The other day I found myser pulled into a conversation that was meant to stoke a sharpened sense of urgency into my heart. The precise topic of the conversation isn’t really important, but for the sake of context I will say that it was about getting ready to pack up and move.
“Nothing is ready!”
“No thought has been made to anticipate the impending move date!”
“This is going to be a big problem!”
There was more to the (largely) one way conversation, but I could sense that any interjection on my part would not ameliorate the situation. Never mind the fact that I do not enjoy arguing, but more importantly, I recognized that this was not a discussion that I would be setting myself up to win. My job was to sit there in receive mode.
I think it’s fair to say that everyone has their internal barometer set differently. A culmination of both lived experience as well as innate personality causes each of us humans to react differently. It’s what makes our planet turn with so much interest. And sometimes with a bit of frustration.
As I sat at the kitchen bar, I continued to listen and nod. I understood that this was an airing of one person’s stress level, and so of course I remained mostly silent. Further, from a young age I’d learned that a raised voice is counterproductive and unwelcome to my ears—and it is with this knowledge in mind that I opted to keep my peace. By not speaking I knew that this conversation would end sooner rather than later. Finally though, there was a pause in the discourse. It was clearly my time to offer my own personal perspective. I could tell that the person sitting across from me was ready to cancel out whatever I had to say.
“We’ll get there,” I told her. I said only this because I knew it to be the one incontrovertible truth.
And then of course, cue her rebuttal that was essentially a reboot of what had started before. I sensed that I either needed to withdraw from this conversation or pour myself a glass of wine.
What I was really thinking during this entire experience was that I knew that this person and I had very different lived experiences. And while I didn’t know for sure the details of her life, I did know in granular detail the experiences on the other side. The side who is being accused of doing nothing to prepare for a major life transition. The side that has spent decades navigating a military life that includes a kaleidoscope of every mutating challenge. And as is the case with so many military members, that includes children and the house of horrors known as divorce. All much harder challenges than what we were sitting there picking apart around a kitchen table.
I am painfully aware that life is not a contest to see who suffers or endures more. I am also aware that military service members are not the only ones dealing with obstacle courses of ridiculous crap that have always assuming a semi-crouch position, waiting to beat down the next alligator that will pop up next to our boat. But perhaps it is fair to say that our line of work (more than many others) is an operating environment whose base code is one of dynamism. Where are you required to perpetually plan for uncertainty—all the while understanding that whatever you plan for is going to change as soon as you are into it. But you still must plan. And then you must observe and adjust one the fly once your things are moving.
If military life were a symphony, I am confident that it would sound cacophonous and almost nobody would buy a ticket to come and listen. I for one would not. Even as I am (mostly) comfortable in this particular environment, I do prefer quiet things.
The next day we had a new person come over for a chat at the kitchen table. He took a look at the house, understood the impending task and found everything within reasonable parameters. And it is probably fair to say that he saw something that the person the day before did not. He was able to observe that there was already work in progress even if it was not immediately visible to someone else who had never gone through it.
“This place is looking good,” was his observation. I looked around and nodded in agreement.
“Yup, we’ll get there,” I answered.
“Yup.”
It really was a non-conversation, and the conversation then shifted to other topics that felt more productive and engaging— even if on the surface it sounded like we were just shooting the breeze.
I’m not saying that every past or present military servicemember who walks through the front door will have this kind of observation. But on the whole, it is largely true. After 10, 20 and 30 years of wading through this kind of crap, we understand that moving to a new place and starting again is just something that you have to do. We can make out the tiny indicators that show when a person really is not getting their act together. Silent hints that perhaps suggest that something is truly amiss. Small signs that you learn to tease out from a career of planning, observation, and re-planning. And of course learning never actually gets easier—but in the big picture it is just something that you have to deal with. There will inevitably be details that get dropped, some extra costs incurred that you wished you didn’t have to deal with. Items to get rid of and emotional goodbyes that are never easy.
I think a lot about how we all cope with challenges in different ways. I don’t mean to suggest that some of us are superior in dealing with stress in a healthy way (and I am not suggesting that military service members are outstanding when it comes to dealing with stress in a healthy way)—but I do mean to say that it is often most helpful to find meaningful support from the people who have been down roads similar to your own. You don’t need to explain a situation, or make apologies for a perceived state of disarray. Everything is understood, and it helps remove some stress from a situation.
I will say that after both of these kitchen table experiences, we did leave the chit chat behind and embarked on some easily observable preparations to get the house ready. Moved old furniture up from the cellar in order to give it away. Fill trash bags with clothes to donate. Tape off the trim around bathroom doors in order to provide a fresh coat of paint. We’re not done, but we’re getting there. And I have no doubt that in less than a few year’s time, we’ll be doing all of this again.