This year, I made the decision to find a faith community, something I’ve wanted for years but never pursued. A recent health scare awakened something in me—a realization that time isn’t guaranteed, and I shouldn’t keep putting off what matters most. As we returned to church, the sermon about “phishing” took on a much deeper meaning than I expected. It wasn’t just about cybersecurity; it was about how, in life, we can be “phished” into believing false narratives about ourselves, pushing us to chase external approval rather than embracing our true worth.

This resonated with me deeply, especially as I reflected on my own life, my constant drive to meet others’ expectations, and how that pursuit often led to unhappiness. It was a reminder that we are all worthy, regardless of our perceived shortcomings, and that true happiness comes not from external accomplishments, but from embracing who we are.

As a federal employee participating in the Deferred Resignation Program, I’ve found myself at a crossroads—balancing my desire to escape an environment I never intended to join with the need to secure financial stability. The Trump administration’s push to downsize the federal workforce made the decision to accept the program an easy one for me. Despite my political alignment, I’m not thrilled with the rhetoric surrounding this program, especially when it implies that federal workers, including myself, are taking advantage of taxpayers. The truth is, like most people, I’m simply trying to navigate life’s challenges and seize the opportunities that arise. With my family’s move to Las Vegas on the horizon, this program allows us to pursue our dreams and future goals without sacrificing our financial stability.

After over two decades of service in the Air Force, I retired with a mix of emotions—relief, empowerment, and a renewed sense of self. My time in the military had been defined by rigid structures and ever-changing values, especially in the face of social issues like COVID and the Black Lives Matter movement. My final years were marked by disillusionment with the very institution I had dedicated my life to. The tipping point came when I was denied a promotion due to my race—not because I wasn’t qualified, but because I didn’t “look diverse enough.” This injustice, coupled with the shifting priorities of the military, led me to make the decision to retire. Since leaving the uniform behind, I’ve found fulfillment in new pursuits: journalism, policy analysis, and fiction writing. The lessons I learned in the military still shape me, but I now define myself outside of the constraints of that identity.

Reflecting on my journey from military service to pursuing my writing dreams, it’s been a monumental path. Growing up, I was told that writing wasn’t for me, and I was steered into a military career that shaped much of my identity. But after leaving the service, I rediscovered my love for writing, even as life’s obstacles, including toxic family dynamics, held me back at times. Finally, after breaking free and setting a clear plan for my future, I’ve passed the halfway point in writing my first book. The same 18-year-old who doubted her abilities is now well on her way to proving those doubts wrong.

For years, I tried to be enough for my mother, believing that one day she would show me the love and acceptance I longed for. But as an adult, I had to face the painful truth that my mother didn’t love me, and perhaps, she never had. My family’s journey to care for my father, who has Parkinson’s, revealed the stark reality of my toxic relationship with my mother. Despite my sacrifices, she chose her emotional abuse, her hoarding, and her toxic son over me and my family. In the end, I chose myself, I chose my own family, and I walked away from the cycle of abuse that had defined my life for too long.

Today, I received the best news I could have asked for—I don’t have cancer. A few weeks ago, after noticing changes in my breast, I feared the worst. I’ve watched my parents’ health deteriorate over the years, and my mind began racing through all the possibilities. But, through it all, I realized how much time I had spent avoiding things I truly wanted to do, simply out of fear or excuses. As I sat in the doctor’s office and received the news that my health concern wasn’t cancer, a wave of relief washed over me, but more than that—it reminded me that life is a gift, and I shouldn't wait for "someday" to live it. I'm making plans, starting with a trip to Maine, a dream I've long put off. Life is short. It’s time to stop talking about it and start doing it.