Year 0: Still Not Signed Up
Year 0: Still Not Signed Up
I still haven’t signed up.
And that’s not because something went wrong. It’s not because I changed my mind or hit some new roadblock.
Everything’s actually in place. I’ve already done the hard part. I went to MEPS at the end of April, passed the ASVAB, cleared medical, and I’m eligible. I know my rating. I know where I’d be stationed. I could sign today if I wanted.
But I haven’t. And there’s one reason for that: Sadie hasn’t told me to.
Not because she doesn’t support me. Not because she doesn’t understand it. But because we’re stuck in this gray area where everything’s been said except the one thing that would make it real.
We’ve Talked About It
This isn’t a new topic in our house. It’s not something I’ve kept from her or something I’m afraid to bring up. We’ve talked about it. A lot.
We’ve talked about the five months I’d be gone, two for boot camp, and then another three for A-School. We’ve talked about how that affects our schedules, our marriage, holidays, birthdays, routines. We’ve even talked about what it would be like after all of that, if I were drilling once a month, away for a few weeks a year on orders, things like that.
She knows the details. There’s nothing left to explain.
The only part we haven’t gotten to is her saying, “You should do it.”
And I know how much weight that one sentence carries. Because it’s not just permission. It’s sacrifice.
What Makes This Hard
It’s not that we’re fighting about it. We’re not. And it’s not like she’s been dramatic or unreasonable.
She’s been honest. And so have I.
But the conversation always kind of hits this wall where neither of us knows what to say next. She’s said everything except “Go.” And I haven’t wanted to press the issue because I already know what it would do to her. I know that if I push, I’m probably going to end up with a crying wife on the couch and a day that feels heavy and sad.
And that sucks.
Because I love her. And I don’t want to be the reason her day gets ruined.
But I also can’t pretend this isn’t something I want. Because it is.
I’ve wanted this for a long time. I’ve done the research, talked to the recruiters, figured out the path. This isn’t a whim or a phase or something I’ll forget about in a month. It’s something that makes sense to me, in my head and in my gut.
It’s Not Just My Commitment
What I didn’t really understand until now is that this wouldn’t just be my commitment. It would be hers too.
When people say “military families serve too,” I always nodded along, but I didn’t really get it.
Now I do.
Because if I go, I’m not the only one giving something up. She is too.
If I leave for five months, she loses five months with me. Five months of having dinner together. Five months of late-night Target runs. Five months of small routines, big plans, holidays, and quiet nights on the couch.
She’s not just waiting around, she’s sacrificing a chunk of our life for something I want to do.
And I think that’s part of why I haven’t signed yet. Not because I don’t want to, but because I’ve finally realized this isn’t just my decision. It’s ours.
I’m Not Looking for a Way Out
Just to be clear, I’m not writing this because I’m looking for an excuse to back out.
I still want to do it.
I want to serve. I want to be a part of the mission. I want the hands-on work and the structure and the leadership and the sense of purpose that I feel every time I think about the Coast Guard.
But I also want to go into it with peace, not just for me, but for both of us. I want to know that we’re aligned. That I’m not dragging Sadie through something she quietly resents. That I’m not asking her to white-knuckle her way through half a year just because I feel called to this.
And right now, we’re just not there yet.
So What Now?
Now? I wait. I keep thinking. I keep praying. And eventually, I bring it up again.
Because I know I can’t avoid it forever. And I won’t. It’s just been hard to have the same conversation over and over when you already know it’s going to end with a heavy sigh or a tearful moment that neither of us feels ready for.
It doesn’t feel like something that needs convincing; it just feels like something that needs time.
So that’s where things are.
Not done. Not abandoned. Just paused.
Everything is ready, except for us.
And I’m okay with that for now.
Why I Write
I write these posts to stay honest about where I am, what I’m learning, and who I’m becoming. This Coast Guard path has been on my heart for a long time, and writing helps me sort through the tension, the excitement, the questions, and the growth that come with it.
I write to remember the process — not just the milestones. I want a record of the decisions, lessons, and moments that shape me as a leader, a husband, and a follower of Jesus.
Whether this journey takes me through training, onto the water, or somewhere unexpected, this space helps me stay grounded, pay attention, and move forward with intention.
Observe. Reflect. Adjust. Share.
Dream big — and start again.