Steph sat across from me, nervously twisting a tissue in her hands. “Ms. Veteran Affairs,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “the therapist at the military clinic said you might be able to help. I don’t know what else to do.”

Her words were laced with exhaustion and uncertainty. I leaned forward, giving her my full attention. “I’m here to listen, Steph. What’s on your mind?”

She sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping. “Tom’s transition has been harder than I ever imagined. He’s restless, frustrated, and feels so…lost. And honestly? I’m not doing much better. It’s like we’re both drowning, and I’m afraid I can’t hold us together anymore.”

Her honesty hit me hard. I’d been there before—trying to stay afloat while Joe, my husband, wrestled with his own transition from military life. I knew all too well the toll it took on both the service member and their spouse.

A Team Approach

“Steph, I know it feels overwhelming right now,” I said softly. “But you’re not alone in this. Believe me, I’ve been where you are, and I promise, there’s a way through.”

She looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. “How did you manage? How do you even begin to figure this all out?”

I leaned back, recalling those early, chaotic days of Joe’s transition. “It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure. Joe struggled with losing the structure and sense of purpose that the military gave him. And I—well, I felt like I had to pick up all the pieces. But you know what helped the most? Realizing that we were a team. This transition isn’t just Tom’s journey; it’s yours too. And the only way to get through it is together.”

Steph nodded slowly, but I could see the doubt lingering in her expression. “But what does that even look like? Together? Most days, it feels like we’re just surviving.”

Open Communication is Key

“Steph, let me ask you something,” I said. “When’s the last time you and Tom sat down and talked about how you’re both feeling? Not just the logistics of what’s next, but the emotions—the fears, the frustrations, the hopes?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “We don’t. He keeps everything bottled up, and I…I don’t want to add to his stress.”

I smiled gently. “I get that. But here’s the thing: avoiding those conversations doesn’t make the stress go away—it just builds up until it feels unbearable. Start small. Share how you’re feeling, and encourage him to do the same. It’s not about fixing everything overnight; it’s about opening the door to understanding.”

Steph exhaled, as if releasing a breath she’d been holding for weeks. “I think I can try that. But what about me? I feel like I’m losing myself in all of this.”

The Importance of Self-Care

I reached across the table, placing a hand on hers. “That’s just as important, Steph. Taking care of yourself isn’t selfish—it’s necessary. I learned that the hard way. When I was so focused on helping Joe, I forgot to take care of my own mental and emotional health. It wasn’t until I started setting boundaries and making time for my own goals that I felt like I could truly support him.”

Her brow furrowed. “Boundaries? What does that mean in this context?”

Setting Boundaries

“Boundaries are about respecting your limits while still being supportive,” I explained. “For example, if Tom is having a rough day and it’s affecting the whole family, it’s okay to step back and say, ‘I need a moment to regroup.’ It’s not about shutting him out—it’s about ensuring you have the energy to be there for him in the long run.”

Steph’s posture shifted slightly, her shoulders relaxing. “That makes sense. I guess I’ve been running on empty for so long, I forgot it’s okay to refuel.”

Progress is Progress

We spent the next hour talking about practical ways to navigate the transition—how to balance emotional support with independence, how to set goals as a couple, and how to find small victories in the chaos. Steph shared how Tom had recently attended a virtual job fair but left feeling discouraged.

“That’s progress, Steph,” I said firmly. “Even if it didn’t go perfectly, he took a step forward. And that’s what matters—one step at a time.”

By the time she left, Steph’s expression had softened, a flicker of hope shining in her eyes. Before she walked out the door, I handed her a notebook.

“Write down what you and Tom want for your future—both as individuals and as a family,” I said. “It’s a way to remind yourselves that this transition isn’t just an ending; it’s the beginning of a new chapter. And remember: you’re not in this alone.”

Ms. Veteran Affairs' Tips for Steph

Before Steph left, I shared a few key pieces of advice I’ve learned over the years to make the transition smoother for both her and Tom.

Checklist for Steph and Tom’s Transition

Here’s a quick checklist to help you both stay on track during this journey:

As Steph walked away, I thought about how hard this journey can be—not just for veterans, but for their families. Transitioning to civilian life is messy and emotional, but it’s also an opportunity to grow stronger together.

With patience, communication, and self-care, Steph and Tom could turn this challenge into a foundation for something beautiful. Because no matter how daunting the road ahead might seem, we endure—together.

Discussion Questions: