Midway through that deployment, a brigade commander pulled me off the line and made me his driver and personal security detail. With his guidance, I applied to Officer Candidate School and was accepted. Twelve weeks after the completion of my first deployment, I was a commissioned officer, formally charged with the care and wellbeing of my fellow soldiers. 

When I returned to Afghanistan with the 173rd Airborne Brigade, it was as a Second Lieutenant. I had earned the respect of the junior soldiers, who appreciated that I had been one of them, as well as of the commanders, who recognized my prior service and unique perspective. On that second deployment I was responsible for setting up an aid station on a forward operating base; we were the first level of care for soldiers who had been injured and needed medical attention. I worked alongside countless men and women whose lives had been changed forever, and it took a heavy toll on me.

A few years later, my mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Her final wish was for me to leave the military. She could see that I had been changed, permanently. She was right. While I’d survived my deployments, I didn’t realize that my struggle was just beginning.

As I transitioned out of the military, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. My anxiety was unbearable. I began drinking heavily to self-medicate. I attempted suicide, twice. Deep down I knew that I didn’t want to end my life, but I was suffering and felt as though I didn’t have anyone in my corner. I had lost my mother, and I badly needed help. I overcame nearly four years of serious depression, first through bicycle racing and later through motorsport. The focus and discipline required was just the outlet I needed. It also served as a way to honor my mother — and to honor my younger self. This was no longer just a childhood dream, I was determined to make this my new reality.