Yesterday, four years to the day from when I left Western New York for basic training at Fort Jackson, S.C., I became a civilian again. As I stood in front of my company yesterday morning and listened my commander read the certificate for my Army Commendation Medal, I thought back on what it took for me to get to this point and how the last four years have changed me.

More than five years ago, I met this guy. I was 19 and he was kinda cute. His name was Ian. When we met, he had already enlisted and was heading off to basic training himself in little more than a month. At the time, I was flunking out of college, working two waitressing jobs and living in a crappy studio apartment partying it up. But over the weeks, as he told me why he had enlisted, and it sounded more and more logical with each day. So one day, I got up and just walked into a recruiter’s office and within a week I up at the processing station signing on the dotted line, taking my oath and given a date to leave for basic training. That was fall of 2001.

Unfortunately, due to mistakes made by me, I was unable to leave that February day in 2002. At the time, I thought that my life was over. By then I was counting on the Army to get me out of my small town and off doing something with my life. When things got better and I could finally try again, it seemed like everything was working against me. The doctors at the processing station wanted nothing to do with me and no matter how many times I sent them documentation saying I was healthy enough to join, they just weren’t having it. But, after a discouraging six months, they were finally willing to see me. Anyone less motivated would have just given up, but I couldn’t do it. I wanted it more than anything. This experience would see me though many bad days during the last four years.

Finally, nearly one year after that first visit to the processing station, in September 2002, I went back and was able to enlist again. My new ship date? Exactly 364 days after the original one. Fearing something would hinder me again, my recruiter had me checking in nearly weekly just to make sure I was still able and willing to ship. This time, nothing was going to stop me.

I can’t even begin to explain how I felt the day I left for basic training. Saying goodbye to my family was probably easier for me than for them because I was always looking for a way out of my hometown. For the rest of my life, I will always remember watching my father hold back tears while hugging me and telling me how proud he was of me. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl and after dropping out of high school, flunking out of college, getting knocked up at 20 and basically wasting my life, I’d finally done something he could brag about. Hell, I’d finally done something I could brag about.