Staff Perspectives: Never Have I Ever…Been a Military Dependent
I’m a military spouse—a dependent, as we are often referred to in the military community. That word frequently comes with a sting, implying passivity, lack of contribution, and sometimes even entitlement. But my story, like many others, is much more complex than being defined by a label.
I met my spouse while I was serving on active duty, and for a brief time, we were a dual military couple. When I transitioned out of service, I stepped into a new role—one I thought I understood from years in uniform but quickly learned was far more complex.
I still remember arriving at our first duty station in my new role. Suddenly, it wasn’t my social security number I needed to rattle off at medical appointments or during moving chaos—it was his. The identity shift was subtle yet seismic.
My journey into military spouse life was slightly different because I wasn’t marrying into the unknown—I was already immersed in the military culture. I wasn’t lost in the language of acronyms, and from serving as an officer in the Adjutant General Corps, I had a solid understanding of protocol. Still, no amount of prior knowledge could genuinely prepare me for what it meant to acculturate not as a service member, but as a spouse.
Recently, while conducting the literature review for another project, I came across a 2024 article titled “‘The Culture’ Is Truly the Issue: A Preliminary Exploration of Active Duty Female Spouses’ Acculturation to Military Life” by Amy Preston Page, Abigail M. Ross, and Phyllis Solomon. It struck a chord with me, especially in highlighting the very different, yet equally essential process of military spouse adaptation. Whether you come in with combat boots on or fresh eyes and an open heart, the adjustment to this world—its norms, expectations, and unspoken rules—is real. How we adapt, resist, or reconcile with that culture shapes our experience as spouses and our sense of self.
Never Have I Ever…
Do you remember playing the game “Never Have I Ever” when you were younger, maybe in high school or college? I usually “won” back then because I lived a relatively tame life. The premise is simple: hold up five fingers, and one by one, say, “Never have I ever…” followed by something you haven’t done. As a participant, if you have done it, put a finger down. It’s fun, sometimes embarrassing, and always revealing.
But here's the thing: as we grow older, the game of life becomes more complex. Our life adventures accumulate, and for military spouses, you realize you have experienced many things that most people wouldn't believe.
So, if you’re ever playing with a mix of civilians and military families, here are a few prompts that might stump the room—or spark some serious bonding. And please, make time to hear our stories—sharing our experiences is truly special to us.
Never have I ever… listed someone I’ve known for less than 48 hours as my child’s emergency contact.
Constantly moving, a trademark of military life, means filling out school or daycare emergency contact forms before the boxes are even unpacked. Within days of arriving, you’re already asking your brand-new neighbor if they can be your person if there is an emergency with your children. It sounds wild, but it’s also a beautiful example of instant community—something many of us treasure.
A few years back, my family and I were among the first to move into a brand-new neighborhood after a base expansion. Upon arrival, we were one of three families on the block. In those first few days on the base, with two very young children going into daycare the following Monday and myself returning to work, I desperately needed at least one person’s name and number I could share with the daycare staff. After a 15-minute conversation with one of my new neighbors who lived across the street, I said, “I know this is awkward, but my girls are starting daycare on Monday. Would you be comfortable sharing your phone number with me and letting me list you as a contact?” Her gracious answer was, “Of course, and could I get yours to do the same for our girls?” That same neighbor I hesitantly asked for her phone number became one of my dearest friends. That story may sound improbable, but it’s one of the many ways military spouses adapt and thrive—even when dropped into unfamiliar environments. With nearly 80 families arriving in the same summer, it felt like building a village from scratch. We met on sidewalks, shared folding chairs in the driveway, swapped moving tips, and looked out for each other’s kids.
As one spouse commented in the article, “I not only survived but also thrived” (Page et al., 2024, p. 10). That line sums it up perfectly.
Never have I ever… had my driver’s license, car registration, and current address all from different states.
Military life turns you into a logistics expert—frequently juggling paperwork across state lines. Imagine being at a duty station for a few weeks, running low on gas, standing at the gas station pump, and realizing you can’t remember which zip code is tied to your credit card. Was it the last duty station? Have I already updated it for our new address? Or is this one still tied to that more permanent address that we sometimes use at my husband’s parent’s house? That small moment perfectly captures the “Where even are we right now?” chaos that’s so normal in this life.
When meeting someone new, we often get asked, “Where are you from?” and I usually laugh before launching into: “Well, I was born in Minnesota, my husband is from Texas, we met in South Korea, our oldest was born in Louisiana, our youngest was born in Georgia— I guess we’re really from all over…”
That’s the beauty of military life—it stitches together people from all corners of the world into one community. And with that, we build bridges between cultures, backgrounds, and beliefs.
