A letter to the Military wife and mama living with chronic pain…

I have a secret identity, a part of me that I seldom speak of and few in the world know of because I have come to mask it so well: I live with chronic pain.

I know I'm not the only military wife or mama living with this condition and if you are one of the many who do; my hat goes off and my heart goes out to you. I know how brave you've had to be: so much braver than anyone will ever know. 

I want to validate your journey. I have an idea of just how weary you are and just how hard you fight to support your soldier, sailor or aviator - because I am one of you too. 

I'm in the trenches with you - so I know that there are no good days and bad days; just intolerably hard ones and less hard ones. 

I know that while other military spouses dream of having a break from taking care of little people - you and I dream of getting a break from ourselves; escaping the limitations of our own bodies for a little while. 

I know the pain of showing up and being present for little people day after day when our handful of hours of sleep were more torture than rest. We trudge through the hard days on a night's sleep that was anything but healing. Using every ounce of the little strength we have to be present and patient with our children (as much as is possible anyway), wanting to give them as conventional a childhood as possible. 

I know the hardship of managing a home, a family and the future with an absent spouse and a body that is weary far beyond its years. Our partner comes and goes just frequently enough that we never experience recovery; forever either fueled by adrenaline or crashing into burnout. 

All the complex emotions (anxiety, stress, fear) which are easily managed by other military spouses with the help of friendships, therapy or self-care send us into fresh waves of all-consuming pain.

It's a continuous cycle, a feed-back loop, the ride which never ends.      

We are the homefront warriors; we show up to the fight again and again, bruised and bloodied from the battle, but ready to keep standing. You are amazing.