White House Deputy Press Secretary Anna Kelly recently expressed on Business Insider that, “President Trump has consistently stood up for our military families — delivering crucial reforms that improved VA healthcare, decreased veteran homelessness, and enhanced education benefits. His efforts to cut wasteful spending and make agencies more efficient will ensure our government can better serve all Americans, especially our veterans and their loved ones.”
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As my 25 years of dedicated government service draw to a close, I find myself navigating a complex emotional landscape. This transition isn’t initiated by my own volition, but rather a decision shaped by circumstances—specifically, my husband’s upcoming job relocation to Hawaii due to his commitments in the Navy. While I have opted for the Deferred Retirement Option Program (DRP) Voluntary Early Retirement Authority (VERA), it feels less like a choice and more like a necessity.
On one hand, there’s a profound sense of peace that washes over me. Yet, juxtaposed against that is a wave of resentment and frustration, a feeling of being cornered by policies I don’t fully support. It’s as if the landscape of bureaucracy has left me little room to maneuver. “Why must I bring this chapter to a close now?” I often ponder. After all, it’s been my life’s work, my identity, and during a period that should be infused with promise, I’m wrestling with uncertainty.
I share the vision of many in advocating for a streamlined government. Indeed, there are ample aspects ripe for reassessment and reduction. However, when I cast my vote for Trump in November, I anticipated a degree of organization and empathy—qualities I have yet to witness in action. As I sit here contemplating my circumstances, a heavy sadness envelops me, making me question the decisions I made at the ballot box.
Doesn’t Feel Like Support to Me
My journey is hardly unique. With a father who served 23 years in the Navy, two marriages to Navy personnel, and my own tenure with the Department of Defense since my twenties, I’ve become well-acquainted with the military lifestyle. Yet, even with this experience, job hunting amidst transitions has never been a walk in the park.
In the past, securing a new position, whether during moves with my ex-partner or my current husband, presented its own challenges. The application process can feel never-ending, and the anticipation of an optimal opening can be exasperating. Yet, I always found solace in federal employment—a rare bastion of stability in an existence characterized by change.
Unfortunately, this time around, the landscape feels starkly different.
Though Trump asserts his support for military spouses, the reality of undergoing a relocation during an active hiring freeze certainly does not embody the epitome of that support. Summer—the peak season for military relocations—is upon us, yet there’s a deafening silence from HR regarding my inquiries. My heart is heavy as I try to understand how this is meant to be supportive, feeling as though my pleas for help have fallen on deaf ears.
Accommodations for military spouses working within government roles appear commendable on paper. But grappling with the weight of that hiring freeze makes it virtually impossible for me to envision stepping into a new role in Hawaii. As I look back just a few weeks, I had contemplated staying behind in Virginia to ride out the freeze. Financially, it felt like the only viable option, albeit one neither my husband nor I willingly embraced.
Finances are Simpler, but Internal Life Isn’t
The Department of Defense’s announcement regarding a second opportunity for the DRP VERA, which applies to anyone over 50 with a minimum of 20 years in service, added a layer of complexity. Assuming the request is approved, my paycheck will continue to support me through September—a glimmer of clarity amid stormy seas.
“Situational ease in finance doesn’t equate to peace of mind,” I remind myself frequently. Navigating political discussions has become a landmine; they feel too personal and charged for me at this stage. I’ve transitioned from being a committed participant in the dialogue to feeling like a bystander, unsure of where I fit.
As I grapple with my choices and reflect on the lives of other military families in similar positions, I realize how precariously these decisions hang in the balance. Life, with its myriad twists and turns, keeps pushing me toward an uncertain horizon, yet the question lingers: What would support truly look like in this new chapter for all of us?
The cacophony of mixed emotions—fear, hope, and sadness—makes me introspective. It reminds me that in times of transition, our vulnerabilities shine through, and empathy becomes our greatest ally. Often, what we need is not just a system of support, but a community willing to listen and engage.
Edited By Ali Musa
Axadle Times International–Monitoring.
