I can't stay in forever.

That's really what it comes down to. I've spent 18 years channeling my desire to help others, my need to be a part of something bigger than myself, and my drive to challenge myself into my military and health care careers. It's been an amazing ride. It's been beautiful and brutal. The phrase "blood, sweat, and tears" is over-used in this line of work, but it's nonetheless accurate. I can't say I've enjoyed every moment, but I've certainly appreciated it.  The Army has provided me with adventure and travel, with hardship and growth, with an education, and, at the end of the day, with my family. The medical field has shoved me into close proximity with the best and worst that life can hand out.

But the fact remains: I cannot do this forever. Whether I am talking about the military, or my time on the ambulance, I am talking about a young persons game. The physical demands start to wear on you. The hours wear on your family life. The emotional toll can, if anything, be worse. Eventually, wanting the best for the profession means figuring out when to walk away. I eased my way out of health care; using the birth of my third child as a reason to stop working. I hadn't had the luxury of staying home with the older two, so I jumped at the chance to do so with the last two. Watching my husband go in for his 12 hour nursing shifts, day after day, helped me realize I did not want to be doing that anymore. I'd been planning on nursing school since I was three years old. It took a lot to let that dream go, but I had other things to focus on. Child number 4 followed closely behind number 3.

As my youngest got older, I realized I was approaching a turning point. Just about the time I waved her off to kindergarten in a big yellow school bus, I would also be submitting my retirement paperwork to the SD Army National Guard. What on earth was I going to do with myself? I hadn't anticipated being in my late 30's, and trying to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up! I had no idea where to start, so I did what any modern woman would do: I crowd-sourced it.

Okay, that's not entirely accurate. What I actually did was start talking to friends, colleagues, and military mentors. One of them asked me "Think about what you do now. What is your favorite part of it? What is the part you never get tired of? And how can you make that a career?" The first two questions were easy: I love teaching the Army's Resiliency Program. Its an undervalued program, designed to teach soldiers how to better function under stress by identifying their values, their thinking traps, their confirmation biases, and their strengths. Presented in the right way, it can be life changing. Presented in the wrong (and more typical) way, and it's just another "death by PowerPoint" briefing the leadership needs to check off the list four times a year.

The final question was the kicker: How do I make this a career? I agonized over ideas: corporate speaking, becoming a teacher, digging up some sort of civilian contracting job that would keep me working with soldiers...none seemed like quite what I was looking for. Brainstorming with friends one lunch hour, one of our officers, a Major, came up behind me. "You know," she said, "It sounds like you should really look into becoming a social worker. That's what I got my degree in, and if you want to have that kind of direct impact on people's lives, it's the best way to go."

That kicked off a two hour conversation (which probably meant that somewhere a higher ranking person than me was sitting at a desk, not getting paperwork they needed, and cursing my name), months of online research, and a college application mailed in on a whim. I didn't start panicking until the acceptance letter arrived; I had literally paid off the last of my student loans two weeks prior. More online research led to another application; this one to the Veteran's Administration's Vocational Rehab Program. By some miracle, I walked into a meeting two days prior to registration day...and five days before the first day of classes, and walked out with an education plan that funded my education through my Master's of Social Work.

Now I sit in a desk, surrounded by fellow students the same age as my oldest son. The same age as the young soldiers I lead. Part of me want to call them kids. Part of me had to remind myself that so many of the soldiers we lost in Iraq and Afghanistan were no older than they are. Leadership taught me that people tend to reach your expectations, so it's best to set them high. While an abundance of life experience tends to come in handy, most of these fresh-out-of-high-school college students are better prepared for the university than I am. Hopefully we all have something to learn from each other.