The diplomatic environment

When people hear you are a diplomatic spouse, they get this look as if you must be living some glamorous life of fancy receptions and dinners. And yes, sometimes there is champagne. But honestly? That is about 5%.

What nobody knows is how invisible you feel. Your partner gets off the plane and immediately has colleagues, a desk, and meetings to attend. You step off the same plane and think, “Right, now what?” The embassy knows exactly what to do with diplomats. With spouses? They are not quite sure.

I remember my first posting, waiting for someone to sit me down and explain the rules. What am I supposed to say at receptions? Can I have opinions about local politics? Should I join the coffee mornings, or will they drive me mad? Nobody explains any of it; you are just expected to figure it out.

And then comes your past life, hitting you like a wave: the meaning, the job, and the money. Suddenly, you are financially dependent in a way you probably have not been since your student years. Your partner’s salary becomes the salary. Your career is paused, your pension contributions shrink or stop. And everyone around you behaves as if this is just part of the adventure.

The social side can be just as draining. You keep smiling at events when inside you want to cry, because everything you do reflects on your partner’s work. The spouse network becomes your social circle, whether you like it or not. Some of the people are wonderful, but it is still a box you are put into.

The hardest truth is that “following your partner” is rarely just about moving with them. It is about adapting to a system built on the assumption that someone else will hold everything together at home while the diplomat focuses on work. And that someone is you.

Some days you will enjoy it. Some days, you will wonder what you have done with your life. Most days, it will be both. And if you have ever felt that mix, you are not alone.