I joined the Army at 26 years old. I turned 27 the day I left the reception battalion for my basic training unit. I was not the oldest trainee in the company, but close. Basic training taught me that I could walk forever, shoot a rifle, chuck a grenade though, they did write ‘chicken wing’ on my helmet prior to throwing and the range cadre did cover my entire body with his after I threw said grenade, so I imagine I didn’t throw it quite far enough…), function passably on very little sleep, cat pretty much anything, and tolerate a whole lot of yelling.
After a bit more schooling for officers and military police, where the Army reinforced how capable I was at walking far and added shooting a pistol no more grenades though, to everyone’s great relief), I suddenly had 13 years of Army service behind me.
The Army taught me so much about my own abilities — what I am able to accomplish, push through, overcome. It taught me that I am capable of doing hard things.
I have walked many, many miles (have I mentioned that bit yet?), successfully trained on J-turns and pit maneuvers, parallel parked a HEMTT wrecker on a railcar, and let a Solider learn how to administer an IV using my arm.
I have briefed a two star general, a room full of 300 Italian service members, a room full of Afghan medical doctors, and a classroom of Afghan girls. I have translated meetings between US and German policing leaders. I have trained new Soldiers and taught West Point Cadets. And I have been the only woman in the room of many, many individuals on numerous occasions.
Every single one of those pictures above is associated with a person, memory or time I will hold dearly forever: The Army gave me the chance to meet the love of my life – Julia – and start a family.
But there were bad times, too, and they eventually caught up with me.
Somewhere towards the end of the 13 years, after my heart changed from depression and PTSD resulting from those bad times, and my body changed from pregnancy and childbirth, I forgot that I was capable of all those things. I medically retired from the Army, and I continued to forget.
It wasn’t until I found the Warrior Surf Foundation that I started to remember. I learned how to surf at 40 years old.
Through the Warrior Surf Foundation, I found my way to Kate Moon and her Yoga Teacher Training. And I found yoga.
Over the past year and a half, yoga has helped me remember what I already knew to be true: I am strong, I am resilient, Iam patient, Lam brave, I am kind, I am focused, I am determined, I am fierce. I am a warrior.
Yoga has also given me something else that is equally important: Community.
You often hear service members talk about the sense of camaraderie and how the bonds they form with their brothers and sisters in arms cannot be replaced.
But yoga lead me to a community and people who have changed and continue to change the course of my life. And I would not trade this moment, or the people in my life now, for any other.
Strength is multiplied when it is shared — we are all capable of lifting one another higher. And I am so grateful to be surrounded by you, my fellow warriors.