The Fear of Being Ordinary After Being Essential

My job day in and day out is helping veterans and service members get their lives together. As I discussed in my last article before my two-month hiatus, I've been recognizing a recurring theme within military culture: codependency. That theme has not gone away. In fact, it often becomes even more apparent during the readjustment process, when veterans are forced to find value in themselves when no one urgently needs them.

Traditionally, codependency has been conceptualized through the lens of attachment and interpersonal relationships. However, as I've continued to explore this phenomenon in my clinical work, I've come to see that it can also involve deriving one's sense of worth from solving problems, rescuing others, or constantly being responsible for the people around them.

This is particularly relevant in military culture, for it rewards self-sacrifice, teaches service before self, and encourages individuals to prioritize the mission and the team above their own needs. These values are often strengths and can contribute to exceptional leadership, resilience, and teamwork. However, they can also create an environment where a person's value becomes deeply intertwined with being needed.

For some of the veterans I work with, the question of self-worth outside of service has not surfaced yet because they continue to occupy the role of problem solver. They move from one crisis to the next, one responsibility to another, ensuring that someone, somewhere, still depends on them.

But what happens when there is no problem to fix?

The military teaches that every role is essential and that your contribution, or lack thereof, can have significant consequences. Eventually, however, everyone has to take the uniform off.

In my experience, many veterans simply replace one uniform with another. They pursue a new career, another leadership role, or another identity that allows them to remain indispensable. When circumstances force them to remove that uniform, the experience can be deeply unsettling.

The urgency disappears. The structure begins to fade. And many find themselves confronting a question they never had to ask:

Who am I when I'm not needed?

Because sitting with that question can be distressing, some veterans spend years chasing the feeling of being indispensable. Stillness forces them to confront an uncomfortable possibility, perhaps their value was never tied to their usefulness in the first place.

And as artificial intelligence becomes more accessible, I have noticed another interesting development. People are increasingly using AI for direction, asking AI what career to pursue, how to navigate difficult relationships, what business to start, how to structure their day, and even how to make major life decisions.

After separation, many veterans may find themselves navigating a world with endless options but very little structure. There is often a strong desire to find the next mission, the next purpose, or the next thing to do. And because I work a 40-hour workweek, not 24 hours a day, seven days a week, AI can feel like a trusted advisor that is available whenever questions arise.

Although I'm pursuing additional training to improve my AI literacy, I have been reflecting on the implications of AI in my clinical work. Specifically, how to help veterans understand both the opportunities and the risks associated with these technologies. For individuals shaped by a culture of service, struggling with direction, and accustomed to seeking certainty, the temptation may be to outsource decision-making altogether. Over time, the search for certainty can evolve into dependence.

The irony is that many veterans spent years learning how to make difficult decisions under pressure, adapt to uncertainty, and solve complex problems. Yet in civilian life, they may begin to doubt those very abilities and seek external validation for every step forward. The fear of being ordinary often masks a deeper fear, that without a mission, I no longer matter. In many ways, my work places me at the intersection of that struggle. I have the privilege of helping veterans discover that they do not need to earn their worth through constant sacrifice, problem-solving, or productivity.

Sometimes the next mission is not another deployment, promotion, career, or responsibility. Sometimes the mission is learning how to invest in yourself. Not through grand gestures or overcompensation, but through small, intentional acts of self-respect that prioritize growth over performance and self-worth over usefulness. For many veterans, that may be one of the most challenging and most important missions they will ever undertake.