A Salty Seasoned Military Spouse
Dear Dr. Monica,
I am preparing for yet another move, and while I know this is part of military life, I can feel the mental and emotional fatigue building.
Each PCS brings a mix of logistics, uncertainty, and the pressure to quickly rebuild a sense of normalcy for my family.
Do you have advice for approaching repeated moves in a way that protects mental health?
Specifically, how can we manage the stress, avoid burnout, and stay grounded when it feels like we are constantly starting over?
Respectfully,
A Salty Seasoned Military Spouse
Dear Seasoned (and a little Salty — which is allowed),
Let me start with the word you crossed out. The "salty" was the honest one. The "seasoned" was the version you thought you were supposed to send.
So here's my first piece of advice: stop crossing out the salt.
Holding the resentment in costs you more energy than just feeling it. You can love this life and be sick of the packing tape at the same time. Both are true.
Now the big one: you are not "starting over."
It feels that way — empty rooms, a new commissary, schools to figure out again. But starting over means you arrive at zero.
You don't. You bring everything you've learned from every move before this one. The boxes start over. You don't.
Here's the science, plain and simple. The tired feeling that builds before the move even happens isn't weakness.
It's your body bracing again and again without ever fully resting in between. That's why move six feels harder than move two, even though you're better at moving now.
You're not anxious. You're activated. And an activated body needs rest, not a pep talk.
3 things I'd actually do:
Slow down. The rush to make it feel like home fast is the burnout. Let the new place feel weird for a while. That's not failing. That's recovery.
Bring your anchors. Pick two or three things that travel with you no matter the zip code — a Sunday ritual, a farmers market visit, one steady habit. They tell your body: some things didn't change.
Grieve early. The fatigue often starts before the truck shows up, because part of you is already saying goodbye. Name it. Grief you don't name turns into snapping at your spouse over the thermostat.
You are not starting over. You are the one thing your family starts with.
With you in it,
Dr. Monica
This column exists because one military spouse was brave enough to put words to what many of you are feeling.
If something's been sitting heavy — in your marriage, your career, your identity — I'd love to hear from you. Your letter might be the one that helps someone else feel less alone!
