Latest / What We Build From Here / The Chapter I Didn't Choose
Transcript
- What We Build From Here Episode 1: Welcome to the first episode, What We Build From Here, from Her Story and Favor Forward Foundation. The first episode is titled The Chapter I Didn' Choose. So welcome to the first episode. I thought about starting this podcast with a polished introduction, my military service, my accomplishments, and all the titles I've carried, but that would only tell you what I've done. It would not explain why I'm so passionate about what happens after life forces you to pivot. So I want to begin with the truth. My name is Amanda, I'm a single mother, a retired Air Force veteran, a breast cancer survivor, a student, and a woman who is still discovering who she is in this chapter of her life. I served in the United States Air Force for 23 years and Two months and eleven days. The military was not simply my job. It was most of my adult life. I built a career there, I grew there, I raised my son while serving, and I learned how to lead, how to adapt, and how to keep going when life did not slow down just because I was tired. As a single mother, I could not afford to fall apart every time life became difficult. Someone still needed me. There were responsibilities at work, responsibilities at home, and goals I was determined to reach. Being strong became part of who I was. But then in twenty twenty one, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Hearing the word cancer attached to your name changes the way you see everything. Life is still happening around you, but suddenly you're thinking about your body, your child, your future, and whether the plans you made will ever have a chance to happen. My treatment included chemotherapy. And a right massectomy. I made it through those parts of cancer treatment, but I'm not finished with treatment. I still receive monthly treatment that, and that does not mean everything has gone back to normal. Even though I'm still going through treatment, I'm speaking from a healed standpoint, and I'm not denying what my body has been through or what I continue to face. I'm choosing to believe that cancer does not have the final word over my life. My healing is still unfolding, but my faith is rooted in what Christ has already done. I am still dealing with what treatment left behind. Chemotherapy affected my heart. I live with neuropathy, chronic fatigue, brain fog, pain, numbness, and other physical limitations. There are things I could once do without thinking that now require more effort, more planning, or help from someone else. That has been difficult for me, because I was used to being the person who handled everything. People hear the word survivor and sometimes they assume the hard part is over. They see that you're alive and expect life to pick up where it left off. But survival does not always return you to the person you were before. Sometimes, survival introduces you to a body you do not recognize, limitations you did not expect. In a future you have to completely reimagine. I am grateful God kept me here. I also have to be honest about what cancer and its treatment changed. Gratitude and grief can't exist in the same place. While I was still trying to understand those changes, I also had to face the end of my military career. And I need to make something very clear. I was not ready to retire. I still had goals. I still had things I wanted to accomplish. I still saw more for myself in the military. I believed I would eventually reach to point where I would know it was time, make the decision for myself, and retire on my own terms. That's not what happened. I didn't get to push the retirement button like everyone else. The decision came through a medical process because my health no longer allowed my career to continue the way I had planned. I officially retired on August 3rd, 2024. I had served more than 23 years and I was proud of that. But I was not emotionally prepared for it to end. People congratulate you when you retire. They talk about how much time you served and how you earned the opportunity to move on. But underneath the congratulations, I was grieving. I was grieving a career I had not finished in my heart. I was grieving goals I still wanted to pursue. I was grieving the woman whose body could keep pushing no matter what was required of her. My military chapter ended before I was ready to close it. Then came the questions that have followed me ever since. Who am I now? Who am I when I no longer put on the uniform? Who am I when the career that shaped most of my adult life is over? Who am I when strength no longer looks like pushing through everything? Who am I when my body requires me to slow down, ask for help, or admit that something is difficult? And who am I when I know I still have purpose, but I cannot yet see the complete picture? That's the in-between. It is a space after the pivot, but before the next chapter fully takes shape. People love to tell you to pivot. Change direction, reinvent yourself, start over, move forward? Or what happens after the pivot? What happens when the change was not your decision? What happens when you were still reaching for goals in the chapter that closed? What happens when everyone else thinks that you have moved on, but you're still trying to understand what you lost? That's the part I want to talk about. I've been trying to find Amanda again. Not Sergeant Johnson, not only the single mother who had kept everything together, not only the woman who had cancer, not only the patient dealing with appointments, medications, symptoms, and the lasting effects of treatment. Amanda, the woman underneath the titles, responsibilities, diagnosis, and expectations. I'm currently completing my degree in business management and human resources. My education is part of what I'm building, but I'm not working towards another career where I spend the rest of my life working for someone else. I don't want to work for anyone ever again. I spent more than 23 years operating within someone else's structure and helping carry out someone else's mission. I'm grateful for everything the military taught me, but this next chapter has to belong to me. I want to build something of my own. I want to create something that brings together my leadership experience, my faith, motherhood, military service, cancer journey, education, and everything I have learned while rebuilding my life. I want freedom over my time and the ability to honor what my body needs now. I want to work to reflect what matters to me. I want to create something meaningful. that can grow beyond me and become part of a legacy I leave for my son. For a while, I thought finding myself meant figuring out what job I should have next. Now I understand that I'm asking a bigger question. What am I supposed to build? I'm no longer trying to fit myself into a position to prove that I still have value. My value did not disappear when I took off the uniform. My purpose did not end because my military career ended differently than I planned. My identity is rooted in Christ, not in a rank, position, diagnosis, or job title. The truth has become even more important because so many things I once used to identify myself have changed. My career changed, my body changed, my health, my daily life, my plans, they all changed. But Christ did not. Philippians one and six says, Being confident of this very thing, that he which have begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Christ Jesus. Jesus Christ. God did not stop working in my life when I medically retired. Cancer did not cancel his purpose for me. And the chapter ending before I was ready did not mean my story was over. I may not understand why everything happened the way it did, but I believe God can use all of it. I'm learning that I do not have to become the woman I was before cancer. I don't have to replace my military career with another job. Just so I can feel accomplished. And I do not have to know every detail of the future before I take the first step. I can honor the woman I was while allowing God to show me who I am becoming. Becoming. That's the word. That's why I'm passionate about this podcast and the larger vision growing from it. I know what it feels like to have a chapter in before you're ready. I know what it feels like to survive something and then realize that survival was only the beginning. I know what it feels like to carry gratitude and grief at the same time. And I know what it feels like to ask God, what am I supposed to do now? This podcast is about what happens after the pivot. We're going to have honest conversations about military retirement, illness, grief, motherhood. Job loss, relationships, financial building, and rebuilding, entrepreneurship, faith, and the process of finding yourself when life no longer looks the way you expect it. This will not be a place where we pretend every new beginning feels exciting because it doesn't. Some chapters begin because we made a brave decision, while other chapters begin because life closed the door while we were still standing in it. Mine began with a door I was not ready to close, but now I have a new decision to make. I could spend the rest of my life only grieving what ended, or I can allow God to use everything I've lived through to rebuild something new. I'm choosing to build. I'm still finding my way. I'm still learning my new limits, and I'm still discovering which dreams belong in this chapter. But I know this I'm not finished. I'm Amanda. I'm a retired Air Force veteran who was not ready to retire. I'm a single mother. I'm a breast cancer survivor who still receives treatment monthly and lives with its lasting effects. But I speak from a healed standpoint. I'm a student. I'm a woman preparing to build something of her own. But most importantly, I belong to Christ. This is not the chapter I would have chosen. But it is the chapter in front of me. And this time, I get to decide what I build on the page. Before we close, I want to leave you with two questions. What chapter of your life ended before you were ready? And what might God be calling you to build from where you are now? This is what we build from here, from her story and favor forward foundation. Until next time, remember. You may not have chosen how the last chapter ended, but with Christ at the center, your story is still being written.