A Letter on Boundaries and Burnout

My Dearest Friend,

When I first became a military spouse, I thought being supportive meant saying yes to everything. Yes to meal trains. Yes to volunteering. Yes to planning events, hosting gatherings, and filling every gap I saw. It felt like the only way to prove I belonged, the only way to carry my share of the load. But here is the hard truth: that version of “support” was not sustainable. It left me exhausted, resentful, and teetering on the edge of burnout.

How Burnout Creeps In

Burnout does not crash in all at once. It builds slowly, late at night after the children are asleep, when you are still at the dining table working on resources or fielding texts from someone in need. It shows up when you are running from one obligation to the next, saying yes even as your heart whispers no. It sneaks in when support stops being joyful and starts feeling like a burden.

The Cost of Always Saying Yes

Without boundaries, military spouse life can swallow you whole. It is not just the squadron potlucks or the fundraisers—it is the invisible labor, the emotional load, the expectation that spouses will always step in, unpaid and unseen. Saying yes to everything does not make you stronger. It makes you weary, and eventually, it makes you bitter.

What Boundaries Look Like

Boundaries do not mean stepping back from community. They mean protecting your energy so you can show up fully when it matters most. For me, that has looked like:

  • Choosing one or two commitments at a time, instead of five.

  • Protecting family nights, even if that means missing an event.

  • Saying, “I cannot take that on right now, but here is what I can do.”

  • Trusting others to step up instead of doing it all myself.

The Lesson

Support is not about stretching yourself so thin that you disappear. It is about showing up in ways that are meaningful and sustainable. Boundaries do not close doors—they make sure you do not collapse under the weight of holding them all open at once. The best kind of support is not constant—it is steady. And steadiness comes from knowing your limits and honoring them.

To the Spouse Who Feels Drained

If you have found yourself crying over something small, wondering why you feel so empty, know this: it is not because you are weak. It is because you have been carrying too much without enough rest. You are not failing—you are simply human. Give yourself permission to set something down. Choose one small boundary, one way to protect your energy, and let that be enough for today. With time, you will see that by caring for yourself, you create the space to care more deeply for others. You are allowed to be steady, not constant.

Yours in all sincerity,
A Kindred Spirit

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A Letter on the Neighbors Who Become Family

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A Letter on Starting Over, Again