The Center of My Universe....the Military ID Card & being "just a spouse"

Shortly after arriving, we had a house, our junk was delivered (with things missing), and we set out to become legit.  Or, at least, I did.  My engineer was already legit.  He had that funky piece of plastic with his name and a bad photo on it.  I, on the other hand, had yet to receive mine.  I am talking about the all too important Military Id card.

Before becoming entangled with the military, I had always thought that my driver's license and social security card were the two most important "cards" a person could have.  But, OH NO!!  The military just HAD to throw in that little, thin, plastic card whose absence is enough to cause anyone to go into cardiac arrest. Two days after arriving at The Great White North, I had to go in and get mine. I remember looking through my clothes, choosing something pretty, doing my hair and makeup...like any of that really mattered.  I still ended up with an awful photo.  It was that grainy brown color that makes everyone look either manic or sleep deprived.  In the future, I would continue to collect horrid pictures for my military id.  Jetlagged after 28 hour flight plus an infant...check.  Juggling a 5 year old and newborn...check.  Another jetlag after a 29 hour flight...check.  I think you get the picture.  Over the years, I have had some doozies.  I guess God thought I had an issue with pride or vanity, because He made sure that I had something really humiliating to show every store clerk, gate guard, medical personnel, librarian, veterinarian, passport official, flight attendant, bank employee, random military person who just HAD to see it.  In the military, you can't do anything without it.

I remember when I went in for that very first picture.  I knew that I would have it for 4 years until my engineer promoted to Captain.  I stood, smiled, and the camera must have had a delay because I had a serious grimace on my face.  I will never forget how the airman looked at me, smiled, and said, "there you are!!!"  and shuffled me aside.  I was stuck!!  It wasn't until later that I would find out that I could have asked for a re-shoot. But by that time, it was too late.  I had already gotten used to showing everyone that horrible picture and had come to terms with it.  Military Id + Laura = Picture from Hell.

With that ID came the knowledge that, to the Military, I was "spouse."  I wouldn't learn until later that there was actually a number that tells exactly what kind of spouse I am...but that is a whole story on its own, which shall wait for another day.  I had never thought of myself as "spouse."  It wasn't until after I had really looked at my ID for a bit that it dawned on me that I truly was "just a spouse" to them!  The full scope of what that meant wouldn't really sink in until years later.  At that point, as a young woman, there seemed something off about the whole picture.  I had never been "just" anything.

My engineer would lovingly tell me that I wasn't "just a spouse," that I was HIS spouse.  But the crux of the matter was that I felt trivialized.  There was a distinct feeling that it didn't matter what I may have wanted or thought, that, ultimately, the USAF could & would override it. Through the coming years I would discover that there were many things that I could not do without my engineer's signature, including getting a birth certificate for my own newborn son when he was deployed to The Sand Box (despite having a detailed Power of Attorney) and receiving our household goods shipment.  Talk about making a girl feel completely devoid of authority.

I would spend years FIGHTING that feeling.  No one wants to be put in such a seemingly powerless position.  We are raised in a society where everyone demands to be treated equally.  All those years ago, I found myself in a place where I wasn't equal.  I was a "dependent," a "spouse," a liability. I would hear friends say, "I am just the 'spouse'" or, "Gotta get the Sponsor to take care of that."  There was a little comfort in knowing that I wasn't the only one to feel that way.  However, it would take a couple years until I would know other women who felt comfortable being so candid about their feelings.  Most of these women had come to a point of understanding the unadulterated power that came with being "just a spouse."  These amazing women, with years of "spousehood" under their belts, had learned how to turn the tables.  But I didn't know any of these women as I looked down at my title, "spouse."

As an "older" spouse, that is, one who is on the downhill slope, I see everything that my younger self did not...and I pity her.  However, I know that there is nothing anyone could have told her that would have made her mental and emotional gymnastics any easier.  She had to make mistakes and watch others fall.  Luckily, she had the where with all to know wise women when she encountered them.  I remember the wonder with which I would watch and observe these gracious women.  I watched as they steered clear of gossip and slander, yet always being gracious and inviting to all who crossed their paths.  As I "grew up" in my role as a USAF spouse, I would learn that life gets harder...but outlook has everything to do with weathering the storms.  My poor engineer.  I did not weather those early storms well at all.

So, there I was, metaphorically snot-nosed and wet behind the ears, prickling at a young woman's impression of "spouse" on that Military ID.  That silly creature had no clue as to the power and strength that she would later have...all because she was "just a spouse."