Walking into drill practice one Monday morning during my Junior year, I was nervous. The previous Friday, our Air Force Junior ROTC (JROTC) team had been told that team captains would be announced. Now that the time had come, I felt a pit in my stomach. Walking up the already long staircase to the gym felt like an eternity. It only got worse with every step. I didn’t desperately want to be captain in order to lead a team, or tell people what to do, it meant something more to me, it meant proving something to myself.

Three years earlier, during my freshman year, I joined JROTC. My mom made me join. I didn’t mind the program; overall it seemed pretty good from the outside, but due to some of the rules, I was hesitant and at first resistant. For one, I had to cut my hair. I loved my hair, it was curly all around and very bulky. Cutting it made me bitter. Then there was the uniform: the coat looked stiff and bulky, the shoes uncomfortable. In JROTC, there are different drill teams, including a team that marches and performs with replica rifles. I joined this team because my brother was on it and left early for practice. If I wanted a ride to school, I needed to be on the team with him. I went to practice, competed at meets, and even enjoyed it a little.

Sophomore year wasn’t kind to me. My brother had graduated and his leaving for college made me lose the motivation to go to drill practice every morning. I stopped going. For a number of reasons, I became very isolated from my old friends. My class grades were slipping, I stopped caring about school and everything going on around me. For a while I didn’t feel anything--not sad, or anger, or any stronger emotion, just empty. During this time that I needed support I ended up feeling the most alone.

I had seen what depression had done to others, saw how others got trapped in depression. I didn’t want that outcome for me. I was going to do something about my situation, whether I had people to support me or not. I had enjoyed the drilling, and it was a team setting. That's why I decided to devote my energy to the drill team again.

Late December of my sophomore year I started to attend ROTC drill practices again. Re-joining was difficult, but I wanted to push myself, to stay away from the empty feelings and from feeling sorry for myself.

As time went on and I practiced more, things got easier, and I even started to get rewarded for the work I was putting in. My instructor came up to me during practice, a few months later. He told me that if I continued to improve he could see me taking a team commander spot. This really pushed me to continue.

Junior year and I hit the ground running with some of my closest friends. I was doing all my work and my grades reflected this fact, my girlfriend pushing me harder than before to improve myself in all facets of life. Drill practice was very upbeat and I now loved getting up every morning to practice, excited to improve.

Then came that Monday morning in the middle of October, walking up the staircase felt like an eternity. The pit in my stomach growing with every step. This is all I had been waiting for, to prove to myself that I was strong enough to push myself even in the hardest moments. Then  my instructor read off the captain’s names: “The armed team’s first captain is,” he paused, my heart dropped as I waited. “Joshua.”

I got the spot that I had invested months into practicing for. From being off the team and being at the lowest point in my life, to picking myself up and committing myself to improve on the drill team, it all felt worth it hearing my name called as captain, because I knew I had earned it.

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