tough. Especially if you feel like a busted-up vet with severe PTSD who feels as though they can’t handle jack shit. That’s where I’m at.
I feel alone in my struggle a lot, though I know I’m not. I’ve never been the “popular type” of person, and there are scores of people I would never want to see or ask anything from again. Many more than I can say I actually liked and felt as though I could count on.

I know I will figure it out. I know I will never give up. All the shit I have been through is enough to shock therapists who’ve seen/heard it all. Having survived all of that, and with all of the effort I have put into growing and trying my best to be a decent person, I know I deserve to lead a happy, balanced, and satisfying life.
Most of those components have fallen into place. The last piece of the puzzle for me is finding decent employment. I’m still searching for my path forward, a direction. I’ve never been one of those people that knew exactly what they wanted to be when they grew up. And that reality effing sucks sometimes. I have often wished I was one of those lucky people.
Anyhow, I have been told that my story is unique, though I doubt that I am the only one who has or is currently walking this path. One of the people who’ve told me that, is my friend Manda. She inspired me to tell my story. Maybe there’s many more out there like me, whose struggles differ from the masses, and available resources fall short of our needs.
The Veterans Affairs has figured out women veterans’ healthcare needs are unique and different from our male counterparts. The fact is, so are our struggles in the employment and education sectors. Simply because we are the ones blessed with the ability to carry and birth our children.
Maybe it will help if we are talking about these particular struggles more, even if it isn’t the norm. While the majority of veterans are men, the number of women veterans is growing.
Hence, it makes sense to make these topics more mainstream. Even if that number wasn’t growing, we are still here, and we still matter. We deserve to have our needs met too.

Not to mention, the one thing that hasn’t changed is that childcare usually falls to us women to figure out. Finding safe, dependable, and affordable childcare is still a nightmare in 2024. Not to mention, the challenge of finding family-friendly employment after staying home for a while to raise our children.
My final thoughts include a sincere hope that discussing these issues more often helps. I hope that it inspires more employers to step forward with opportunities for us just the same as if we were still transitioning out of the service. I would love to see policy amendments, like changes to the 2018 Farm bill that states (as of the writing of this article) veterans are only entitled to veteran farmer benefits for 10 years post-service.
Our veteran status does not expire. Neither should our access to benefits and resources that can help us find a way forward, and help us not give up hope. Sometimes it takes longer than we would like for the dust to settle, for the right path forward to become clear. Those resources should still be there for us when we do.
How about you reader? Do some of my struggles echo ones you have experienced? Please comment below. Are you a veteran with a transition story you would like to share? Please feel free to email me and with your permission, I will gladly share your story. We are here, we matter, and we are not alone.








