Purpose

Purpose… Where Did It Go?

I will admit, this is my third time sitting to write this article. It’s not a difficult topic; it’s a topic I have spoken about time after time to the other dudes on the team. It is a topic I spoke about to the younger guys getting out, and the older guys still around. The problem with writing this article is that I am still wrestling with this topic myself, even though I know the answers, the peace of mind of the transition to the new chapter of life hasn’t come yet. So, as I type this article, just know that I am wrestling with every word.

For the Dudes

In the military, your purpose is easy. It is the dude to your left and right. I will push beyond tired, for the team, I will push through hunger, for the team, I will ignore pain and injuries, for the team… but what about when there is no team anymore? What about when your 11 best friends move on to the next mission, training, deployments, inside jokes, they all continue to evolve without you.

We used to hate long deployments because we would come home and while home was the same in our minds it was now 10 months of change and development. Friends got married, birthdays happened, major events occurred, but not to you. This is what it is like leaving a team, now you are stationary on the outside and they continue to train and change and you stay the same.

I knew what my purpose was because I knew every single one of their names, their children’s names, I could tell who they were by how their silhouette moved under NVGs, I knew their birthdays, favorite beers, favorite foods, and the sound of their voice when they were up or down. This was my purpose. I could ignore everything in life if it meant I got better for these guys, I could push through discomfort because I knew they would do the same. My purpose lived and breathed next to me, and my life purpose was to make sure it remained that way.

One day, that ends. It doesn’t matter if you were SOF or not, a college athlete or not, or you just had a close group of friends growing up that eventually split ways, the purpose of this article is to discuss that transition and where to find your purpose again. I can promise you that it won’t be the first place you look and it sure as shit won’t be at the bottom of a bottle or in an empty can of NASCAR beer. 

A New Beginning is NOT a New End

Just because you are transitioning from where you were does not mean you are no longer who you were. Those experiences, that knowledge, the friendships, the memories, they all go with you. They become part of the masterpiece, slowly developing piece by piece, that is your life which can only be observed in retrospect. But the driving force pushing you forward is changing, and with it you are also growing.

We always talk about having purpose without ever really defining it. I think that is at a detriment of all the guys trying to still define their purpose. I always defined purpose as having two major parts:

First, it has to be personally meaningful. For me, being on a team was all I wanted. I wanted the 11 best friends. I wanted to travel the world. I wanted to experience life and have experiences that would increase my knowledge for helping others. Therefore, the actions I took needed to support my position, they needed to support these goals, my values, and the desired outcome.

Second, purpose needs to contribute beyond yourself. 

A Shift, NOT a New Purpose

Just because your circumstances change, it does not mean that you need to go out and find an entirely new purpose. I think that is where a lot of us get stuck. Guys feel they need to reinvent themselves without a real direction. After being transformed into their current self through years, even decades, of experiences, they are all of a sudden trying to find a new identity and then they hit the gas to try and be as familiar with it as they are with war. It doesn’t work like that.

A lot of guys get to a place where they feel they HAVE to figure out what they are supposed to do and who they are supposed to be. But there is a better question to ask. You can ask, “who am I responsible for?”

Their last identity in the military was tied to the guy to the left and right, tied to their team, squat, platoon, or company, but it is something we can use to make that shift. Who are you responsible for?

For most of us, our purpose in the military was very external. It was the dudes on the team, it was the mission, it was the standards, it was something outside of ourselves that demanded every ounce of strength. It demanded every ounce of focus because you wanted to be the best, on the best team, and with the best guys, and for them you wanted to be the best. It was life or death, maybe not every day, but when it came to being life or death you knew that you needed to be prepared.

Then suddenly, the guys aren’t there. Your mission is over. The uniform is in the Tough Box in the top of your garage or shed. The worst part about it is that after you gave your blood, sweat, tears, and time, you skipped birthdays, anniversaries, funerals, and every holiday, you were replaced in the blink of an eye. They had to, the mission continued for the other guys, but that still hurts.

You are left with a spouse, kids, a job, a mortgage, a dog, maybe a weird cat, and a pile of crap that needs to be fixed around the house. All the while there is a strange feeling that none of it seems as important as what you used to do.

This is where dudes get it wrong. If you were nodding your head as you read, you probably have things wrong. Here is the hard truth. Your family is NOT a consolation prize. Your wife isn’t a lesser version of the team. Your kids aren’t a replacement for the mission. They ARE your mission.

That sounds cheesy, like a book written by an officer, I know. I heard it a thousand times. Every time we deployed and returned. Every major training event. Every group formation. But there is something incredibly profound about realizing that the characteristics that made you valuable on a team are the same characteristics that can make you valuable at home, for the real mission.

You learned to be dependable. So be dependable. Show up, be present, stay focused on the task at hand which might be playing Legos, Hot Wheels, having a catch, or being present for a hard conversation.

You learned to sacrifice comfort for someone else. Sacrifice comfort for your family. Your young child comes in while you’re trying to workout in the garage, put the SOFLETE app down and take a moment for a hug. Read that extra book at night. Lay on the floor and build something together.

You learned to recognize when one of your teammates was having a bad day even without a word being spoken. Learn to recognize it in your wife. Have the conversations, be the hopeless romantic, buy the damn flowers at the store, take a moment to truly listen.