This idea closely reflects what the article calls the “integration” strategy of acculturation—those of us who learn to navigate both military and civilian life, honoring where we came from while embracing where we are now. As one spouse reflected, “The reality is that I have become half-military... I’m not sorry or resentful. But, I am different” (Page et al., 2024, p. 10). And in many ways, we’re stronger for it.
Never have I ever… had a friend not be frustrated with me for bailing on plans at the last minute.
When one of my good friends was stationed in Germany, her husband was at a field exercise during her birthday week. She wasn’t sure if he’d make it home in time, so her friend made special birthday plans to celebrate her—knowing full well she might cancel. Although it was unlikely, my friend’s husband returned on her birthday, surprising her by getting home just in time, which often does not happen. She called her friend and apologized for needing to cancel, and instead of frustration, her friend was thrilled for her. There was no guilt, no awkwardness—just joy and understanding.
This is the kind of support that quietly lives in the background of military life. We get it. We’ve all been there. Many of us, in our own ways, have struggled with what the article calls acculturative stress—navigating unfamiliar norms, finding our people, and making peace with a life full of unpredictability (Page et al., 2024). But stories like this remind us that we aren’t doing it alone.
For those outside the military community, these stories may sound fabricated. But for us, they’re just a Thursday. They represent the resilience, flexibility, and strange beauty of a life lived in service—not just by our partners but by all of us.
And maybe that’s the biggest surprise of all. Because somewhere along the way, these weird, exhausting, often lonely moments become shared experiences. They become the things we laugh about at coffee meetups or send memes about late at night with a friend who gets it.
Military culture for spouses isn’t about fitting into a mold. It’s about building your own identity while navigating a culture that doesn’t always make space for you right away. Whether we integrate, resist, adapt, or forge our way, our experiences are valid. They matter. And they shape communities that are stronger, wiser, and deeply compassionate.
The opinions in CDP Staff Perspective blogs are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinion of the Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences or the Department of Defense.
Allison Hannah, MSW, LCSW is a Military Behavioral Health Social Worker at the Center for Deployment Psychology at the Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences in Bethesda, Maryland.
Reference:
Page, A. P., Ross, A. M., & Solomon, P. (2024). "The culture" is truly the issue: A preliminary exploration of active duty female spouses' acculturation to military life. Families in Society: The Journal of Contemporary Social Services, 1–16. https://doi.org/10.1177/10443894231211357
I’m a military spouse—a dependent, as we are often referred to in the military community. That word frequently comes with a sting, implying passivity, lack of contribution, and sometimes even entitlement. But my story, like many others, is much more complex than being defined by a label.
I met my spouse while I was serving on active duty, and for a brief time, we were a dual military couple. When I transitioned out of service, I stepped into a new role—one I thought I understood from years in uniform but quickly learned was far more complex.
I still remember arriving at our first duty station in my new role. Suddenly, it wasn’t my social security number I needed to rattle off at medical appointments or during moving chaos—it was his. The identity shift was subtle yet seismic.
My journey into military spouse life was slightly different because I wasn’t marrying into the unknown—I was already immersed in the military culture. I wasn’t lost in the language of acronyms, and from serving as an officer in the Adjutant General Corps, I had a solid understanding of protocol. Still, no amount of prior knowledge could genuinely prepare me for what it meant to acculturate not as a service member, but as a spouse.
Recently, while conducting the literature review for another project, I came across a 2024 article titled “‘The Culture’ Is Truly the Issue: A Preliminary Exploration of Active Duty Female Spouses’ Acculturation to Military Life” by Amy Preston Page, Abigail M. Ross, and Phyllis Solomon. It struck a chord with me, especially in highlighting the very different, yet equally essential process of military spouse adaptation. Whether you come in with combat boots on or fresh eyes and an open heart, the adjustment to this world—its norms, expectations, and unspoken rules—is real. How we adapt, resist, or reconcile with that culture shapes our experience as spouses and our sense of self.
Never Have I Ever…
Do you remember playing the game “Never Have I Ever” when you were younger, maybe in high school or college? I usually “won” back then because I lived a relatively tame life. The premise is simple: hold up five fingers, and one by one, say, “Never have I ever…” followed by something you haven’t done. As a participant, if you have done it, put a finger down. It’s fun, sometimes embarrassing, and always revealing.
But here's the thing: as we grow older, the game of life becomes more complex. Our life adventures accumulate, and for military spouses, you realize you have experienced many things that most people wouldn't believe.
So, if you’re ever playing with a mix of civilians and military families, here are a few prompts that might stump the room—or spark some serious bonding. And please, make time to hear our stories—sharing our experiences is truly special to us.
Never have I ever… listed someone I’ve known for less than 48 hours as my child’s emergency contact.
