Describe a time when you sabotaged your own success.

It was 2013. I moved away from Virginia to New Jersey because I needed to change my circumstances. My daily life at work was miserable, I was coming home - crying - from work on a regular basis, my parents and I were going through another bout of power struggles and my mom kicked me out of her house after I moved in months earlier, escaping an abusive relationship. It was a perfect storm. Moving gave me a chance to start fresh, no drama, no baggage, no one knew me, I could build some new foundations, I could rediscover who I was.

It's funny to me, that billboards are still a thing. And I suppose they worked on my subconscious, because I became obsessed with the Marine Corps. New Jersey had Marine Corps billboards everywhere - The Few. The Proud. Devoted to a Life of Courage. For Honor. For Country. For Our Nation. For Us All. Seeing an opportunity to transform my life, I began my journey to train for Marine Corps Officer Candidate School (OCS).

Unlike other branches, where once you enter the Officer training program, you are considered to be part of that respective military force, in order to become a Marine Officer, you must complete OCS successfully and be commissioned - being accepted into the program alone is not a guarantee to become a Marine Officer. It is highly competitive, many candidates don't get in on their first try, and the amount of people that complete the program is even smaller, with drop rates for females averaging 50%. The odds were against me, but I was determined to give it my best. I saw no other future than success.

Training began. I already had upper body strength from rock climbing for a few years, but to hold a 70 second flexed arm hang is more challenging than it looks. Additionally, women were starting to be evaluated for pull-ups in the Marine Corps, so daily pull-up training became a norm before bed each night. I started out at 1-2 pull-ups, and eventually worked up to a peak 14 dead-hang pull-ups before deployment. My mile was deplorable at first, too. I started out running 9-minute miles, and eventually brought my time down to just barely over 7 minutes per mile for 3 miles. Morning runs, sprints training in the afternoon, distance running at night, and 5Ks on the weekends. Crunches were easy - plenty of ab work over the years made these the child's play aspect of the physical training. Add in every 2-3 weeks an all-day training exercise with dozens of other Marine Officer Candidates at bases up and down the East Coast - I had the physical training pat down.

Physical readiness wasn't enough. The Marines have an annual reading list to learn about history, culture, and character. So, I - the person who detested reading for most of her life - picked up some books and started to read. And it was so inspiring and motivating! I started to enjoy reading for the first time in my life. One of the big takeaways from training I am very grateful for.

The fun part of preparing for OCS was honing in on my range skills. Luckily, enough of my Marine friends had rifles to practice with so I was breaking up endless physical training, reading, and still working full-time with blowing off steam at the long range.

There was one little issue I was working through, which was an old climbing injury that still caused some pain. I fell in a bouldering competition and fractured my fibula and had a lot of soft tissue damage to my right knee that was still bothersome. Six months of physical therapy left me with little improvement, so I took up my friend's advice and saw her physical therapist who helped her after her knee surgery. Lucky me, this PT was also a retired Navy SEAL. In addition to helping me get back to peak physical condition after my injury, he also helped me build my endurance and strength for the task before me, knowing better than anyone else what it would take to make it through those 11 grueling weeks.

All of this preparation took nearly two years... TWO years!

Finally, in the Summer of 2015, I completed my physical fitness test (PFT) for my admission into Marine Corps OCS. The day of was smoldering hot, the three-mile run after the flexed arm hang, pull-ups, and crunches, was brutal. I was the only one doing my PFT that day, and doing it alone was even more challenging without the camaraderie of my fellow OCS candidates. My final score was a 296 out of 300, which was the best I had ever done! And after that boiling day, the long burning wait began.

As many of you know, I did receive a call weeks later with acceptance into Marine Corps OCS and deployment papers to Quantico, VA in September of 2015. All my hard work paid off; I was crying from happiness that I was about to embark on this incredible journey!

I still remember intake like it was yesterday. I heard enough stories and received enough advice that I kept under the radar and did all that was asked of me. Inside, I was buzzing with excitement, because I felt like I really belonged there. I had the knowledge, I had the strength, I had the skills, it all came so easily. As the days progressed, a natural pecking order began to form, and I was near the top out of 65. The Sergeant Instructors ignored me for the most part, so the first few weeks were a breeze. Confident as ever, I did my best to excel and stand out. After all, we were constantly being monitored by Officers from afar as part of our evaluation process.

