Growing up in a military family isn’t always what you see in the movies. At least not for me.

My dad was a marine, and so was his brother. Their dad was in the army and so were all of his brothers. My dad’s mother wasn’t in the military but all of her brothers were.

When I was in the sixth grade, my cousin enlisted in the marines. My brother is the only living man in my family who did not serve at some point in his life. Not because he strived to break the tradition or because he was scared. Instead, he’s a doctor, so props to him!

It’s a different lifestyle when every man in your life has served in the military, not as a full-time career but as a four to six-year service. I didn’t grow up moving from state-to-state and I never had to worry about my dad being shipped off to war. However, I was raised with the same military mentality that was instilled in each of them.

You’re taught to be tough. You’re taught to have the ability to stand on your own and know how to do basically every task this world has to offer. You never slack and critical thinking skills are important.

My dad won’t admit it but although these are his true values, the military enhances your survival skills and minimizes your tolerance for minute problems.

My father, although a very loving man, never once treated me as “daddy’s little princess.” There was a time in my life when I was a child that he would ask, “have I told you I love you today?” That was about as much of a princess as I ever felt.

Instead, I was taught to be tough and work for what I want. Not a single person on this Earth is responsible for taking care of me and the only man I should put my faith in, is God.

I remember when I broke up with my first boyfriend of two years and was pretty devastated. Instead of accepting that I was sad and wanted to cry it out for a month, I was reminded that if you’re going to cry, do it once and give the rest to God.

Worrying and being sad was pointless because thinking about anything other than your goal, is what will get you killed. For the common person, that meant dying on the inside.

My father’s most famous piece of advice is to “wake up in the morning and tell yourself, ‘I am number one.’” I have never relied on any other person for happiness, love or security.

Being a girl with no sisters in a family of military men, I have never been able to form those Pinterest friendships with girls.

I was always the odd ball out because I didn’t get super dressed up, didn’t really care if my hair was in place and to be honest, I didn’t even know how to draw in my eyebrows until college. I never showed signs of pain or heartbreak as I knew that there were more important things in life to be sad about.

When you’re raised around desensitized men, you quickly learn the difference between small and large issues.

Obviously, with all of the men I love being Marines, that means I was taught how to shoot at a very young age.

Every Thanksgiving and Christmas (that wasn't unbearably cold) was interrupted by someone (I really mean everyone) taking it upon their self to teach me how to aim. I'm the youngest in the family and I am legally blind, so I think they each took it as a personal challenge to "raise me right."

As the years passed, I am now the proud owner of 20/20 vision and (almost) the best shot in the family.

Rather than being persuaded to graduate college with a new car, I am being persuaded by an AR-15. Yes, my father couldn't be more proud that I am pushing myself to do my best so that I can keep deer hunting with my favorite gun.

I’ve seen my dad accept recognition for his service only once. It was my senior year of high school and I begged him to attend at least one Veteran’s Day ceremony before I couldn’t participate in anymore. He’s never used his military discount and never once asked anyone to thank him for his service.

Instead, he has humbled himself by reminding himself that he volunteered; no one made him enlist. His mentality has always resonated me as it taught me that you are the decider of how you chose to live your life. Being recognized means nothing if you’re doing something that you love.

It’s a different life when you’re raised by barbarians. I say that jokingly, but seriously they can go from refined to savage in .2 seconds.

Being the baby and the only girl, I am constantly reminded about the ever-so-famous "fight or flight" rule. But when you come from a family of fighters, flight is never really an option.

In the words of every man in my family, "You can shoot a gun faster than you can call the cops." I’ve learned to take care of myself and to focus on what I have control of and to lessen my worries.

I wouldn’t trade it for the world.