For some people, time stopped on Sept. 11, 2001.
For others the day remains a blur.
At the time I was working for a residential treatment center in Rochester, New York.
One of my staff said, Hey, there was an airplane accident in New York City.
Planes don’t come in that way.
I was watching the live news feed when I saw the second plane slam into the second tower.
At that moment, I said to myself, Things are getting ready to change forever.
I knew something serious was going on.
For me, 9/11 was one of those pivotal moments in life.
In 2003, I enlisted in the Army.
It wasn’t from the perspective of: I want to go be some hero.
It was more from the perspective of: It’s my turn.
I’m probably the seventh or eighth person in my family to serve in the military.
The day before my 35th birthday, I signed my contract.
I came into the military as an intelligence analyst.
I served with the 10th Mountain Division in the U.S. Army.
One part of our division went to Iraq.
My brigade went to Afghanistan.
We had great missions, we worked with international forces, we supported special operations and combat operations.
My career was cut short because I had several injuries.
My options were to get a different job and go to a different unit, or to medically retire.
I chose to medically retire.
I think it’s the greatest thing I have ever done.
It came with a price, but I view my country differently because of the opportunity to serve.
I sent out resumes to every potential Tucson, Arizona, employer in my field.
On Sept. 11 I had three interviews scheduled.
My husband was away on a work assignment that week, which was normal.
I rose early, went for my morning swim and came inside to get dressed.
I’d barely dried off when the phone rang.
“I think you’re gonna wanna turn on the TV, my dad said.
I did, and watched dramatic footage of the twin towers in flames.
After 10 minutes, I glanced at the clock.
I had my first interview in an hour and a half.
I decided I had to.
It wouldn’t look good to be a no-show.
Something felt very, very wrong.
My first stop was in downtown Tucson.
The subsequent interview was more about the tragic events unfolding that day than my qualifications.
The next interview was a lunch meeting.
Again, the interview had little to do with the job.
My potential employer filled me in on the events I’d missed since I’d left my house.
After the final interview at 2 p.m.
I headed home, feeling as though the world had stopped and would never start again.
I didn’t land any of those positions, but in November I did finally find a job.