Constantly moving, a trademark of military life, means filling out school or daycare emergency contact forms before the boxes are even unpacked. Within days of arriving, you’re already asking your brand-new neighbor if they can be your person if there is an emergency with your children. It sounds wild, but it’s also a beautiful example of instant community—something many of us treasure.
A few years back, my family and I were among the first to move into a brand-new neighborhood after a base expansion. Upon arrival, we were one of three families on the block. In those first few days on the base, with two very young children going into daycare the following Monday and myself returning to work, I desperately needed at least one person’s name and number I could share with the daycare staff. After a 15-minute conversation with one of my new neighbors who lived across the street, I said, “I know this is awkward, but my girls are starting daycare on Monday. Would you be comfortable sharing your phone number with me and letting me list you as a contact?” Her gracious answer was, “Of course, and could I get yours to do the same for our girls?” That same neighbor I hesitantly asked for her phone number became one of my dearest friends. That story may sound improbable, but it’s one of the many ways military spouses adapt and thrive—even when dropped into unfamiliar environments. With nearly 80 families arriving in the same summer, it felt like building a village from scratch. We met on sidewalks, shared folding chairs in the driveway, swapped moving tips, and looked out for each other’s kids.
As one spouse commented in the article, “I not only survived but also thrived” (Page et al., 2024, p. 10). That line sums it up perfectly.
Never have I ever… had my driver’s license, car registration, and current address all from different states.
Military life turns you into a logistics expert—frequently juggling paperwork across state lines. Imagine being at a duty station for a few weeks, running low on gas, standing at the gas station pump, and realizing you can’t remember which zip code is tied to your credit card. Was it the last duty station? Have I already updated it for our new address? Or is this one still tied to that more permanent address that we sometimes use at my husband’s parent’s house? That small moment perfectly captures the “Where even are we right now?” chaos that’s so normal in this life.
When meeting someone new, we often get asked, “Where are you from?” and I usually laugh before launching into: “Well, I was born in Minnesota, my husband is from Texas, we met in South Korea, our oldest was born in Louisiana, our youngest was born in Georgia— I guess we’re really from all over…”
That’s the beauty of military life—it stitches together people from all corners of the world into one community. And with that, we build bridges between cultures, backgrounds, and beliefs.
This idea closely reflects what the article calls the “integration” strategy of acculturation—those of us who learn to navigate both military and civilian life, honoring where we came from while embracing where we are now. As one spouse reflected, “The reality is that I have become half-military... I’m not sorry or resentful. But, I am different” (Page et al., 2024, p. 10). And in many ways, we’re stronger for it.
Never have I ever… had a friend not be frustrated with me for bailing on plans at the last minute.
When one of my good friends was stationed in Germany, her husband was at a field exercise during her birthday week. She wasn’t sure if he’d make it home in time, so her friend made special birthday plans to celebrate her—knowing full well she might cancel. Although it was unlikely, my friend’s husband returned on her birthday, surprising her by getting home just in time, which often does not happen. She called her friend and apologized for needing to cancel, and instead of frustration, her friend was thrilled for her. There was no guilt, no awkwardness—just joy and understanding.
This is the kind of support that quietly lives in the background of military life. We get it. We’ve all been there. Many of us, in our own ways, have struggled with what the article calls acculturative stress—navigating unfamiliar norms, finding our people, and making peace with a life full of unpredictability (Page et al., 2024). But stories like this remind us that we aren’t doing it alone.
For those outside the military community, these stories may sound fabricated. But for us, they’re just a Thursday. They represent the resilience, flexibility, and strange beauty of a life lived in service—not just by our partners but by all of us.
And maybe that’s the biggest surprise of all. Because somewhere along the way, these weird, exhausting, often lonely moments become shared experiences. They become the things we laugh about at coffee meetups or send memes about late at night with a friend who gets it.
Military culture for spouses isn’t about fitting into a mold. It’s about building your own identity while navigating a culture that doesn’t always make space for you right away. Whether we integrate, resist, adapt, or forge our way, our experiences are valid. They matter. And they shape communities that are stronger, wiser, and deeply compassionate.
The opinions in CDP Staff Perspective blogs are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinion of the Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences or the Department of Defense.
Allison Hannah, MSW, LCSW is a Military Behavioral Health Social Worker at the Center for Deployment Psychology at the Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences in Bethesda, Maryland.
Reference:
Page, A. P., Ross, A. M., & Solomon, P. (2024). "The culture" is truly the issue: A preliminary exploration of active duty female spouses' acculturation to military life. Families in Society: The Journal of Contemporary Social Services, 1–16. https://doi.org/10.1177/10443894231211357