I Thought Strength Meant Endurance
From Military Service to Wellness: How I Learned That True Strength Means Taking Care of Yourself
When I was 18 years old, boarding the bus to go to basic training, I didn't have too much on my mind beyond that very moment.
I knew that I could run, do sit-ups, and take orders, but anything outside of that was beyond the scope of the thoughts that crossed my eighteen-year-old mind.
I used to think strength was doing everything everyone else could do, better and longer than they could do it.
That worked for me for a while.
I continued maxing out my PT tests, proving I was a valuable soldier, but I never thought about the repercussions until I faced them.
One time, my platoon and I had to do a 15-kilometer hike, and well into the hike, with all of my gear, under the hot sun, my knee popped. Others heard it and asked if I was okay. Whether I was or wasn't didn't matter because my tolerance for discipline was so high that nothing would stop me from achieving a mission, and that's exactly what happened.
I carried on until we finished the hike, and the moment I let my body stop, I passed out.
I woke up in a hospital bed, immobile and confused.
My problem was never feeling prepared for a mission; it was knowing how to care for my body outside of one.
My Body Changed, So Did the Lessons
What did the service teach me?
The better question is, what didn't the service teach me?
I've been in the military longer than I've been a civilian; many parts of who I am were built there.
I learned discipline, drive, dedication, and determination, traits I'm grateful to possess.
I learned how to eat in a way that works best for my body, although that had less to do with the service itself. I happened to be a soldier when I learned it. Still, I was exerting far more energy day-to-day than I do in retirement, so I learned quickly how much what I ate affected how I felt.
What did the service teach my body?
That I am more than capable of overcoming physically challenging tasks.
Physical fitness and mental fortitude are married; one is constantly informing the other.
And most importantly, I know how to navigate scary and sometimes fatal situations logically. That level of self-trust is something I don't know that I had before the Army.
The old me spent decades climbing the ranks, trying to achieve goals that I had barely seen anyone who looked like me achieve. I'd let her know we did it-and we did it masterfully.
I'd also tell her that it's okay to slow down, not just because she's going to make it to her destination, but because caring for herself is part of getting there.
Sometimes, I wonder what the 30-year-old version of me would say if we were standing eye-to-eye today.
I don't know her exact words, but I know there would be gratitude between us.
I'd thank her for making every decision she made because those decisions are part of the reason Lamisa Wellness Collective exists today.
My wellness journey began during my years in the service, but it took off just after. When I finally had no choice but to slow down, I saw a gap in the wellness space. I didn't see enough conversations addressing people who had spent years serving our country, being away from their families for long stretches of time, and asking extraordinary things of their bodies.
Because of that realization, this wellness journey stopped belonging only to me.
I am so proud of the community we've built because of it.
And The Nourished Almanac is another extension of that work. It's a field guide created to help you understand the foods nourishing the body, carrying you through your own life.
It releases October 1, and I can't wait to finally share it with you.
Until next time, stay rooted. Keep rising!
