By Joe Byerly
It’s been three years since I deployed to Europe on short notice with the 82nd Airborne Division in preparation for Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Nine months since I gave up command of a cavalry squadron in Europe. And six months since I last wore a military uniform.
Now, I’m settling into a routine. For the most part, my weeks follow a familiar rhythm. Even the weekends look the same. Every Friday evening, I pick up the same pizzas from the same place.
And the realization is starting to sink in: I’m living a halfway interesting life.
I first came across that phrase in In Love and War, James Stockdale’s memoir. He recalled a conversation with his wife, Sybil, shortly after returning home from Vietnam. Stockdale had spent eight years in the infamous Hanoi Hilton, fighting for his life, his mind, and his fellow prisoners of war. Meanwhile, Sybil had led a national movement of wives whose husbands were POWs or missing in action. She worked alongside Nixon and Kissinger, appeared on The Today Show, and fought on a different front.
Despite the agony and uncertainty they endured, those eight years had been intense, action-filled, and, at times, undeniably exciting.
Stockdale wrote:
“It was going to be very hard if not impossible to ever again find the outside challenge, excitement, and fulfillment each of us, in our own spheres, knew in the dark days of the war. Any search for an encore in our lives was just doomed to ring hollow in our hearts.”
From then on, he and Sybil knew they would have to adjust to a life that, at best, was “halfway interesting“.
People told me the transition would be tough, but I honestly thought it would be different for me. I assumed I’d handle it better. But they were right. I wasn’t prepared for my life to become halfway interesting.
There are times when I get this sinking feeling that there is no encore. It happens in moments when I’m pulling into the parking lot of the pizza place for the 20th time or sitting in a doctor’s office with a bunch of elderly retirees. When that happens, the emotions come at me, and they come fast.
Then, I stop myself.
What does my halfway interesting life look like?
I spend my days doing the things I used to wake up at an ungodly hour to squeeze in: reading, writing, and reflecting. I’m working for one of my favorite authors, helping him write books. And for the first time, I’m finally confronting the internal battles I pushed aside for years, issues that I never had the space or time to deal with before.
I coordinate carpool schedules on Sunday nights with two other families. I enjoy morning drives to school, where my seven-year-old belts out songs I didn’t even realize she knew. I get to verbally spar with my son and his quick wit after family dinners. And I’m strengthening my marriage in ways that wouldn’t have been possible when so much of my energy was spent training soldiers for combat.
Finally, I have the space to invest in the relationships I once neglected. I reconnect with old friends over coffee or a beer. I serve as a sounding board for those still in uniform, helping them navigate their own leadership challenges. And I’ve spent countless hours talking to men and women who are staring down retirement, unsure of what life looks like on the other side.
Yes, there are moments when I get antsy, when I feel like I should be doing more, like I’m missing some major opportunity. I start thinking I need to chase something bigger, something important.
But then I remember what Stockdale said about the agreement he and his wife made:
“Ever since, each of us has been quick to remind the other, when our partner seems poised for a frantic pursuit of an elusive goal, that we’re not on a utopia track, but simply on a pleasant voyage of prolonged decompression, looking for the halfway interesting.”
So no, I won’t be fighting wars anymore. I won’t be moving every two years. I won’t be waking up to 2 a.m. phone calls about some soldier’s unimaginable weekend choices. And I’m no longer in the hunt for the next promotion or career-enhancing assignment.
But for the first time in a long time, I get to live a life built around the things that matter to me.
One where I pursue things that may be only halfway interesting compared to a military career, but are deeply meaningful to me.
I’m now experiencing something most veterans struggle to put into words, so instead, they just say, “transition is hard.” But let’s call it what it is: we’re all learning to live a halfway interesting life. And for my brothers and sisters who’ve walked this same path, just remember: now, you get to decide what’s interesting and what’s not.
Joe Byerly is a retired U.S. Army Lieutenant Colonel with 20 years of service, including tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, and command of a cavalry squadron in Europe. He earned numerous prestigious awards, including multiple Legion of Merits, Bronze Stars, the Purple Heart, and General Douglas MacArthur Leadership Award. In 2013, Joe founded From the Green Notebook . A passionate advocate for self-knowledge through reading and reflection, he authored The Leader’s 90-Day Notebook and co-authored My Green Notebook: “Know Thyself” Before Changing Jobs, a resource for leaders seeking greater self-awareness. If this post resonated with you or sparked any questions, feel free to reach out to him at Joe@fromthegreennotebook.com.
