ETS and Reenlistment
Nine years. That’s how long my husband has been in the Army. And now it’s time to consider ETS and reenlistment.
There was once a time when I hated him being in the Army, and I couldn’t wait for him to leave it behind him.
We were probably living in Virginia at the time. Let’s be honest—I hated living in central Virginia. It was not a place I would’ve chosen to live on purpose. (I’m sure we all have at least one duty station we feel that way about.) We were only there for two years, but I was more than happy to leave, even though I was still recalcitrant about the next move, which was to Washington.
My husband reenlisted for the first time at his first duty station in Hawaii. I thought at the time, “This will only be a few more years. I can deal with that.”
Fast forward to his second reenlistment, and our discussion about whether or not he should stay in.
The biggest reality check came while he was at work one day. He worked in a building with military personnel, DoD civilians, and contractors. He came home and told me that a contract had been lost, and every contractor with that contract was told to leave the office before the day was over. These people literally had no warning they were going to be pink slipped.
Suddenly, things got a little bit clearer.
Contracting jobs were not going to be around forever. More worrisome was how quickly you could find yourself suddenly unemployed without any warning. Post-Army, he would likely continue in a civilian job using his military knowledge, whether it be as a contractor or DoD civilian employee. That is what really brought us to the decision that another reenlistment was the best thing to do.
As unstable as it can feel sometimes, in some ways, the military is the most stable and predictable thing in life.
I know my husband has been deployed and will be deployed again.
I know he has staff duty sometimes, and classes and soldiers to take responsibility for.
I also know that even though I was once ready to leave it behind, I am not quite ready for it just yet.
Recently, my husband has been dealing with physical aches and pains. After all, nine years can do a lot to your body with training, PT, spur rides, and life in general. He’s definitely not a teenager anymore. Once again, we were both wondering what would happen if the Army decided he needed to be medically retired. His aches and pains are probably not severe enough for that at this point, but you never know, and you are always thinking about what comes next.
His ETS date is less than a year from now if he doesn’t or cannot reenlist, and frankly, that kind of freaks me out. I don’t think I’m ready for this chapter of our lives to be over. Sometimes it feels like it is so difficult and I wish we could be like everyone else. You know, the 99% of the population who isn’t actively involved in the military community, but beyond my occasional gripes, I don’t think I am ready.
Whenever my husband decides he is, I will support him and hope that I am also ready with him, but it feels kind of strange how something that you find yourself loathing one day, you are hoping isn’t going to be over just yet. I suppose it is a double-edged sword in that respect. (Just to be clear, I don’t think he will ETS next year, but that is how I would feel if he was, or did.)
I think that I have learned so much being part of our community, and it has shaped me into a person I might not be without it. Not only that, I have loved living in new places, and doing things I would probably not do otherwise as a result of that. You meet a lot of different kinds of people. Some of them, you become great, and hopefully, life long friends with. Others become a passing memory. You remember the houses or apartments you lived in, and how it seemed so full with all of your things in it until it was time to pack up and leave again. You appreciate where you are a little bit more because you never know when you will be moving to a new place. Everything becomes an adventure, even when it is mundane.
Nine years in, and I don’t feel I am ready for it to end at year ten, but whatever happens, I will always have this part of my life to hold onto and remember as something that was difficult, challenging, exciting, happy, frustrating, and an experience not easily forgotten. I know that many of you feel the same way. So, here’s to the unknown, come what may.
