A few years ago, I had an epiphany about this military life. We had just moved and I was taking a break from the real-life game of Tetris that happens as old things need to find a place in a new home. I was playing on the floor of our new home, in our new city, with the only human I knew, my toddler.
We were building a tower with blocks and then, gleefully and without notice he squealed and knocked it down (as toddlers do). I smiled and we worked together to make a new tower. This one was different of course, but still nice. And then, before we could finish it…he knocked it down…again.
We silently started rebuilding again, piece by piece, and I found myself leaving out much of the details that I put into the first few builds - there were no extra “pretty” things: no matching colours, no turrets, no playground for our Little People to play on. And then, even though I knew it was coming, I startled, when it toppled.
I found myself getting angry as I aggressively stacked the blocks for the last time. I reminded my little guy how hard I had worked on that tower. But there is no rationalizing with a 2 year-old; he kicked it over again. I stared at the pile of blocks on the floor and I started to cry.
With my heart pounding irrationally, I ended that game and that’s when I made the connection: I build my life like I build these blocks.
I build a life with each move and one block at a time: a new house, new school, new job, new doctors and dentists and vets and groomers and stylists and estheticians. New sports teams, hobbies, friendships, favourite restaurants, new paint in the bathroom because it’s ugly. We buy and hem new curtains to make it feel like home, we plant a garden, we “date” potential new friends. I do all of these things knowing that inevitably, it will all get knocked down, and sometimes without much warning at all.
I find myself approaching my new build in the same thinking as I had playing with blocks. I don’t have the energy to do this again. Why put in the extra effort? “It’s only a couple of years”; “why bother?”. I don’t want to paint another room, or hem more curtains. I’m not going to plant more flowers that I’ll never see bloom. I’m definitely NOT going to meet new people because I don’t have the energy to be friendly to strangers who are potential friends. Besides, I already have great friends…they just all live in different cities. This time, I’m only going to build the essentials: school, doctors, job. Nothing more.
But here’s the thing: Our lives are so much more than the jobs we have, the schools our kids go to, and the endless personal administration that we do in this military life. The beauty of our lives is found in the “extra” pretty blocks - the friendships made that have become a lifelong gift. The memories of that beautiful yard and garden that grew so many tomatoes one year you gave them to all your neighbours. The posting tradition of hemming your curtains too short. Every. Single. Time. The contentment that comes the you turn that new house into a place that feels like “home”.
Posting messages can topple the life you’ve built. I can’t offer any advice on how to make that less frustrating. I still get angry with each move. But it’s taken me time to see that my anger isn’t just anger alone, it’s actually grief. While yes, I am angry that I need to start over, I’m also grieving what I’m being asked to let go of…again. The beautiful life that I have curated in this place: the people, the job, the home, the memories, and the garden.
So, take your time my friend. Be gentle with yourself. Know that the life you build in your next place will not be the same, but try to resist the urge to only build the essential blocks when you land. Because the things that you’re grieving right now, ARE the pretty blocks in life.
Good luck with your next build friends, make it pretty.
💗