By Donna Hoffmeyer
(updated for CHW, original post on Medium, Taking Off The Armor)
They say you know when it is time to leave the military, and it is a true statement. I don’t know how you know, but you do. There is no email notification, no social media post; your boss doesn’t tell you (be worried if they do); there is no surprise it’s-time-to-go party
If I could describe it, it is an insidious feeling that starts to creep over you. You might look ahead, and see no path, or see a path that does not include the military. It may be a fleeting thought at first; just daydreaming after a frustrating day. Then the daydream is more frequent, every few months, monthly, weekly, on good days, as well as, bad days. Then you start thinking, Hmmm, I can leave in xx years, or Hey, I can leave anytime I want.
I might have known earlier than many of my counterparts that my service had an expiration date, as I started my countdown 5 years out from my retirement date. My work environment was excessively mentally draining at best, if not toxic at certain times. My sanity was a few like-minded co-workers, an exceptionally understanding husband, and a strong belief in the mission. I also knew if I made rank, I would most likely only have two choices for an assignment…neither of which interested me.
Others may not even reach retirement age before the question, What am I doing here? pops into their head. Maybe they came in with expectations that never materialized, a culture that they do not understand, or a direction they did not choose. Perhaps they came in for the benefits and are following through with their post-military college game plan. Maybe they came in with an entire career mapped out and their journey led them on another path.
For others, the choice is not theirs. They are medically boarded or involuntarily separated. It might feel like the rug was ripped out from under them. For our Guard and Reserve brethren, they could be losing both their military and civilian jobs (e.g. injury affects both careers). These folks are getting the rug ripped out from under them, all while standing at the edge of a cliff.
It can feel like the ultimate loss of control.
No matter how it goes down, the day will eventually come. For me, it was right amid COVID. No fanfare, no ceremony, no party. We were all teleworking at that point, and trying to keep up, so a goodbye was a stretch. There was no animosity, I just accepted it for what it was and moved on.
One day in, the next day out.
At first, it is a mixture of scary and relief. Scary, because there is a reduction in pay…or no paycheck at all. Relief, because the laundry list of “to-dos”, training, and deployment schedules just ended. You wake up with new lists…whether it be the retirees, “I have no list”; medical retirees, “getting back to health list”; to the separated veteran, “I need a job/college/new career path list.” (I’ll caveat here. We’re speaking stereotypes for the story folks…I know there are lots of working retired veterans.)
Both are consumed with the ideology of their new path. The retirees are smiling that first Monday, as their friends are going to work, they are sipping their coffee on the back porch, and posting big grinning selfies on social media. The separated veteran is motivated to land a job to fill the financial gap, register for college, pursue their own business, or maybe a combination of them.
The first month goes by…
The retirees are enjoying investing themselves in pastimes impossible to pursue while serving. There were a lot of baked goods in our house that first month, the start of a jewel-by-number picture I was determined to finish, and our front bushes still have the rocks I painted. They are exhaling as they see their first retirement check in their account.
The separated Veteran is eagerly getting into the rhythm of higher learning, taking a Boot to Business course, or immersing themselves into their new civilian work culture. They are seeing a few differences, but it’s all good…the adventure is still fresh and exciting.
The first 4 months go by…
The retirees have gotten into their routine of no routine. They have become accustomed to their peaceful mornings and afternoon naps. However, all those pastimes are starting to lose their luster…and we start to think. The neighbors now all have baked goods. Exactly how many painted rocks can one do in a day? Those jewels are too damn small to properly place, and what do I do with the panda picture after it’s finished…it doesn’t even go with my décor.
The separated Veteran is noticing the cultural differences on many levels. Their maturity and coping skills far exceed the 18-year-old freshman…hell they even exceed the 22-year-old senior that has been lucky to have their greatest stressor be the English class they failed. At work, it is confusing. People can just not show up? They can say no?
Then 6 months have gone by…and here it comes…the flop.
Not a belly-flop as we know it, but an emotional flop. There is now full awareness this culture is vastly different from the culture we just left, and we are unsure if this is going to work. It’s like the release valve has completely deflated all the air out of military “self”, and now they are unsure how to inflate a new version of themselves.
Of course, the retirees are still enjoying their 8 am wake-ups and quiet mornings, but now they may be sitting quietly trying to figure out their purpose. It’s a bit unnerving and uncomfortable; not quite as rosy as when they first started. They may find themselves calling their friends, still serving, to see what’s going on or make lunch dates with office mates to catch up.
