I’ve wrestled with anxiety my entire life. But growing up in the 80s and 90s, we didn’t label it “anxiety.” We didn’t really label it anything, and as a result, I thought everyone wrestled with the symptoms of Generalized Anxiety Disorder, or GAD.
The night before I started kindergarten, as my mom tells the story, I was “nervous” and didn’t want to go because I wasn’t going to know everything.
So, yeah, I might not be able to credit the military for giving me GAD, but it was known to fan the flames on more than a couple occasions.
Nine Digits
As a newlywed, on my second-ever visit to a military treatment facility, I was given some less-than-ideal test results and was sent to the lab (wherever that was) for bloodwork. When I finally arrived at the lab after an embarrassing number of wrong turns, all the worst-case scenarios running through my head, the lady at the desk asked me (everybody now), “What’s your sponsor’s social?”
I stupidly told her I had no clue what my husband’s Social Security number was.
She yelled at me. I cried, for a lot of reasons, but being on the receiving end of a scolding in public was in my/the top five.
Later that day, I learned what an Interactive Customer Evaluation comment was. And today, while I can quickly recall his social, when I’m asked for my own, it takes me a minute to dig it out of the recesses of my brain. The longer it takes to recall it, the more anxious I get, which only makes it harder to focus and easier to start nervous sweating.
Are We Having “Mandatory Fun” Yet?
The years kept rolling, and my anxiety was thriving in this environment of forced socializing with strangers, unknowns at every turn, pressure to get involved (mostly self-imposed), anticipation (of deployments, homecomings, orders, PCSes), and waves of unemployment, solo parenting, homesickness, postpartum depression and grief.
Over time, my “specialty” when it came to anxiety became social and anticipatory anxieties. And, just to keep things spicy, parenthood unlocked a whole new level of stressors, and each year, the list of “Things I Should Probably Know By Now” grew, which only added new opportunities (in my mind) to embarrass myself or not fit in.
Naming It, Owning It, Doing Something About It
Keep in mind, up to this point, I hadn’t received a diagnosis. I hadn’t seen a mental health professional … ever. I thought everyone faced the same symptoms. I just needed to toughen up, push them down, so I could face challenges (however small) as calmly as anyone else. Pro tip: That doesn’t work.
Leaving an OCONUS base after a particularly difficult and emotional tour while the raging pandemic threatened to foil our PCS more than once, I was reaching “cry uncle” levels of (what I now know is) anxiety. I didn’t know what to do or what would happen if I answered yes to any of the mental health screening questions scripted into every primary care appointment.
What my stubborn, I-don’t-need-help self was beginning to understand, though, is that this might not be normal, what I was doing on my own wasn’t helping, and it was not fair to dump all my stress and fear onto family and friends.
So, at a virtual primary care appointment (thanks, COVID), I answered those screener questions truthfully for the first time, and I received a mental health referral.
That was it. It was that easy.
I began seeing a therapist. In our first session, I unpacked everything through sobs. She listened. She helped me put a name to my tangled knot of symptoms, and through our sessions, she taught me how to balance the good stress that motivates us to do anything and the bad (which keeps us up at night and makes us worry over things we can’t control).
It’s been almost six years since I was diagnosed, which means I’ve had almost six years to navigate military life (and retirement) knowing what I was working with and confident I could handle it.
As my husband planned his retirement and life post-Marine Corps, my hand was steady (and, more importantly, not sweating).
Armed with what I learned in therapy, I didn’t find myself chasing the what-ifs, stressing about the invitations or cake or losing sleep over changes in income. And while he found himself anxious about the future (understandable, given the transition), I was able to share what I learned with him, and now with you.
Ask yourself: What am I anxious about? Can I do anything about it right now?
The answer is almost always no, and when it is, I do something to ground myself — often through a breathing exercise — and I redirect my energy.
This quieted nearly every stressor in military life because so much is out of our control as spouses, and to its credit, the Marine Corps was very generous with opportunities to practice coping strategies.
Now, even as we’ve put military life in the rearview, I hold onto this perspective — at work, at home, while watching the news and when I’m stuck in traffic.
No, the military didn’t give me anxiety, but it ultimately helped me identify it. It gave me good friends who don’t shy away from discussing mental health honestly and openly and it let me leave feeling empowered to handle challenges ahead. It might not have been the smoothest ride, and I took the long way, but the view from here is spectacular!
Blog Brigade unites military spouses by creating a community built on shared experiences and mutual support. Navigating the complexities of military life can be challenging, but you don’t have to do it alone. Military OneSource offers valuable resources focused on well-being, readiness, and connection. Explore a range of mental health resources tailored to your needs.
