Can I?

I don’t know if I can…

I’ve been planning for my service dog for the past 6 months and now I’m panicking.

Can I do this? Is this the right choice? Am I being selfish? Will Avery be okay? Do I have what it takes? Am I worthy? Will this be a crutch? Will it be worth it? Can I do this?

These questions…constantly swirling in my mind.

I’m terrified.

This dog could either be a beautiful thing or a horrible mistake. Or is there grey area?

Could it be hard but also worth it? Can I make mistakes but not fail? Will Avery be jealous but still be okay?

Am I doing the right thing? Will I ever know? Is this one of those moments where you say you only live once and take the plunge?

Or do you back out knowing logistically it’s a huge commitment?

How do I know which is the right choice?

Am I a bad person for doing this? And am I also a bad person if I back out of doing this?

Are all of these questions my wise mind or are they coming from my insecurities and fear?

The exhaustion, it’s real, it’s here…

I just want the questions, the doubts, the fears to go away…The anticipation is killing me.

A part of me wants to back out and waste away…ohh the anorexia is so appealing right now. She is calling my name and it sounds so sweet.

Can I do this? Should I do this?

Am I changing my life for the better or am I turning down a path of no return?

I’m exhausted…



My Father: The Rapist

Dear Dad,

I’ve thought long and hard about what I would say to you if I had the chance or the courage… And I don’t know that I will ever send these words to you but maybe one day you’ll run across thisĀ letter online and discover the things I’ve wanted to tell you for years…

It’s January 11, 2017 and I’m sitting alone in my apartment that I worked my ass off to achieve by working two jobs and never giving up. I am where I am today because of me, because I have put in the work and fought tooth and nail for a life beyond the crap you gave me. You tried to bring me down, to ruin my life but I made a choice to never let that happen. You will never win. I am successful in my job and at school and I am surrounded by beautiful, loving people who are walking this journey with me.

You lose.

I remember, dad.

I remember the times you tied me to my plastic play slide in the basement so you could rape me. I remember when you would make me undress and take pictures of me in sexual poses. I remember when you threatened to do bad things to my sister if I didn’t comply. I remember you laughing in my face as I cried out in pain. I remember having a knife held to my throat so I wouldn’t move. I remember being pulled down the stairs by my ankles and being raped on the cold, hard tile floor of the kitchen. I remember the weight of your body on top of mine, unable to breathe. I remember your hot breath in my ear. I remember the grimace of pleasure on your face when you saw the fear in my eyes.

I remember.

You never got caught.. but one day the truth will come out and people will know who you really are. You are far too good at getting people to believe that you are a poor father who loves his family and was betrayed and hurt by lies. But one day…one day people will see that you are not who they think you are…

You say you love me but I don’t think you know what that really means..

You say you miss me but I don’t think it’s because you care..

Well I want to say that I do love you..because I know what that really means..and I do miss you.. because I care..People don’t seem to understand how that could possibly be after all you’ve done, but in the end, you are still my father. You still gave me hugs goodbye and came to my ballet recitals. You still played fun games with me and took me to dinner. You are my father…the only one I will ever have and because of that I love you. It’s so painful to think that I may never see you again in this lifetime..

And while all of that is true, it’s also true that I hate that you are my father..I hate who you are and what you’ve done. I hate the confusion you’ve caused me and the pain you’ve inflicted upon me. I hate the lies you’ve told and the games you’ve played with my head. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you…and I hope that I never see you again…

You’ll never see me graduate college or get hired at my dream job, you’ll never meet my husband or walk me down the aisle, you’ll never meet my kids or even know their names…

I hope you are okay..wherever you may be..and I hope you have a nice life…I really do..

I just need you to know I remember.

I remember, dad.






Dear Younger Me…

My younger self is a part of me that I have always had a very hard time connecting with.

I feel like I don’t know that little girl, like she is some person in a far away land I have never met. Yet, she is how I have gotten to where I am today. She has been someone I have despised and hated for a long time. In my mind she is bad, dirty, naughty, selfish, and a liar. I think all these things of her and yet I’m not even sure what she looked like.

I often see young children in public and wonder how old they are because for some reason, my ability to discern ages of children is very skewed. I see a 2-year-old and think they are 4 or I see a 9-year-old and think they are 12. The most plausible explanation I can conjure up is that because I had to grow up so fast when I was little, I never saw myself as a young child and, therefore, can’t discern ages of other children either because to me they all look older than they are.

Any who…my current work lies in finding the key to unlock the cage in which my younger self is trapped. How do I do this? Where do I even begin?

I don’t have the answers yet but if I ever want to really heal the inner workings of who I am I must allow my little girl to have a voice, to be seen, and to be heard by others, but more importantly by me…

Utter Exhaustion

I lie propped up in bed where I’m supposed to be doing homework.

I have reached a place of utter exhaustion. Fighting for your life is exhausting. Especially when it seems the world is fighting against you.