They are torn between wanting to know and wanting to let go.
The separated Veteran is in his routine, but it is mundane. The job may be to pay the bills while they work their way through college. Maybe they even landed what they considered their dream civilian job. However, adjusting to the civilian culture has been arduous. The grass is not as green as they were anticipating. The thought of returning to the military may have flashed through their mind. None of their co-workers seem to have any pride or interest in improving the job. It’s a job…do it and go home. The Veteran doesn’t get that concept at all.
A true story…
A newly separated army Veteran gets a job at a prominent military contracting company. He becomes a project manager over a project that was underperforming and over budget. He was charged with getting this widget made better and within budget. He brings his team together and gets right on it. Within a few months, they are meeting milestones and making progress. His leadership is pleased. In the coming months, the energy begins to change. He is asked by other project managers to not celebrate their milestones so loudly and so often. He is called into HR and put on administrative leave. He is completely lost.
He found out through side channels, his team, made up of mostly non-veteran, reported him to HR because they felt he was pushing them too hard. After a month of administrative leave, he was let go. All HR told him he was a little too “passionate” for the job.
Albeit more on the extreme side, I tell this story as an example of the significant adjustment that occurs and how Veterans can lose their self-worth, even when trying to do their best.
On the less extreme end, I too, did the 6 month flop. Painting rocks, bedazzling pictures, and baking were becoming mindless. I organized half the house. Goodwill was now stocked for the next year. The kids, when I wasn’t looking, became more independent, and needed my help less….making me feel even more useless. I felt like I was drifting out to sea with a big old hole in my sail. So, I decided I was going to help Veterans. No idea what that looked like, but I was going to do it.
I met with a good friend of mine, who listened to me mostly ramble, and gave me the name of the web developer he used.
I gave him a call and he asked me two questions…1. Do you intend on making money? 2. What are your streams of revenue? I essentially couldn’t answer either of them. Making money would be nice (seriously, nice…that’s what I came up with?) and I had zero clue what my revenue streams were. He kindly told me he would hate to start down this road with me and cost me money, when I have not fully developed my idea. He was spot on.
I splatted, like a water balloon splatting on the ground.
A total mini-meltdown ensued. I’m not going to get into the weedy details, as I already wrote about it. If you are curious, check out my blog titled, Vulnerability Is Ego’s Nemesis. However, I will tell you there were a few ugly crying moments.
It wasn’t happening to just me…I saw my friends do the same perfect decline.
It’s grand.
It’s going okay.
I’m coming off the high.
I’m a little lost.
What is all this…now what do I do?
Then, over some time, something happens. After the pity party, some grieving, and coming down, we start to evolve in a direction. What felt like a splat, was just a weeble…and we began to bounce back.
The retiree starts to find their way….volunteering, part-time job, perhaps even starting their own business. Maybe none of that. Instead they start to find joy in continuing to pursue their hobbies. Perhaps a combination of both.
The separated Veteran may have adjusted to their new culture or at least accepted it for what it is. They may have found other Veterans that helped them adapt and manage their expectations, navigate the system, and just be supportive. For others, they may have decided going back to the military environment, full or part-time, works better for them.
After I had my mini breakdown, I got quiet and just listened. All I heard was, Just write. So that is what I did. I started the blog and published a weekly article on Medium. I put zero expectations on myself; I just wrote what my heart and mind directed me to write.Two years and over 100 blogs later, I’m still writing.
I realized my flop was more like a weeble wobble,the toy that never falls over.
And now, looking back over the last 2 ½ years, I can see how life has evolved.
I published a second book.
I started R.E.B.el LLC.
I was offered a podcast and took the leap.
I started advocating for Veterans on a larger level with various nonprofits.
And…I am getting ready to launch a second business, Publishing Pathfinders.
If I can wrap this blog of thoughts and anecdotes up very succinctly, the 6 month flop is simply the grieving process. In reality, there is nothing simple about it, as it is an individual journey. Some will process through it relatively quickly, while others may take years or longer.
And it is all okay.
If you are retiring or separating, expect to hit the 6 month flop. Yours may be immediate or delayed, but you will hit it at some point. It may last a few weeks, a few months, or longer. Remind yourself it is a normal process, but the goal is to avoid getting stuck in any part of it. Find your place of value, whether that be with family, volunteering, a healthy work environment, or a combination; and if you are struggling, reach out. There are so many people willing to help; they just need to know where they are needed.
Remember, flop like a weeble wobble, not a water balloon. You got this.
