Teen watched 9/11 unfold on T.V—then she enlisted without telling her parents

When I think back to my life before September 11, 2001, the person I was then feels almost unrecognizable.

I was 18 and had just graduated high school in the top two percent of my class. I was studying early childhood education at a community college in Arizona and planned to become a teacher. My path seemed set.

Then everything changed.

I was living in Maricopa County, near Luke Air Force Base, when I woke up to news that a plane had hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center. At first, I assumed it was a terrible accident. Then I watched a second plane strike the South Tower and felt a wave of fear and confusion.

I drove to campus, only to find classes had been cancelled. On the way home, I noticed there were no planes in the sky, which was strange given how close we were to the air force base.

As I watched events unfold, I felt an overwhelming urge to do something.

That was when I decided to enlist in the Army.

America was a very different place then. The response to 9/11 was unlike anything I’ve seen since. People from all walks of life and across the political spectrum came together around a common purpose.

About two weeks later, I was sitting in a recruiter’s office. He asked me, “How soon do you want to go?”

I replied, “As soon as you can send me.”

This was my call to serve.

My parents were shocked. No one in my family had done anything like it before. I didn’t tell them I was considering enlisting and, by the time I spoke to them, I’d already signed up and would be leaving within a month. My mom probably cried for a week.

My friends were equally surprised. Whenever we’d talked about our futures, this had never been part of the conversation. But I felt I had to do it.

I left for basic training on November 15, 2001.

I probably cried every night during the first week, asking myself: “What have I done?”

We were up at 5 a.m. every morning. We’d run two miles, do push-ups and sit-ups, then spend the day learning to march and use our weapons.

The Army breaks you down and rebuilds you into a different person. It was unlike anything I’d experienced before, and I lost nearly 20 pounds during basic training.

I had never held a gun in my life and didn’t come from a hunting family. When I was issued my M16, it was daunting. But I listened, practiced and improved.

By the time I was on active duty, I was an M203 grenadier, trained to fire grenades from my rifle. There were moments when I questioned whether I could do it, but I’d look at the people around me and remind myself: “If they can do it, so can I. This is bigger than me.”

Military service exposes you to experiences that stay with you forever. Some memories haunt you. Others feel surreal because they are so far removed from the life you once imagined.

I remember standing overnight guard duty in a tower in the Jordanian desert on a freezing February night. It was snowing and I was trying to stay warm while holding a weapon loaded with live rounds.

Another vivid memory is from March 20, 2003. I was sitting in a Conex container in the desert watching President George W. Bush announce on a small television that the United States was going to war with Iraq.

We had already arrived in the region by then, having flown over on a huge Air Force transport plane with all our gear.

In Iraq, I served in the XVIII Airborne Air Defense Artillery. Part of my job was ensuring radios worked before troops went out on patrol and while we were on site.

After four years in the Army, I decided it was time to leave. Part of that decision came from the feeling that the deployments no longer aligned with the reasons I had enlisted.

I got married, had children and returned to education, eventually earning both a degree and a PhD in community engagement. I still remember hearing that Osama bin Laden had been killed and feeling proud of the men and women who made it happen.

Although I served honorably, I didn’t identify as a veteran for many years. It wasn’t something I talked about.

Eventually, I realized it was important to share my experience. I spent several years as director of the Office of Veteran Services at the University of Pittsburgh, helping veterans transition from military service into college life.

I also helped connect women veterans across the United States with healthcare services through the Department of Veterans Affairs. It gave me a renewed sense of purpose and service.

That work is also how I met my husband, Lee. He spent eight years in the Marine Corps and worked in outreach for Vet Centers that support combat veterans. At the time, I was leading the Office of Veteran Services at Pitt and our work frequently overlapped. Together, we are raising four children, ages 20, 18, 10 and 5.

I left the University of Pittsburgh in 2022 and later worked as a consultant for the Department of Veterans Affairs.

I now live just outside Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. More recently, I’ve rediscovered my faith and, in the 72 days leading up to Veterans Day, I’ve committed to running at least one mile every day.

But the challenge has become about much more than running. Each day, I share pieces of my story and invite other veterans to share theirs. I’m raising money for organizations that serve the veteran community. Veterans Day is one day, but I believe showing up for veterans should happen every day.

This year, I’ll mark 9/11 with another run before attending a community tribute with my family.

September 11 changed the entire trajectory of my life. My service gave me experiences I’m incredibly proud of and others I’ve spent years learning how to carry. Both are true, and both are part of my story.

Now, more than two decades later, my two oldest children are around the age I was when I enlisted. Looking at them, I realize just how young I was when I made that decision. I was an 18-year-old kid who felt called to serve, without any idea where that decision would take me.

If I could talk to that girl today, I don’t think I’d tell her to choose differently. I’d just tell her that answering that call would become only the first of many times in her life when she’d have to decide to show up.

Contact Newsweek editors on this story: Rebecca Flood and Emma Lee-Sang