You learned to put your ego aside when the mission required it. Do the same when your kid is having a meltdown in the backseat because you brought the wrong snack. You learned that your actions affected everyone around you, and they still do. You still carry the weight of the team and the mission on your shoulders.

The difference is that now the people looking at you aren’t wearing the same uniform.

The Hard Part

There is another problem with this transition that I think needs to be talked about here. The military, your teammates, your cadre, gave you immediate feedback. You knew whether you were getting better or not. You could see whether the team trusted you. You could feel yourself becoming more capable. There were schools, promotions, elections, awards, deployments, qualifications, and missions. There was always another mountain to climb.

Your family doesn’t work that way and you can’t expect it to. Nobody will give you a medal for being a good husband or a good day. You wont get a MQ for sitting on the floor for an hour playing Legos with your kid when you really wanted to be watching the game. Nobody cares that you got up at 2 in the morning for the third night in a row because your wife and daughter are both sick. There is no AAR for staying patient when you were exhausted.

There is just the quiet accumulation of thousands of seemingly insignificant decisions and that can be incredibly difficult for a man who spent years being measured by your performance, capability, skill, and leadership abilities. Now is a time where you need to recognize your progress in a new way.

Maybe becoming a better man or woman isn’t about becoming more capable of extraordinary things. Maybe it is about becoming extraordinarily good at ordinary things. Showing up, listening, keeping your word, being patient, taking care of your body because you want to be around for your kids… and grandkids. Calling your parents, being present at dinner without your phone, going to Church, helping your neighbor, taking your wife on a date even when you are tired, doing the dishes without needing to be asking.

These things don’t feel like a mission, but they are. This is the new mission and while there might be setbacks and a learning curve, especially if you were deployed or away training a lot, this is a no fail mission. They need you.

Finishing with You

This is the part that I struggle with the most, that I wrestled with for the longest time before putting the words to the paper. We spend so much time being useful to other people that we can forget that we are people too. When your identity has been built around being a teammate, a leader, a father, a husband, a professional, or a protector, it can feel selfish to ask, ‘what do I want?’

There is a major difference between selfishness and stewardship. You have a responsibility to become the man you were created to become. That means you still need things that challenge you.

You need friendships, physical training, time outside, things that make you curious, silence, faith, something that belongs to you, and many other things. But you don’t need these things because your family isn’t enough, because your friends aren’t enough. You need these things because you cannot pour from an empty cup, and because a man who completely disappears into his responsibilities eventually becomes resentful of the very people he loves.

The goal isn’t to abandon yourself for your family. Your goal is to become a better version of yourself for your family. There is a major difference.

You will Miss Them

The dudes… you are going to miss the dudes. I don’t think we should pretend otherwise. Anyone who had a parent who was in the military, or a grandparent, knows that it is a lifelong hole in our hearts. You will miss the team, the adventures, the laughs, you will even miss the stupidity. You are going to miss being surrounded by men who didn’t need an explanation for why something mattered. You are going to miss the adrenaline, being uncomfortable, being needed in a very specific way, and sometimes you are going to miss it so badly that you wonder if leaving was a mistake.

It wasn’t

Missing something doesn’t mean you are supposed to go back. It means that it mattered. That chapter of your life was important. Those teammates, friends, brothers, mattered. You don’t need to minimize it in order to move forward, carry them with you. Tell the stories, make the phone calls (not texts), show up for their kids, go to the reunions, help the younger guys, and stay connected.

But, with one warning. Don’t make the mistake of trying to recreate the past so perfectly that you miss the life sitting in front of you in the present. Your old team deserves your loyalty; your current family deserves your presence. Those two things are not mutually exclusive.

Bringing this to a Close. Purpose is Built, not Found

Maybe this is the biggest lesson I am still wrestling with. We talk about finding purpose as though it is buried somewhere and one day we will stumble across it. I no longer think that is how it works. I think purpose is built through responsibility. You CHOOSE something worth caring about. You DECIDE what you are going to be. You ACCEPT responsibility for the people and things that have been entrusted to you. 

Show up. Over and over and over again. Show up. Eventually, meaning starts to accumulate. That is what happened on the team. I didn’t wake up one morning and decide that those 11 dudes were my purpose in life. It happened through thousands of little moments.

Training, eating, working out, laughing, losing friends, going to war together. Building trust, dedication, purpose through experiences and moments took time, and now we have to do it again. Not because the first purpose was wrong but because life changed. 

The man to your left and right might no longer be physically standing next to you, but the lessons they gave you are still present. Take what they taught you, the discipline, loyalty, willingness to suffer for something bigger than yourself, the ability to put someone else’s needs ahead of your own, the courage, the brotherhood, take it all… and bring it home. Maybe the next chapter isn’t about finding a purpose that is as intense as the last one, maybe it is about learning to recognize the purpose that has been quietly sitting at your kitchen table the entire time.

Your wife, kids, neighbors, friends, community, your faith, and eventually the man you are becoming. 

I don’t have this figured out, I am on a similar journey as many of you. I am actively investing in working through this each and every day. Some days I feel like I am crushing it, most days I miss the team like crazy, but maybe it is all part of the process. Maybe the goal isn’t to stop missing who you were but it is becoming grateful for who you were while becoming fully present for who you are now.

You learned how to give everything for the guy to your left and right, now you have to learn how to give everything for the people who are waiting for you at home. The purpose didn’t disappear, it just shifted.

Don’t forget, your family is not a consolation prize.