Page 769 - Total War on PTSD

I took the opportunity to follow in my family tradition of military service, swearing in to the Army Reserves at the age of 24 on April 14, 2010. My Dad’s side of the family has a proud military history. My Great, Great, Great Grandpa served in WWI. My Great, Great Uncles served in WWII. My Grandpa served in Korea and my Dad served with the Arkansas National Guard. He had an important role during the Cuban Refugee Crisis at Fort Chaffee, Arkansas. I shipped out to Basic Training on April 24, 2010. Basic training was definitely challenging for me because I was not a runner and I disliked being purposefully disrespected. I pushed forward with a pulled quad in my right leg, sprained my left ankle and finally graduated with a broken metatarsal bone in my left foot. I broke it during at the 3-mile point of the 11-mile ruck march. I had finished the march and found out the next day that the bone was broken. Proudly, I was able to graduate with my class and marched in my combat boots with the other graduates. Advanced Individual Training was a blur. I graduated with honors and, at that point, I knew I had accomplished my mission of continuing the family tradition.
Between 2010 and 2013, my husband deployed to Afghanistan four times. I led a pretty simple life during that time. I attended college, was a student in ROTC, practiced shooting with my compound bow, became heavily involved in bow-fishing, and continued attending my monthly Battle Assemblies.
At Fort Hood, Texas in 2012, I was sexually assaulted by a ranking enlisted officer. He and his buddies had all been drinking. I had my puppy with me during this trip. I stated that I was going to go to my room to let her out. I motioned for my battle buddy to walk with me instead of the enlisted officer. My battle assured me that he would be watching the whole time. I went into my
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