Hi, I’m Rachel, and I’m in need of a wingman. Will you be mine? Won’t you be… my wingman?
Military life presents families with unique challenges, between deployments, moving constantly, and… well, if you’re reading this, you know what our lives our like. In one word: chaos.
But, really, I’m on board for all of it. I can make the most of time apart during a deployment, and I can organize and stress myself out to the maximum for a move every two years. What I can’t handle, though, is the socializing, and the making, losing and remaking of friends.
It’s not my strong suit.
And, it’s not for a lack of opportunities. There are dozens of posts on our local spouse social media page about getting together for wine and crafts, or wine and book clubs, or just wine. And, I’d be up for all of it, honest. Because wine. And, yet…
…If only I didn’t have to walk in alone. That simple act stops me in my tracks every single time.
Sure, I’ll come to your Scentsy party, except, no, I won’t, because I don’t know anyone.
Sure, I’ll come to a play group. Except, no, I won’t, because I don’t know anyone.
Sure, I’ll come to Bunco night. Except, no, I won’t because I DON’T KNOW ANYONE.
It’s the thought of walking in the door, all alone, not having a friend by my side, or knowing someone who is already there that I can make a beeline for and grab on to for dear life that paralyzes me. Not having that first friend prevents me from making any more friends.
So, see? I need a wingman. I need someone to assign a buddy to me as soon as we arrive at a new base. Someone to drop by, and say, “Hi! I’m your new friend.” Boom. Automatically.
Because, left to my own devices, I will sit and fester in my house, content with my social media friends, and my kiddos, and my husband when he makes his way home. I’ll visit family and redecorate the house and contemplate going back to school for my master’s. I’ll read books, write stories, play “restaurant” with the kids and take them to the zoo. I’ll work out at the gym, get coffee by myself and binge-watch Gilmore Girls alone in preparation for the new episodes on the weekends.
And, I’ll be fine, because I have always been fine being by myself. But, occasionally, I will yearn for some girl talk. I’ll get bored of listening to my 4-year-old tell me about the latest Peppa Pig episode, and wish I had someone to call for a spur-of-the-moment pedicure date.
So, I need a wingman. Welcome me to the base, or to the town, and insist I come out for a quick cup of coffee. Let me know you’ll be there for me if I need chicken soup when I’m sick, or need an emergency contact for my kiddos. Let me know you’ll be with me when I ring the doorbell at a stranger’s house for a night of hanging out with people I don’t know.
We don’t have to be buds for life, but having someone to latch on to in those first few months at a new duty station would make the isolating feelings go away much quicker.
Won’t you be my wingman?