One day, we went out for a trail run. Virginia is full of hills with gnarly roots - I was used to this as trail running was part of my preparation training. This run wasn't in formation, rather we were able to run freely, with the faster runners in front, and the slower runners in the back. As I got closer to the front of the pack, I stepped funny on a root on an uphill bend in the path. I recovered, but I felt my ankle was unhappy with the step I just took. Finishing that run, I took extra care that night to stretch, foam roll, and treat it the best I could. Most of the running and marching after that was on pavement, so I felt like I was in good shape to continue and wrote it off.

Days later, however, in a downpour of rain, we set out on our first hike. Full pack, full gear, rifle, helmet... it all weighed a good 150 pounds soaking wet, if not more. Our company had done something stupid for which we had to march the four miles in silence - not a word. All one could hear was the deafening roar of the rain, mixed with hundreds of boots shuffling through wet, slippery gravel. This is where that ankle started to annoy me. I took it slow, avoided pushing myself too hard, but the hike was timed, so I did my best to put my head down and follow those in front of me, mindlessly drudging along.

At around mile three - **CRACK** - "Aaaaaah!!!!" Not paying attention, I stepped in a wet divot and my weakened ankle snapped so loud, I was convinced it broke. Those around me looked on in horror. I fell over in sharp pain and instantly it dawned on me - "This was it... I can't recover from this." A medical Humvee took my sobbing pity party to the medical center and I was put on crutches and in a brace. But this isn't the end of my self-sabotage story; it's only the beginning.

"Light Duty Queen" became my name. I was ranked by my peers dead last after being top five. The hazing escalated by the hour it seemed. Inability to do anything because of my injury grew guilt and shame. All of this eroded at my spirit. Watching my peers carry my weight, while cursing me under their breath was demoralizing. I asked to be dropped for medical reasons, but my request was denied. Instead, I was put in a fabric brace and returned to full duty, where my ankle kept giving out and causing pain. My character was eaten away to nothingness.

This is where I sabotaged everything I worked so hard for. During Personal Vehicle Inspection, I used my cellphone to send two texts - one to a friend, and one to my Navy SEAL trainer who was supposed to come to graduation, telling them I wasn't going to be able to finish because of this ankle injury. That was the big no-no; I wasn't supposed to even have my cellphone. I left it in my car because I figured there was no chance that I would get to use it there anyway. Someone saw me send those texts and shared that with the Sergeant Instructors. Those texts were my tickets out of there. But not before a public condemnation in front of the whole company. Everyone knew. I was wearing the scarlet letter as an example to nearly 600 other Officer candidates.

I felt at my lowest for a very long time after that. After being discharged, I had to spend almost a year rehabilitating my ankle injury. I went through months of depression. I felt lost and ashamed. I cried every time I saw anything Marine Corps related. I refused to talk about it, rather just carried that burden with me in silence.

In the grand scheme of things, I suppose everything happens for a reason, because the whole experience taught me countless lessons. I began a journey of self-awareness and growth, took interest in psychology and understanding my behavior and other peoples' behaviors, built leadership skills and became a successful leader at CDW. Also, hindsight 20-20, there are plenty of challenges women face in the military, as highlighted by the Marine Corps sexual harassment scandal not too long ago. So perhaps, it was also a blessing, because my life after that event has been full of incredible achievements and experiences.

It took me a long time to come to peace with my actions. It also helped me realize that... nothing is really that serious, especially two texts. The journey each of us is on unfolds in the most unpredictable ways, and the faster we find acceptance and change direction when we encounter insurmountable resistance in our lives, the easier it is on us and the faster we get to where we are truly meant to be. Everything happens for us; whether to learn a lesson, to have an experience, to witness a blessing. So maybe my self-sabotage was actually my self-assistance to put me on a better aligned path for me. It has taken a long time to see that mistake as something to be grateful for.