A therapist with deep ties to the military community, Dr. Emma Smith writes a monthly advice column for Military.com to address questions from our readers. This month, she answers a message from a military spouse who is feeling burned out. Want Dr. Emma to answer your question next month? Submit it using the form at the end of the article.
Dear Dr. Emma,
Lately, I’ve been feeling listlessness and exhaustion I can’t quite explain. It’s more than just being tired from parenting or the demands of military life. It’s constant heaviness, but also life just kind of keeps going?
I don’t watch the news. I’m barely on social media anymore (although that’s tough, considering my family and friends live all over the place).
I feel like I’m unraveling slowly, and when I tell others I’m struggling, they tell me to be grateful -- I have healthy kids, a supportive partner, a roof over my head. I get that, but also, I feel trapped in a life that’s full of responsibility. Nothing makes me feel happy anymore.
Is there a name for this? Depression? Burnout?
How do I keep showing up for my family when I feel so … disconnected from everything?
Signed,
Tired of Being Resilient
Dear Tired of Being Resilient,
What an apt name you’ve chosen -- and a relatable one. Your sign-off left me thinking, “Oof, I feel that.” I suspect many others will feel that same resonance. Your letter so poignantly captures that military family life requires more than just strength and agility; it also demands endurance. Repeated endurance.
You mentioned that when you reach out to others for support, you are told to be grateful for what you have. For what it’s worth, you don’t sound ungrateful -- or broken, for that matter. You’re simply being honest about the mismatch between how life looks and how it feels.
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I’m sorry the people you’ve reached out to have directed you toward gratitude without first acknowledging your challenges and the diminished buoyancy you’re feeling. When we share our pain, people often reach for gratitude as a balm.
But gratitude applied too soon rarely heals our pain, and more often simply teaches us to silence it.
I learned this firsthand when my partner and I were stationed in a place with very few other military families. For the first time in my adult life, most of my friends were civilians with no military connection. As our time at that assignment drew close, my closest local friend -- a co-worker turned running buddy -- asked me during one of our evening training runs:
“So what now?”
I explained the orders and permanent change-of-station (PCS) process to her as we jogged along.
“Three years?!” she nearly shrieked. “Then what?”
“Well, we repeat the process.”
“Every time?! Emma, that’s insane. You know that, right? Your life is -- I couldn’t do that. I would lose my mind.”
“I mean, same,” I laughed. “But it doesn’t feel as awful when everyone else around you is doing the same thing. It becomes … normal.”
She shot me an incredulous look that let me know she remained unconvinced.
That conversation shifted something in me. It reminded me of the power of having someone mirror back just how impossible military life can feel. Just hearing my friend’s unfiltered response about the tough parts of my life was deeply affirming. It was validating to hear that the uncertainty, constant changes and strain were unfathomable to someone else. I hope it can offer you similar comfort.
In time, I found the most sustaining support from within the military came from other spouses a step or two ahead of me. Whereas my peers were all trying to prove we could handle it, these seasoned spouses carried the wisdom of what this life costs, and they offered it generously through programs like Marine Corps Family Team Building (MCFTB). The Army, Navy, Air Force, Space Force and Coast Guard have similar programs.
Additionally, your observation of feeling the weight of responsibility without the reward of having a life that fills your cup is essential. You asked whether it could be burnout, and while that could be part of the issue, there seems to be something more existential to it than that. In existential therapy, there is a term for this kind of languishing called the existential vacuum. It’s a space where old meanings no longer nourish us and new meanings have yet to be discovered or take root.
Sometimes unraveling is not a sign of failure, but an opening to make space for something more profound that’s asking to be knit. The old way isn’t working anymore, and it’s time to create something new. You’re not weak. You’re experiencing the cost of relentless expectation that hasn’t been given space to rest. There is a material difference between those two things.
You mention stepping away from the news and social media and feeling disconnected from everything. You used the term disconnected rather than isolated, and the distinction matters. When we isolate, we cut ourselves off from others. Disconnection isn’t isolation. It’s not cutting off, but pulling back, floating, waiting and conserving until you find what can carry you forward again: perspectives, people and/or activities that bring you fullness. It’s grounded with intentionality. The float is about being with that sense of disconnection rather than escaping from it.
Start making space for being with that disconnection by trying to find one place where you can be completely unedited. Being unedited means letting go of expectation. Some people do this through therapy, voice memos or letters that never get sent. Others find their body is a portal toward discovery. Reclaim sensation by walking barefoot in grass, drinking something warm slowly, staring at a tree and feeling yourself breathe. The part of you who knows what she needs won’t speak until you clear some space to listen. Notice the difference between how you feel in those moments and how you feel now. Do more of what works and less of what doesn’t.
The truth is, Tired, that resilience is neither a constant state, nor is it a performance of wellness to someone else’s expectation. It ebbs and flows. You’re allowed to ebb. You’re allowed to question the shape and pace of your days. You’re allowed to disconnect yourself from what isn’t working to create new ways to flow.
Off the Clock, but Always in Your Corner,
Dr. Emma
The content shared in this column is for informational and educational purposes only. It does not constitute clinical advice or create a therapist-client relationship. If you are in need of mental health support, please reach out to a licensed professional in your area.Ask Dr. Emma Your Question
Every month, Dr. Emma will answer questions from the Military.com community. And she wants to answer yours! From romantic frustrations to family bonding, anxieties over current events to homecoming excitement, she wants to hear from you. Submit your question, and we may choose it for anonymous publication along with Dr. Emma's response. Your personal information will not be shared, and your responses will be used only for editorial purposes.
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