I was surrounded with opportunity.
Overall, I was off to a pretty good start I suppose, but it wasn’t long until I became frustrated with being at the bottom of the food chain, and started to blame others for my situation. It was the system’s fault that I had to wait so long to go to a promotion board. It was my supervisor’s fault for not recognizing my potential and putting it to use. Whatever frustrations came up, I found someone else to blame. Within a few years, I had created reasons for why I would leave the service, return home, and be the leader who the Army wouldn’t let me be.
Fortunately, my father was a wise man, and he stepped in with some good advice as usual. He convinced me that ‘the Army’ doesn’t typically do things to people, or treat them good or bad. He told me about how it was simply a large organization, in which the people do these things to one another, and even to themselves. “It is people who accomplish the missions, and people who live the Army Values,” he would say. “You can either run from the problem, or stick around and be the one to fix it.”
Needless to say, I stuck around and tried to improve my attitude. Eventually, I came to realize that if I wanted to succeed in life, I would have to play my roles very well. That included the role of Private First Class, as non-prestigious as I considered it to be in the realm of leadership. So, from that day forward I started trying to lead by example, for that was my only responsibility at the time. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, but if I was ever going to lead others, I first had to become master of myself.
Soon after I changed my worldview, I began to realize that I was surrounded with opportunity. In fact, I always had been... I just lacked awareness. I was not living in the present moment, but was dwelling on the past and future instead. Ironically, in an effort to be in control, I had somehow lost control of everything.
Then, just as I was deciding to get my life back in gear, things really got crazy. As a young married Specialist (E-4) with a one-year-old daughter and a near-perfect record of health, I suddenly became dizzy... and then fell to the ground while at work. That very day, my world changed forever. At 22 years old, I was unlikely to live until my next birthday without a major open-heart surgery. I still remember sitting in the quiet office with the cardiologist, trying my best not to space out while she explained the situation. Talk about a jaw dropper... I woke up that morning thinking about what to eat for breakfast, and then went to bed that same night worried about which type of prosthetic aortic valve I would prefer... hmmm, hadn’t thought about that one before. It was the first of many sleepless nights.
The following week was spent undergoing various tests and procedures as the surgeons prepared for the big operation. Gaps of free time were filled with calls from family, or trying to keep track of my new grocery list of medications, and the even longer list of unpleasant side-effects that came with each pill. I started with a good attitude, sure that I could will myself to a speedy recovery, but it was all more exhausting than I could even imagine.
My family was there every step of the way, doing their best to comfort me and appear strong, although I saw in their eyes a greater fear than my own. It was the fear of losing a husband, a son, or a father... a fear that I did not understand at the time. My military comrades, civilian co-workers, and local friends were also very supportive, and always trying to help in whatever ways they could. But as reality set in over the following weeks, my worldview darkened, and the help of others became a constant nagging reminder of how helpless I had become.
My one scheduled week in the hospital turned into three, with multiple frightening trips back to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU). Each time I tried to walk around the ward or take a stroll around the block, I would wind up having some crazy palpitations or an inflamed heart muscle. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Coughing was avoided at all costs, and sneezing was entirely out of the question. I went nowhere without my heart-shaped pillow from the hospital and a spare pain pill or two. It was like the old saying, “one step forward and two steps back” over and over again. I missed running and exercise so badly, for it was how I always coped with stress, how I met friends, and how I had come to be proud of myself. I soon discovered that without my physical abilities, I was very weak overall, and that made me feel vulnerable and afraid to lose even more.
Throughout the whole ordeal, I spent so much of my time thinking about the past and future, that I actually felt lost in the present. Being an injured or ill soldier is a scary place to be, especially if you love the job and want to continue as part of the team. It’s just not a culture where being weak is acceptable, even if you are the only one who sees yourself that way. For it takes strong people to accomplish the mission, and it was hard to see myself as strong while recovering in a military environment.
I tried to cope normally at first, but with my physical limitations I failed miserably. I turned my frustration inward, and denied the emotional pain that I was in. Soon after, it began to surface as anger and resentment with the people around me, and with the system as a whole. I slowly isolated myself by pushing people away until I eventually lost my family, my job, my home, my health, and my pride in who I was. With few other viable options in mind, I turned to substance abuse, and eventually had serious thoughts of ending my own life. For the first time ever, I knew what it was like to be lost and without hope.
While at an all time low, I decided that my SGLI (life insurance) was worth more than I could provide on my own, so I got in my Ford Mustang and headed down a dead end country road at more than 100 miles per hour. As the speedometer pushed higher, I unbuckled my safety belt, closed my eyes, and thought for sure I was done... But there would be more to my story.
My life flashed before my eyes, and I suddenly realized that I was running from my problems once again. I considered the struggles that my mother had overcome, and the positive impact she had made on many lives as a result. Before it was too late, I slammed the brakes, turned the car around, and decided to make something positive out of the adversity that I was in. If I died from a heart valve problem or an unexpected blood clot, I was ok with that. But I was going to use every minute I had left to put my life back together, to hold my daughter in my arms once again, and to lead by example in whatever ways I could manage. My story, as I began to recognize, was a perfect opportunity to inspire others. The only thing that it lacked was a positive ending, and creating that ending became my new mission.
Fortunately, though I was lost and alone at the time, I was lost in the right place... The Present Moment. I chose to begin a new life… with only what I had… precisely where I was, and that has made all the difference. After the surgery, the ensuing year-long medical-board process, and an arduous personal journey, I took control of my time, and began to spend it more wisely.
My family reunited after an unfortunate separation, and we had two more children while stationed overseas. I was promoted to Sergeant, and then Staff Sergeant within two years, which afforded me the priceless gift of leading soldiers and watching them grow for nearly a decade. I completed a bachelor’s degree by attending classes at night, did my master’s through the Army Social Work Program, and received a commission as a behavioral science officer.
One thing I did to motivate myself was that I started an experience journal. In it, I simply put one liner entries about places I go and experiences I have with certain people who have made my life more meaningful. Think bucket list, but backwards. I make an effort to add diversity to the book, and to leave behind a little piece of who I was, and what I saw. In some ways, I see it as part of my legacy, and I hope that it will inspire my children or grandchildren when I’m gone. To date, the book has more than 750 entries, and I look through it on days when I’m feeling down or just bored. The journal always reminds me that if I want a more rewarding life, I have to begin where I am... and create it.
