That belief led her into the United States Air Force, where she served for 13 years, rising to the rank of Major and carrying on a family legacy of military service that began with her father. It continued through deployments, long days, and the quiet responsibility of wearing the uniform with pride. 

Even today, her oldest daughter serves in the military, and Rebecca hopes her younger children will grow up understanding the same commitment to giving back.

There’s no doubt that service shaped her life. It also changed it forever.

During a deployment to Iraq in 2008, Rebecca experienced events that still echo through her life today. Some memories remain vivid, while others have disappeared altogether. Like many Veterans, she carries wounds that aren't visible to anyone passing by. 

A traumatic brain injury and post-traumatic stress disorder followed her home, ultimately leading to a medical discharge in 2020 after 13 years of service. What remained wasn't something a stranger could recognize at first glance.

"You don't know anyone's story unless you ask," Rebecca said. "I look really good on paper. I look healthy. But I'm a dying mess inside."

That disconnect has become one of the hardest parts of civilian life.

People often assume Veterans receive every resource they need, especially when there aren't obvious physical injuries. Rebecca has discovered that reality is far more complicated.

She has spent years navigating paperwork, searching for nonprofits, trying different treatments, and advocating for care that insurance simply won't cover. Every step has required persistence, even while living with conditions that make persistence incredibly difficult.

The injuries she carries affect nearly every part of her day.

Sleep rarely comes easily. Four hours has become a good night. Chronic migraines return without warning. Driving triggers intense anxiety, so her husband often takes the wheel while she often fights through flashbacks from the passenger seat. Simple errands require planning, and ordinary routines can become overwhelming before the day has even begun.

The effects reach far beyond physical symptoms, too.

Rebecca describes memory as something that slips away in both small and significant moments. Sometimes she'll walk into a room and forget why she's there. Other times she'll drive past her destination without realizing it because her brain has drifted somewhere else entirely. Her children will laugh about a family memory, only to discover she can't remember it at all.

"Maybe it was a fun day," she said. "I actually don't remember."

Living with PTS has also made emotional regulation incredibly difficult. Rebecca says she often feels constantly on alert, waiting for something to happen. That heightened state can turn into overwhelming anger within moments, making public places exhausting and relationships difficult to maintain. Instead of risking conflict, she frequently isolates herself, choosing loneliness because it feels safer than the alternative.

"I know if I don't protect myself," she explained, "I'm going to be fighting someone."

It isn't the life she wants for herself or for her family.

Despite every challenge, Rebecca hasn't stopped looking for ways to heal. She has tried therapy, treatments, medications, and emerging technologies, always hoping to find something that helps without taking away the parts of herself she still wants to hold onto. As the mother of two young children, she doesn't want to spend her days sedated by medications that leave her feeling disconnected from the people who matter most.

Then another veteran introduced her to Hyperbaric Oxygen Therapy (HBOT).

Through a nonprofit, Rebecca received 40 HBOT sessions, and for the first time in years, something changed.

She began sleeping through the night. Her migraines disappeared during treatment. Her thoughts felt clearer. Her mood softened. Everyday forgetfulness became less overwhelming, and she caught glimpses of a version of herself that had felt out of reach for years.

"The sleep was hands down the best part," she said. "I felt like something was healing inside of me."

When the treatments ended, those gains slowly faded. The insomnia returned. So did the anxiety, migraines, emotional outbursts, and isolation. The experience didn't leave Rebecca discouraged. Instead, it showed her what consistent access to therapy could mean.

A home HBOT chamber would remove one of her biggest barriers to treatment. She wouldn't have to endure the anxiety of driving across town before every session. She could use the therapy consistently, when she needs it, from the safety of home. Most importantly, it would give her the opportunity to continue pursuing the progress she has already experienced.

Thanks to the incredible generosity of the Chive Charities community, Rebecca received a $7,268 grant to purchase a home HBOT. Every restful night, every meaningful memory she gets to hold onto, every moment that feels a little calmer, and every glimpse of joy that finds its way back into her life is a reminder that healing is rarely about returning to who you once were.

Maybe it's about becoming someone who gets to remember the bedtime stories, the wrestling tournaments, the car rides, the laughter, and all the ordinary moments her children will one day treasure most.

Rebecca spent 13 years serving our country. Today, thanks to this incredible community, she has one less battle to fight alone. Join us in celebrating Rebecca and the life-changing impact your generosity made possible, then help us continue saying "yes" to more veterans, first responders, and families facing extraordinary medical challenges. DONATE HERE.