Showing Up

I have a PhD. I have served in a war. I have raised children. I have built businesses, led organizations, and navigated more than a few genuinely difficult seasons of life. And yet, apparently, I still do not possess the wisdom necessary to decline a footrace with a 10-year-old. In my defense, she challenged me. Actually, that's my entire defense. I was at my daughter's softball practice when a 10-year-old wanted to race me. Somewhere deep inside my 43-year-old brain, the rea

There have been times in my life when I knew, logically, that I was safe. My body didn't always get the memo. That's one of the strange things about trauma. You can be sitting in your own house. Your children are nearby. Nothing is happening. You're safe. And still, some part of your brain is scanning the room. Listening. Watching. Preparing. If you've never experienced that, it's difficult to explain. And if you have, I probably don't need to. As a veteran who has lived with

Today I'm running in a shirt that says: THIS IS WHAT A VETERAN LOOKS LIKE. I've always loved that phrase. Because apparently, I don't. At least not to everyone. I've lost count of the number of times someone has assumed my husband is the veteran. To be fair, he is. He served in the Marine Corps. But so did I. Not in the Marine Corps - I don't like the way crayons taste. I joined the United States Army at 18 years old. I served with XVIII Airborne Corps. I deployed in support

I knew exactly who I was at 18. I was a soldier. Which, looking back, is kind of wild. At eighteen, most people are just beginning to figure themselves out. They're choosing majors, changing their minds, making questionable decisions, and slowly discovering who they might want to become. I joined the Army. And almost immediately, a huge piece of my identity was handed to me. There was a uniform to wear. A rank on my chest. A unit I belonged to. A mission. People who depended

I joined the Army when I was 18 years old. At eighteen, most people are still figuring out who they are. I was handed a uniform. There was something strangely comforting about that. The military tells you where to be, what to wear, what your job is, who your people are, and what is expected of you. You become part of something larger than yourself almost overnight. You don't have to wonder where you belong. It's sewn onto your chest. I served with XVIII Airborne Corps. I depl

There are parts of my story I tell easily. I enlisted in the Army at 18, in the aftermath of September 11. I served with XVIII Airborne Corps. I deployed in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. I became a mom. I went back to school, more than once. I earned a PhD studying community engagement. I built programs for veterans. I worked inside systems meant to serve them. I started organizations and businesses. I created spaces where people could gather, eat, celebrate, talk, and