What I wish people knew, and what your friend walking through a deployment might need.

It’s been almost a year (355 days, if we’d like to be precise) since I’ve seen him outside of my phone screen. And at times, even those moments were few and far between. I’m so excited (and can’t believe) that we’re almost done!

This year hasn’t been the easiest in many ways, but one of the biggest things has been walking through a year-long deployment for the first time. Both of us are new to this!

As I’ve documented each month’s milestone on my instagram stories, I made mention in one of them that there are things I’ve been processing and have been trying to find the most appropriate words to communicate them. And as we near the end of this season, the hard parts sting a little less, and I feel like I have more of the words to say. And as a good rule of thumb, it’s kind of a good idea to not post on social media when emotions are high, yaknow? ;)

There are just some things I wish people knew. For someone going through this, there are certain things to avoid saying.

With that said, I want to be clear of my intentions. I don’t want to come at anyone’s throat. My desire isn’t to be harsh. My aim is to be gracious. I just want to share some of the process vulnerably. I’ve regularly done that on social media (and here) over the years, and I’m not sure why I’ve seen this as any different. It might be because the atmosphere of online spaces has changed - there’s always some level of worry of saying the wrong thing.

Another caveat is that I know this isn’t unique to me. And it’s not even unique to a deployment scenario. For anyone going through a difficult time, there’s inevitably a slew of unhelpful things people can say. For example, I’ve talked about this for years in the area of singleness and the comments said toward single people that simply aren’t helpful (that’s another convo). The same is true for someone dealing with sickness, a loss, infertility, etc.
And more often than not, unhelpful comments come from people who are well meaning. I’m very aware that almost 100% of the time, people either have no idea what to say, or they’re innocently ignorant simply because they don’t know. I understand — it’s really hard to know how to respond to someone who has any level of grief.

There’s one unhelpful comment in particular that I want to respond to:

Deployment is not the same as a long-distance relationship.

When someone finds out that Jonathan is deployed, or after I’ve shared something about how tough it’s been, I’ve received the “Oh yeah, I’ve done long distance too.”

And again, this has never been said to me in a dismissive way, or with a tone that communicates that I should get over it. It always comes across in a caring attempt to relate. A way to say, “me too. I get it.” But it’s not the same. Yet it feels rude in that moment for me to say, “Ehhh no, you don’t get it, actually.”

I completely understand why the comparison is made. It doesn’t take much to conclude that, yes, the military person is at a distance. Gone is gone, and that’s always hard. Even a standard long distance relationship will have its difficulties (I’ve experienced them in the past).

I want to shed some light on why it’s not the same:

— In a typical LDR, you can visit each other. Yes, it’s inconvenient oftentimes, and you would do anything to have that person in your space and easily accessible. That’s not an option for us. (I know this depends on where the person is deployed, because you can also be on a deployment within the U.S., but even then, you’re probably not seeing that person.) In this year-long circumstance, Jonathan will not be coming home. I will not be going where he is. Even if an LDR happens in different parts of the world, there is still the option to visit each other.

— While LDRs are challenging, there is the benefit of them providing the opportunity to really strengthen communication skills. That’s undeniable! When communication is all you have, it makes sense that the extent of your emotional depth is expedited compared to other couples. But very often, we could go weeks without video chatting. Some days were one simple text back and forth. Yes, communication is all we have, but sometimes even that’s not an option.

— I can’t speak for all LDRs, but I feel pretty confident in saying that in most cases, neither person’s life is in danger. I think that’s one of the biggest things that makes the comment sting a bit more. The deployed service member may be in a location where their life is at risk. If the person back home doesn’t hear from them for days, does that mean something terrible has happened? In some areas, there’s always that chance. And again, I can’t speak for all deployments either. Some service members go to very safe places. But I can tell you that this wasn’t the case for Jonathan. When the person you love is exposed to regular enemy attacks, the comparison to a long distance relationship really falls flat.

Now, I’m not going to leave you high and dry here. My other desire is to help others come alongside military spouses/SOs and/or families in a way that is helpful. Because this is hard.

There are many things that ARE helpful to say to someone in my situation:

“How are you doing?”
I understand that sometimes this may not seem like it’s adequate enough, but it is. Even if I’m not doing well on a particular day, the question makes me feel seen in a situation that has felt really isolating because I don’t know anyone else facing it for the first time, and while engaged!

“How is Jonathan doing?” / “I/we have been praying for him/you both".”
I can’t tell you how much it warms my heart. Though I may feel unseen, I’m carrying on with life in my regular circles of people, literally being seen by them. When someone asks about my person who is quite literally very unseen, it reminds me that he’s being thought of by others, too. Obviously I’m thinking about him every day, but it means the world to know that others want to know about him too. And again, even if he’s not doing well (which he wasn’t at various points), I got to share that with people and ask them to pray.

“Did you get to talk to him this week?”
A simple check-in like this is helpful! Maybe I did, and I can tell you about it. Maybe I haven’t talked to him for a while and it’s been really challenging, and this question allows me to vent or process. I’ve had people tell me that sometimes they don’t know what to say. They don’t want to bring him up out of fear that it will make me miss him more or make me more sad. Don’t worry about that! I’m going to be missing him regardless of what you do or don’t say

“Only X amount of months until he’s back!”
I have so loved feeling spurred on by people reminding me of different check points. While I’m the one facing the months of loneliness and challenge, it gives me an extra boost to be reminded that other people are aware of the timeline, are in our corner, and are cheering us on as we await the finish line!

“You’re doing a great job.”
Obvious reasons. Sometimes I feel like I’m not. Also, this is a much helpful comment than “I could never do that.” The sentiment may be the same, but honestly, there’s nothing powerful about me that makes me exceptional or built for this. I am being built as it goes on. You just do it. So to have someone acknowledge the difficulty and give a simple encouragement means a ton!

I’ve tried to keep these comments fairly general, but also know that things are different for each person. But it will never hurt to simply ask them what kind of questions or comments would be encouraging!

Thanks for reading my words. Ones that have been on my heart for a while. There’s grace for the unhelpful comments. And there’s grace for the one walking through a deployment. God’s grace is sufficient for all of it!

ps — stay tuned for a very joyful homecoming, sooner than you think. :) :)