About a little over a month ago I reached a point of giving up. I fell captive to anorexia with hopeless defeat. I plummeted in a matter of a single day. For about 3 weeks I ate little to nothing and starting purging when I felt I’d eaten “too much”. I quickly lost control. My hair started falling out and my blood pressure dropped to 84/51. I lost xx pounds in only a couple weeks. I was weak, I was freezing cold, I was dizzy, and exhausted. I could no longer think clearly. I was a mess.

In the beginning stages of my eating disorder I could go months doing what I can only maintain now for a couple weeks before my body gives out.

I guess after years of abuse, one’s body simply can’t handle what it used to.

I’m fighting to get back on track. I’m eating. I’m not purging.

And it fucking sucks.

All of the reasons I started using behaviors again are slapping me in the face and knocking the wind out of me.

As hard as I try, I feel like I’m fighting again the world.

I’m completely and utterly exhausted. And tonight, the 11 bottles of pills I’ve saved up over the years are looking like a really good option…

The Power of a Moment

Needed this song tonight. Feeling hopeless and broken. Feeling like a burden to those around me and wanting so bad to give up. I wan the pain to be over.

But God keeps me going, and sometimes it is through little things like a song.


Not For a Moment by Meredith Andrews

You were reaching through the storm
Walking on the water
Even when I could not see
In the middle of it all
When I thought You were a thousand miles away
Not for a moment did You forsake me
Not for a moment did You forsake me

After all You are constant
After all You are only good
After all You are sovereign
Not for a moment will You forsake me
Not for a moment will You forsake me

You were singing in the dark
Whispering Your promise
Even when I could not hear
I was held in Your arms
Carried for a thousand miles to show
Not for a moment did You forsake me


And every step every breath You are there
Every tear every cry every prayer
In my heart at my worst
When my world falls down
Not for a moment will You forsake me
Even in the dark
Even when it’s hard
You will never leave me
After all


Not for a moment will You forsake me

The Good ‘Ole Holidays

As I head home for the holidays I am flooded with such a dysfunctional mix of emotions. I love Christmas and I love my family and yet I’m also reminded of my past through every second of these holiday months. The societal emphasis on this season is so great that it only makes memories associated with this time more difficult to combat.

On Thanksgiving I get to remember my brain surgeries and months of hospital stays during my Junior year of high school. I’m also reminded of all the Thanksgivings spent with my family during the years my parents were still together. And yet it doesn’t end there…because these memories aren’t about remembering the joy spent with my family as a child but rather the constant fear I lived in for 17 years.

Then on Christmas I get a bit of a continuation of these family memories, except now I am remembering a time of year that was the most grand of all growing up. We always went all out: tons of presents, lots of decorations, church, music, baking, everything you can think of to describe the Christmas season.

I’ve always loved Christmas. It is my favorite holiday and it holds a special place in my heart because of our family traditions, but also because of my beliefs. Christmas is a day when I get to celebrate the birth of my Savior. My Savior whom one day will save me from the torture of this world and of the memories that have taken up permanent residence in my mind.

So as I head home, I am so utterly excited to celebrate and also horribly scared of the memories and emotions associated with the holidays.

I head home to a place that is home to my mom and sister (and therefore home to me) but also home to my father, which makes me want to vomit from anxiety. So these are my dilemmas and one’s I’ve been battling for quite a while, and yet no one would ever know…

Internal Demons

You know when you are lying in bed at night, lights out, thoughts racing, and you can feel the flood gates locked, the tears that need to be released so desperately it hurts, but somehow the gate keeper is no where to be found to unlock the gate?

You can feel it behind your eyes, in your throat, the tightness in your chest, the ache all the way down to your toes?

It hurts, it’s painful and you lie there wondering how to possibly let out what has been kept locked inside for decades. Is it possible?

You go to work each day, you do what is required to make it through but behind it all, you are dying inside. And nobody knows because you are so damn good at putting on a face of joy, laughter, and love. You go to work and try your damn best to put a smile on others’ faces, and yet you can’t even do that for yourself.

Behind all the laughter and jokes you spend hours in therapy, reliving what has happened to you, so that maybe one day it won’t haunt you and ruin your life. So maybe one day you can live an okay life (dare I say a good life).

I think what is more painful is holding it all inside while you go through the motions of life, with each person passing you by with no idea what demons you are facing inside. No one will ever know.

You really never know what someone is going through. I don’t care how rude or disrespectful someone may be, all I can think about is how much pain they must be going through.

Every day I spend hours making people coffee, smiling, asking them how they are doing, thanking them, and wishing them a good day. Hundreds of people. Hundreds. Including those I work with. And none of them will ever know what I am going through. THAT is painful.

I don’t even know if I can explain why that piece of it is so hard but it is and I know that anyone who has ever gone through a trial in life understands the pain of holding the weight of something so painful while also having to pretend it doesn’t exist in order to do what needs to be done.

The pain is immense. And sometimes I fear it will never go away.