My husband just returned from his fourth rotation of reserve duty, and I'm finally ready to admit what I've been afraid to say out loud: This war is breaking us apart.
We recently returned from a vacation - a desperate attempt on my part to reconnect, to "steal" some quality time together. I thought distance from the conflict might help bring him back to us. I was wrong.
Even thousands of miles away, his mind remained in his battalion. The endless chain-smoking, the constant checking of news and messages from his unit, the visible weight of anxiety on his shoulders - all signs that while his body was with us, his heart remained with his soldiers.
Every interaction seems to end in shouting now. Nothing I do is good enough. The man who once filled our home with warmth and laughter now fills it with criticism and tension.
I see his struggle, but it's becoming harder to empathize when each conversation turns into a battlefield of its own. When he got an update from his unit during our vacation, he wanted us all to return immediately. I refused to cut our safe haven short, to drag our children back into the reality of war. Even that became another source of conflict between us.
I'm becoming accustomed to his absence. When he's away, our home settles into a different rhythm - quieter, calmer, though tinged with worry and longing. Yes, fear and grief hover in the corners of our rooms, but there's also peace in the solitude. No criticism, no tension, no walking on eggshells.
He says "I missed you" when he returns, and I find myself mumbling vague responses. The truth is, I'm tired. Tired of being a soldier's wife, tired of the constant cycle of homecoming and departure, tired of watching him struggle to bridge the gap between his two worlds. The distance between us grows with each rotation, and I'm running out of strength to try to close it.
This isn't the life I signed up for. I didn't agree to marry the military, to share my husband with a war that seems to be reshaping him into someone I barely recognize. When he's home, I feel more alone than when he's gone. At least in his absence, I don't have to pretend everything is normal.
I know this admission makes me sound selfish. While others are sacrificing everything for our country, here I am, complaining about my marriage. But this is also the reality of war - the slow, quiet crumbling of families, the invisible casualties of prolonged conflict. Sometimes I wonder how many other military spouses are sitting in quiet rooms, harboring these same thoughts, too afraid to speak them aloud.
I don't know how to tell him that I'm not sure I can do this anymore. That maybe I'm not cut out to be a reservist's wife. That as much as I love him, I'm starting to prefer the peace of being alone to the chaos of his returns. This war isn't just taking its toll on the frontlines - it's fighting its way right through our front door, and I'm not sure our marriage will survive it.
