There are things I thought I’d be when I grew up: a teacher, a travel writer, the kind of Southern woman who made peach cobbler from memory and wore perfume to the grocery store.
What I didn’t expect was to be a retired military spouse turned trucker’s wife. But here we are. And baby, it’s a ride.

📙Deployment Drama, Binder Boss, and Post-Housing Bingo

I never thought we’d leave the military. Truly. I thought we were in it for the long haul—retirement ceremony, flag-folding, end-of-an-era kind of deal. But life had other plans, and an unexpected medical retirement hit us like a plot twist no one saw coming.

I’ll be honest: I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t graceful. I was bitter, confused, and more than a little unkind about the whole thing. I clung to the rhythm of military life—the structure, the routine, the strange comfort of controlled chaos. I missed it. I still do, sometimes.

But eventually, I started to accept it. Not because everything magically got better, but because I realized that nothing in life is guaranteed. And even outside the gates, life can still be full—good, even. Different, yes. But good.

For years, I was married to the military. Not technically—but if you know, you know.
I’ve packed more moving boxes than UPS. I could find the post commissary blindfolded. I lived through acronyms that made no sense and deployment cycles that made even less. I was that military spouse: equal parts clipboard and chaos. The one organizing the FRG activities while “how to remove motor oil from beige carpet.” And the thing is—I was good at it. I was a pro at re-rooting my life over the years, raising teenagers through so much doubt, and making new friends in parking lots over iced coffee.

I survived the long nights. The uncertainty. The “please don’t let the Wi-Fi go out before he calls” prayers. And then—just like that—retirement.

Cue the awkward applause and “now what?” energy.

📣Honk If You’re Also a Little Confused

If you had told me back then that my next chapter would include tracking a grown man via Life 360 and sending him selfies of our cat while he’s barreling through Texas—I’d have said, “Ma’am, are you lost?”

But life has a sense of humor. Because now? My husband traded camouflage for Carhartt. He swapped rank for route numbers. I’m a trucker’s wife now.

There is no more staff duty. Now I’m making sure he has enough peanut butter, sweet tea and clean socks before his next run. There’s no more deployment countdown. Now it’s “how many hours ‘til your restart?” And I—the woman who once scheduled every day with planner stickers and color-coded highlighters—am over here just vibing with diesel fumes and missed calls.

Do I understand everything about his job? No. Do I try? Also no. Do I occasionally pretend I’m his dispatcher and text him “reminder: call your cute wife”? Every week.

🐈‍⬛Chaos, Cat Hair, and Conversations with Siri

There’s a unique chaos to this life I never could’ve imagined:

• My pantry now includes a dedicated “truck snacks” section.
• My phone has weather apps for states I’ve never even visited.
• I know just enough about trucking hours-of-service rules to be dangerous—and by dangerous, I mean deeply confused.

And then there’s Samuel, my sweet little boy kitty, who has opinions. He sits on the duffle bag when my husband is packing like he’s reenacting an emotional Hallmark scene. He also naps in the laundry basket like he’s the one recovering from a 14-hour haul through Kansas.

Sometimes I sit on the porch with a journal and think: This is not the life I imagined. But it is mine. Messy, unconventional, surprising—and mine.

🐝 My Realization

Here’s what I’ve learned somewhere between post and the big rig life: Identity isn’t always this perfectly packaged thing we carry with us. Sometimes, it’s what gets revealed when everything else changes.

You don’t stop being who you were. You just keep adding layers—like cozy socks and a good trucker hat.

Turns out, I wasn’t done evolving. And that’s okay. I’m still not. The girl who survived deployments? She’s still here. Now she just stalks the weather app and drinks her iced coffee while checking freight ETA texts like it’s completely normal.

📦 Final Thoughts from the Passenger Seat

If you’re reading this wondering how on earth I got here—me too, babe. But here’s the secret: the view is different, but the heart is the same. Still showing up. Still loving fiercely. Still figuring it out in real-time with grace and a little sass.

Still adapting, still caffeinated, still choosing joy—one unexpected mile at a time…

Natalie💛