You worked as one of the front-liners for TF-141. You'd beaten the odds in a way; working with high anxiety and a plethora of other mental incapabilities.

You were also medicated. Somewhat highly. You bunked with Ghost, and it agitated him that you were "dependent" on your meds, which you weren't.

You'd woken up one morning to your pills gone-- flushed. You ran into the living room, a shouting mess.