We Are Not The Hats We Wear: Why Mindset As A Military Spouse Is Important

We all have different stories as military spouses – where we grew up, what life was like before we got married, and where we have been since – but there is one thing most of us have in common: our career hasn’t panned out quite the way we expected it to in one way or another. We have had to compromise, shift gears, reinvent ourselves, pause, and in some cases, let it go altogether. 

How many times have I been asked, “So, what do you do?”

This question has hit me differently over the years. At times I was proud to answer it and show off my hard-earned credentials, and at other times I felt an underlying sense of grief, shame, or resentment depending on what box I was forced into as a military spouse. 

It didn’t occur to me how ridiculous the question really is until I stopped buying into the popular idea that our worth is determined by what we do. This deep knowing came when we were stationed at a remote assignment with an entire community of spouses who were in the same boat. There it was illegal to seek employment, challenging us to find our worth outside of labels (and beyond our spouses’ jobs). Together we had a collective a-ha moment – we are not our work. 

Not working – or not being able to do the job of your dreams – can come at any point in our military journey, not just on a remote assignment. No matter what, the feelings are the same. It’s natural to feel grief, sadness, frustration, resentment, helplessness, restlessness, and a wealth of other emotions when accepting the sacrifices we make as military spouses. Part of those feelings come from a sense of loss not only of our working careers but our very identities. Acceptance comes with a great deal of inner conflict and self-doubt.

As a group of spouses, we began questioning the system that told us we should feel this way, and embracing the redefinition of ourselves based on our qualities and character, not our accomplishments. Who said we are “less than” without a career? The question “What do you do?” has nothing to do with who we are…but that’s not what we learned growing up in America, where productivity and the almighty penny is often prioritized over people. 

I came from a household with two working parents, and my mother was the breadwinner. From a young age I knew I wanted to be someone who helps people, thanks to the constant question from adults “what do YOU want to be when you grow up?” At the time, responding “housewife” or “stay-at-home mom” was unheard of, because being a SAHM is severely undervalued in our culture. Education was very important in our family, so I always envisioned myself going to college, pursuing a career, and someday being a working mom, the same as my mother. It was ingrained in us that “going after your dreams” was the only acceptable path (often at the expense of our wellbeing), and anything less showed a lack of drive and perseverance. 

And so, I was either in school, playing sports or working from the time I was 16. There was never a moment when I couldn’t answer the question “What do you do?” because I knew what I wanted and where I was going – and I was motivated to get there. 

Then there were wedding bells, and the day after our honeymoon the hubby was whisked off to OTS. This was my first taste of reality as he was gone for 3 months right after we got married. At the time I still had stars in my eyes for our life together and pursuing my career because I still believed I’d have no problem finding work in my field – after all, “there’s a need everywhere!”  

I hit road blocks immediately, as licensing rules in the first state we were assigned didn’t align with where I got my education and would not be worth the effort to sort out. Baby #1 came quickly, and I compromised constantly for two years on what I did for work, holding out for the perfect opportunity at the next base. This is a very common story for milspouses regardless of career path, with or without children.  

We PCS’ed again and I decided to return to work after the birth of our second child when she was just 3 months old. It was driven by a sense of urgency that I would lose everything I worked for if I didn’t continue in my field. This was such a gut-wrenching decision and one I return to over and over in my head – did I do the right thing? Was it worth it? Honestly, even in hindsight, I don’t know.

Like many, I had to leave my job when we PCS’ed again 8 months pregnant with baby #3, and I decided to take a break and become a stay-at-home mom with three children under age six. I embraced it with the caveat that I would start work again when only one or two had to go to daycare. I held onto that invisible bargain because it somehow preserved the identity I had worked years to earn and put off whatever looming grief I sensed would come if I let go altogether. I treasured this time and quickly realized motherhood is a full-time job – one of the most important jobs I had ever had. As a SAHM I did a lot of reflecting, compiling a list of common truths we share as military spouses:

• Just when you get used to something, it will change.
• Your career comes second to your spouse’s career.
• There will sometimes be discrimination against you applying for jobs.
• You will be flying solo or single parenting often.
• Your chosen career might not be conducive to transient military life. 

The sooner I realized and accepted these things, the more at peace I could be with where I was at. Even as I surrendered to and accepted these truths, I held on tightly to my accomplishments to justify my existence. I did NOT want to let go of that hat. Why did I give that hat so much power? I figured if I didn’t, then all that education and time spent earning that hat was a waste, wasn’t it? 

In the women’s group at our remote assignment, we helped each other through these kinds of difficult questions. We asked ourselves, “Would I be the person I am today without those experiences? If not, then the experiences themselves had value. Lessons like “it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all” transferred well to careers put on shelves. We laughed when finding creative ways to answer the question, “What do you do?” and our favorite was, “You mean what do I do to make money, or what do I do for fun?” We realized we don’t judge others based on shallow criteria like the color of or existence of their hats, so why did we judge ourselves? The truth is, what really matters is how someone makes you feel. Are they kind? Helpful? An engaged listener? Or did they make you feel less than? These are the qualities that make us think highly of a peer – not their credentials or achievements. 

So at the next spouse social, what should we say instead of “what do you do?” 

Ask what I love about this assignment, or what have been the biggest lessons I have learned as a military spouse. Ask me what I am looking forward to, or if I have any hobbies. Ask me what I’m most proud of, what my dreams are, or what brings me joy. If a person shares what they do for work, look for the qualities of that job that tell you about them as a person – helpers, organizers, creative thinkers, etc. We have to work together to shed the cultural stereotype that what we DO somehow defines us and is the source of our worth, because the truth is, it is not. 

How do I know this for sure? None of the things that I have done in my life tell you much about me – they’re just hats that can be taken on and off. I have been an athlete, student, coach, teacher, therapist, artist, writer, volunteer, working mom, stay-at-home mom, travel planner, public servant, and community organizer. Do any of those things define me? Absolutely not. What they have in common is being a helper – and that does define me. I can do that every single day, one way or another, paycheck or not, and feel fulfilled. That’s who I am and who I knew I was from a young age. I want to know who you are underneath all the hats you wear. The hats are lovely – congratulations on those hats! – but the hats aren’t there for me when I need a friend. I want to get to know the heart of the person wearing them. We are not the hats we wear.  

P.S. We do not have to be defined by our spouses’ hats, either. 😉