You Left the Military, You're Doing the Job, Now What?

Thoughts on what might be "part two" of military transition. Finding satisfaction post-service and our fight to prolong happiness.

Thinking back to my first-year post-military, there's irony in how straightforward and calm the time was. I recall having clarity, partaking in new experiences, and the pleasure that came with doing what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it.

I found a job that required my energy and focus and although I made only 10% more money than I did in the Navy, I believed I had the opportunity to make 10x more.

We moved to Colorado, and I skied a dozen times that winter. I said "yes" when friends invited me to their weddings, and spent a lot of time with our 1-year old daughter.

With each year that followed, I began to scrutinize my path more frequently. I spent a lot of time ruminating and contemplating purpose, questioning satisfaction and whether or not I was happy.

Until recently, I thought the shift, or at least the magnitude of it all was unique to me, something I was experiencing because of who I am. However, the more I talk with Vets, 2-3 years post-separation, the more I recognize a pattern.

Perhaps a “Part Two” of separation, we all face.

Admittedly, this "I served, I separated, I have a career on the other side, now what?" problem, it often feels as if I have more to learn than advice to give; however, having thought on in for a few years, I'm able to bring forward a couple ideas that seem to move us in a positive direction.

You’re Over-Indexed on Work 

In the years that follow a military career, it's possible you’re not only giving too much to your civilian job, but also asking too much of it.

Arthur Brooks is just one person, but he is a social scientist, teaches a course at Harvard called "Leadership and Happiness," and authored titles like "The Art and Science of Getting Happier." 

He notes that despite our constant pursuit of happiness, many are unable to define what it is. That much of what we describe as happiness is really just evidence that happiness has occurred. The way my child looks at me or the smell of a campfire.  

Brooks argues, for happiness to take place, three things must be abundant and balanced: Satisfaction, Enjoyment, Meaning + Purpose.

Going further he explains how this is justification for how people often live a life of incredible accomplishment or have all the sex, drugs, and rock & roll and still claim to be very unhappy.

For Vets, it's within reason to argue that our military experience provided satisfaction, enjoyment, purpose + meaning. Likely never in balance, and certainly, it came with pain and discomfort; however, at different points along the way, we experienced all three.

As civilians, I think most of us if asked would say that expecting a civilian job to provide all three is ridiculous. Our conscious minds seem to be aware of that. However, we still seem to become frustrated, bored, and unhappy with jobs that provide only two out of the three, or in some cases, extreme levels of one and near zero of the others.

Awareness of this, and the way you respond is critical.

When someone feels their role lacks 'purpose,' all too often our tendency is to look for more from another category, pursue more 'satisfaction,' bury ourselves in our work, get closer to a promotion or close another deal.

Perhaps we double down on enjoyment, live for the weekend, adapting that "it pays the bills and lets me do what I want to do outside of work" mindset.

To experience all three in balance and abundance, you’ll almost always be required to pull from other areas of life, and that's a good thing.

It makes us resilient and detaches our identity from the job that we do, which leads me to the next idea.

You’re Not Able to Articulate Who You Are Without Naming Your Job or What You Did in the Military.   

It took me some time to realize, while Vets are coming and going from Iraq, Afghanistan and a thousand other places, our civilian peers spend their twenties and thirties figuring out who they are. Working out what they like to do and how they like to work. What brings them joy, and what purpose they want to serve.

Forming an identify for themselves.

As service members, our identities are largely formed by external factors. That's what it means to serve. We minimize self to become part of something bigger. We submit self to a greater purpose, collectively.

If you've not read my interview with Judson Kauffman, I highly recommend it. At some point in our conversation, he told me:

"I thought I had courage when I was a SEAL because I would run through gunfire if I had to, that's bravery. Bravery is mostly external, and courage is mostly internal. Courage is looking inside yourself and admitting what's in there and choosing to embrace it. Moreover, sharing that with the world. I'd say most of us are afraid to do that.

I started this journey of self-awareness, and that led to me discovering a new sense of purpose. What happened when I was this CEO executive business guy, was my sense of purpose disappeared, it was still with the SEAL teams, it was the mission of the U.S. military, it wasn't attached to me as an individual." -Jud Kauffman. 

As I mentioned, that first year post-separation goes pretty fast; we face many changes and push hard for financial stability. 

With new careers it’s easy to lose sight of the work that must be done.

What makes you “you” without sounding like a LinkedIn bio; your "passion for solving customer problems," or the fact that you were a pilot.

These questions are complex and take time to answer.

The benefit however, is not only its impact on long-term happiness; it also provides clarity around what we want to do with the rest of our working years. How much money do we need to make, and what our priorities are.

In closing, I created this Substack largely for the purpose of what this article is focused on. There seems to be abundant resources dedicated to helping service members get from six months pre-transition to around six months post-transition, but not nearly as many focused on the years that follow. 

Time where we know pain exists in our community. 

Lean on eachother, treat yourself with grace, do the hard things.