Sunday reflection time
Almost three years retired from active duty. Sometimes it’s bittersweet because the Air Force kept moving without me. It’s supposed to be that way, but it’s still a strange pill to swallow when you realize you went from being a gear in the machine to a spectator on the sidelines.
You spend twenty-plus years living and breathing a mission where every day has built-in purpose, camaraderie, and a distinct uniform. You know exactly where you fit. Then you step away, and the uniform goes in the closet.
It’s a unique kind of transition—not because you necessarily want to go back to the 0400 alarms or the endless admin, but because you miss the weight of it. You miss being part of something larger than yourself. Watching the transition from the outside can feel less like moving on and more like being left behind, even when you’re proud of the new crew holding the line.
Although I don’t miss the endless admin, deployments, or time away from family, I do miss the buzz in the squadron before a flight—the feeling of leading a crew through a successful mission, whether it was a local training line or a downrange sortie.
I’m lucky to have transitioned to a job training young aviators, so I still get to feel like part of something bigger than myself. The group in the office is all retired Air Force, and there’s very little filter with that crowd; we’d be an HR nightmare in the civilian world. 😀
They say the first three years are the toughest for retirees, and I feel that some days. Losing that part of your identity after sacrificing so much hurts sometimes. But there isn’t a day that goes by where I wouldn’t do it all over again!