Friendship After Military Service: Opening My Heart and Being Vulnerable — A Military Wife’s Journey to Finding Deeper Relationships

I had finally felt I was “caught up” with all of my cleaning and decided to tackle the stack of magazines and library books that have been glaring at me from the corner of the room for weeks…ok some of them months. Little did I know the words on those pages would feel as if they were written JUST FOR ME!

If you’ve read my recent posts, you’ll know that I’ve been in a season of rediscovery and trying to find contentment after my husband’s military retirement. Our last duty station was Pearl Harbor, Hawaii where we lived for 7 years. We raised our kids there until moving to Nebraska recently which has been quite an adjustment for all of us.

If you haven’t read these posts, you can here:

Rediscovering Purpose and Connection Post Military with Teen Kids

How a Horse in Nebraska Taught me to Find Contentment

I’ve found it harder to make friends now that we are back “home” in Nebraska than any other duty station we’ve been in. It’s been a humbling experience I’ll tell you what! I’ve always found friends easily. I’ve kept busy, joined groups where I was around like-minded people. I felt I’ve done all of the things but still feel empty.

After reflecting on what was written in the magazines I dusted off, I realized, God doesn’t want surface level friendships for me anymore. He wants MORE!

For the past 18 years—or maybe even longer—I’ve been guarding my heart, holding back from the kind of deep, lasting connections I’ve always craved. And yet, I’m lucky to have a few friendships that have endured time and distance, women who feel like family to me. I love them fiercely. But life has a way of getting in the way. Distance makes it hard to sit down together, to have those face-to-face conversations that nurture a soul.

Those friendships weren’t always stretched across miles. They began by the beach or at the pool, watching our kids swim while we talked—sometimes about everyday things, and sometimes about the deepest parts of ourselves. Those moments shaped me. But the military life we lived meant people moved, families relocated, and best friends got stationed elsewhere. Each goodbye left a little ache in my heart, a reminder that letting people in could lead to pain.

Over time, I learned to protect myself. I began to settle for surface-level friendships—wonderful people, wonderful connections—but I held back from letting anyone truly close. It hurt too much to risk heartbreak again. And so, I guarded my heart, keeping myself from the kind of deep, soul-nourishing relationships I’ve always wanted.

And, the kicker? I knew I was doing it. I KNEW I was the only one standing in the way of developing these deep connections that I KNOW I need. But, the risk is just so hard to give in to.

I’m slowly letting go of some of those fears. I’m slowly opening myself up. I’m slowly becoming willing to risk the heart break for what I NOW REALIZE GOD WANTS FOR ME. Deep friendships, the type of friendships I can lean on and depend on to tell me when I’m wondering from the path I’m on. And not just that, but friends that can count on ME to be the same for them. It’s a type of vulnerability that only the truest of friends have. I’ve joked with a friend in the past, they are the type of friend that can come over unannounced and be totally ok with me being in my pj’s at noon and will ignore the dishes in the sink. The friends that are there to see ME-the REAL ME! And, they still like ME. ha

I miss that.

I didn’t fully realize it until I started writing this, but I remember early in my relationship with my husband, he mentioned he didn’t have a lot of friends because it hurt too much. Growing up as a military kid, he’d experienced the same kind of loss and distance I’m feeling now—his whole life shaped by goodbyes and moves. At the time, I couldn’t relate at all. I’d lived in the same small town my entire life. I remember thinking, Wow, get over it. You’re really missing out. But now, here I am, doing the exact same thing—guarding my heart, holding back, and protecting myself from the pain of losing people I care about.

And yet, writing this has given me a spark of hope. I’m learning that it’s okay to be vulnerable, to take the risk of deeper connection, even if it scares me. Life is too short to let fear keep us from the friendships and love we need. Maybe the next hello won’t end in goodbye—or maybe it will—but either way, it’s worth opening my heart again.

With Love and Aloha,

Lacy

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