There is nothing more memorable, nothing more meaningful perhaps, than combat. Ask any veteran who’s been through an extensive firefight and survived it. (Curiously, not everybody says that combat is the most frightening thing they’ve ever done. I’ve had friends tell me that becoming a father was more terrifying, or proposing to a future spouse.) At any rate, for many, after the experiences of combat, everything seems – well – just plain boring. This thinking is illustrated by my friend’s recent remark that, “the most exciting, important, and meaningful part of my life is already over.” He was 22 years old. When you’ve been at the top, so to speak, the only direction is down.
When you’ve spent months or even years in a combat zone fighting an enemy of the United States, everything else seems dull. No doubt, careful training that prepared us for such experiences helped us quickly adapt to them, too. We didn’t just survive in combat zones; many of us thrived. But then we come home.
Following my third combat tour and discharge from the Marines, I was not anticipating finding civilian life to be so absolutely mind-numbingly uninteresting. I was anticipating a “honeymoon.” I was free, I had money, I had no pressing responsibilities, and I could do whatever I want, whenever I wanted, and nobody could tell me otherwise. But I was bored to tears and, in search of something fun, I blew money. Lots of it.
In retrospect, I was probably trying to replace the thrill of combat with other thrills – namely buying things which interested me. Yet it wasn’t even the objects themselves which were so enticing, but reveling in the fact that I could, and that nobody could stop me (a very different story than a Marine sergeant, obviously). Not surprisingly, these purchases were unfulfilling. The western idea of, “if you just buy this one more thing, life will be awesome and amazing” is a lie. I accumulated piles of needless items, drained my bank account (which was once very full), and rapidly approached debt.
Reckless spending is fairly common post-deployment and post-military. Many of us are – for the first time in our lives – halfway wealthy (at least as we see it). We’ve spent significant periods of time away from home needing little more than food, baby wipes and bullets, and now we’re reminded of all the toys and perks we missed. Just as a number of us try to make up for a year of sobriety with one wild night in a bar, I think we attempt the same with our money. We try to “catch up.”
Don’t do it.
In the first 12 months out of the military, I spent about $40,000 on myself, on traveling, drinks and meals for lots of friends, motorcycles, guns, tools, electronics, and a host of other less expensive toys. Not one of them made me happy; very few (if any) were essential purchases, and I soon found myself not only broke, but accruing a fairly significant credit card balance. Things don’t make us happy; they simply delay the inevitable discovery that we’re not happy at all.
At the beginning of this article, I said that there is nothing more memorable than combat experiences. While this may seem true, I’m not entirely sure I believe it. The experiences of combat are indeed sharp and elements of them will probably stay with us forever, but there’s much more to post-military life. There are relationships , for starters; and while they may not be as “condensed” a thrill as a firefight, they are – over time – far more savory and enjoyable (and less hazardous to your health, too). There are also untold numbers of volunteer activities, pastimes, clubs and organizations, too. Hiking, whitewater rafting, dog training, gardening, you name it. There are options. Attempting to recreate the artificial stimuli of a combat zone (frequent, very intense thrills) is a good way to end up broke, or injured, or dead. Spending money doesn’t work.
If you find yourself with an enormous, post-deployment or post-military bank account, think long and hard before you touch it. I would suggest carefully budgeting yourself, carefully evaluating every expenditure, and perhaps even asking a trusted mentor/friend for advice. Do you really need that second motorcycle? Is a $1,500 laptop really necessary, or does the $600 model work just fine? Is this an impulsive post-military spending spree, or this a genuine need/long-term want? Slow down, and be willing to talk to a financial manager if you think you need a wiser perspective.
Nothing, friends, will ever compare to the accelerated excitement of a firefight. Nothing. But there are many things which can be more memorable and meaningful. Few of them involve money. Money, frankly, cannot buy happiness. It limps you along being thrilled with new purchases, and then it runs out and you’re not happy at all.
It’s important to understand that you’re no longer in a combat zone. It’s important to understand also that you won’t ever be able to recreate those experiences. More significantly, it’s critical to realize that you don’t want to, either. Combat is life or death. Here, back at home, is life. Live it; and this starts with spending (and saving) your money carefully, not trying to satisfy every material whim. You may want to at first, but don’t. Save your money, and invest your time in living.
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*If you are currently in debt and wish to do something about it, contact your nearest VA regional office for a list of VA-approved debt consolidation/reduction agencies and resources. Also, Dave Ramsey has some great information: http://www.daveramsey.com/article/the-truth-about-debt-reduction/
Copyright © 2011, Ben Shaw, All Rights Reserved