BACK HOME: A JOURNEY OF HEALING AND ADVENTURE 

My Journey:
From Overdrive to Resilience

Hi, I’m Sarah Moore,

Let me take you back to a time when my life was running on full throttle, yet everything seemed to be falling apart. I enlisted in the Army in 2002 as a truck driver, slowly working my way up through college to become a Blackhawk pilot.

I’ve endured multiple deployments, served as a platoon leader, and eventually commanded an Air Assault Company. I was also a Federal Air Marshal, engaged in world-wide counterterrorism operations and training others in firearms, tactics, physical fitness and emergency medical response.

On paper, I was thriving. But underneath, my world was crumbling.

The turning point came during a seemingly routine training exercise—a simulated helicopter crash, known as dunker training, where you’re submerged in water and forced to escape.

For a pilot, it’s just another drill. But for me, that day, my nervous system hit its breaking point. I had a full-blown panic attack right there, underwater, in front of my peers. I was a Soldier, a leader, someone who was supposed to have it all together. But my body and mind had other plans.

Looking back, the signs were all there. My back pain from deployment had left me numb, literally, with shooting pains and spasms that no amount of prescription painkillers could fix. I was juggling the intense demands of an aviation captain’s career course just months after returning from Operation Iraqi Freedom, without giving myself time to transition back to civilian life. And to top it off, I was stuck in a toxic, abusive marriage, isolated and unable to share my struggles.

That panic attack wasn’t just an embarrassing moment; it was my body’s way of screaming for help.

I realized then that "suck it up and drive on", a motto we live by in the military, was slowly killing me. I was compartmentalizing my pain, taking on everyone else's problems, and pushing my own to the back burner. I was running on fumes, over-caffeinated, overworked, and completely disconnected from any semblance of a balanced life.

It wasn’t until my nervous system forced me to stop that I understood the importance of rest, recovery, and self-care. Ignoring the problem wasn’t just dangerous—it was a direct path to burnout, depression, and worse.

My 2009 was like the world’s 2020—a year where everything that could go wrong, did. But it also marked the beginning of a journey.

A journey to understand the very stress and trauma that had nearly consumed me, and to learn how to heal, how to rebuild, and how to help others do the same.