When Home Is Wherever the Military Sends You, Where Do You Turn When Home Is No Longer Safe?

When you marry someone who serves in the military, your definition of “home” fundamentally changes. Home is no longer where you’re from, where you have family, or where you’ve built your career—it becomes wherever the military decides to send you, and it can change every few years.

Under the best of circumstances—when your marriage is strong and equitable, when your schooling or career can move with you—it’s a quirky lifestyle many of us embrace with pride. After all, we’re supporting our national security, right?

But what happens when things go wrong and your family falls apart? What happens when the person whose military service brought you hundreds of miles away from your support system is no longer the person you can depend on?

Suddenly, that distance from your village can leave you dangerously isolated.

Military spouses can face unique vulnerabilities because of the transience of military life. My story illustrates how quickly those vulnerabilities can surface—and why robust legal and housing protections for military spouses are so important.

First, I lost my health.

In the early 2010s, my then-husband was serving in the Marine Corps, preparing for a deployment to Afghanistan. We had two children under five, and I stayed home full-time to care for them.

During that time, I became extremely sick. I was too weak to drive myself to the doctor, and my husband wouldn’t leave work to take me, so eventually I had to call an ambulance. I had to bring our two small children with me because I didn’t have anyone local who could care for them.

Eventually, I contacted my husband’s workplace and explained what was happening. His command intervened, and he came to pick up our children.

I was grateful someone responded. But I should’ve never been stranded without support in the first place.

I had no legal support.

After I was released from the hospital, I learned that my husband had been moving out of our home and initiating divorce proceedings without my knowledge.

Suddenly, on top of managing my health and grieving the end of my marriage, I found myself taking a crash course in military legal terminology and civilian divorce jurisdiction.

Because my husband had already sought legal assistance from attorneys at our military installation, I couldn’t receive assistance from that same office because of the conflict of interest. To get basic legal information, I had to travel to another military installation more than an hour away.

My appointment was early in the morning. I woke my small children before sunrise, put them in the car, and drove an hour looking for answers.

What I remember receiving was a brief, matter-of-fact explanation with paperwork describing what financial support I might qualify for based on my husband’s rank and our children. Then they sent me on my way.

But that told me nothing about how my children and I were going to live.

I had no money.

At the time, I wasn’t working outside the home because I was caring for our children. I didn’t have my own income or savings. The military paycheck coming into our household was his paycheck, and at some point he removed that direct deposit from our account.

I had two small children and no money for rent, bills, food, or gas. I cannot express strongly enough how terrified I felt not knowing how I was going to keep us alive.

Again, I turned to his command. I explained what had happened. Someone intervened, and money was soon returned to the account so I could take care of our household expenses.

I am grateful that someone answered and acted. But years later, I still ask: What happens to the spouse whose call doesn’t result in intervention—or who doesn’t know to call in the first place?

This isn’t an isolated story.

There are many ways a person can become vulnerable within a relationship. Today, the Pentagon recognizes that, in addition to physical and sexual violence, domestic abuse may include emotional or psychological abuse, economic control, interference with personal liberty, and spousal neglect. According to its FY2024 report, 6,078 spouse-abuse incidents met Department criteria.

This is my first time sharing my story on such a public platform. I can do so now because I’m no longer that young military spouse who didn’t have the resources or understand the terminology I do today. I now have the language to identify gaps I couldn’t name then, and opportunities to carry military family experiences into rooms where policy is discussed.

I’m sharing my story because what happened to one family can reveal where a system failed and help ensure the next family is better protected.

My experience illustrates three ways in which military life can compound vulnerability: Without a local village, there may be no one to care for you or your children when a crisis hits. Military legal assistance can become complicated or geographically out of reach. And when your housing and finances stem from your spouse’s career, your stability can disappear remarkably quickly.

When your marriage to the military ends, even if it happens on the most amicable of terms, one fact remains constant: the paycheck, the command, the career, the orders, the know-how of navigating military systems—it all belongs to them, not you.

Military spouses deserve better protections.

Resources are available to military spouses experiencing domestic violence or abuse. The military’s Family Advocacy Program provides victim advocacy, safety planning, and counseling. Military policies also provide mechanisms to address dependent support.

But gaps remain.

First, when a victim enters the military justice system, they may receive support from rotating victim advocates, but there is no guarantee of consistent legal counsel to ensure they understand their rights every step of the way.

Second, housing can become another source of instability during a crisis. For families living on a military installation, temporary separation may still leave spouses facing the question of where they and their children will live next.

Advocates have been raising the alarm about these gaps for years. And now, proposed legislation offers an opportunity to strengthen those protections. This year’s annual defense bill (currently being negotiated in Congress) includes language that would provide a Special Victims’ Counsel (SVC) and extend housing protection for 180 days to domestic violence victims. If enacted and implemented, protections like these could be a game-changer for military spouses and children facing a crisis.

Military families sacrifice for our national security. We move, leave our villages, change schools and jobs, endure deployments and long separations. Military service asks something from the entire household.

When that household falls apart, those sacrifices should not suddenly become vulnerabilities.