Just Being Myself

 As I type this I'm not sure if, or when I’ll be ready to hit that button to share our story with the world.  It is currently July 29, 2021. We have officially been trying to conceive for almost two months now. (Well, I’ve been trying… my husband is still in the whole “leave it up to fate” mentality.) Trust me, I know that this is a short and minuscule amount of time in the TTC community. But, I also feel like that shouldn’t invalidate my feelings about our journey so far. As soon as my husband and I started dating I knew that I wanted to start a family with him. Before we were even officially engaged I had made a game plan with my OBGYN to remove my IUD at my next yearly follow up appointment the following December. I knew my body needed to detox from the years of having the IUD in place and figured this would give us a good six months or so before we were ready to start actively trying.  That marked our starting point on this uphill battle. My appointment got pushed bac...

Trigger Warning: This article deals with topics of sexual assault  April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month, and this month is a special month for me. Coming up this May marks a milestone I'd never thought I'd need to mark. May 3rd marks the anniversary of my rape. It will be 8 years this year since that day. When I first started to process my trauma, I felt the need to shout it from the rooftops and demand that everyone hear my story. I even shared it  here on this blog.  I was angry, I was hurting, most importantly I was scared and confused. I claimed I didn't want the attention I was getting from this post. I didn't want the praise and comments saying how strong and brave I was... but deep down, I really craved that validation. I was branding myself as the victim/survivor, and I was building my identity as the girl who was raped. Looking back at the girl who was hurting and demanding to be heard, my heart aches for her. I have come so far since the girl who wrote that...

Hello Again! Has it been the hottest of seconds since I have posted on here! And wow what a difference nearly 4 years can make. If you had asked me 12 months ago if I thought there would be a shiny new ring on my finger, and that my heart would be so full of love and joy again... I 110% would've called you insane, told you that nobody would ever want this mess and that it doesn't matter because I am taking the year to focus on myself. I truly believed that statement until Ryan came along. Ryan and I go way back. In 2011, I moved from my small performing arts high school to the scary new world that was Pine View High School. Joining Band and Theater classes were no question to me, and so into the arts I went. I played the flute, he played the saxophone. We started talking but the butterflies never hit me. Then Junior year started that August and Ryan joined my theater class. Something about that boy joining the thespian ranks made me fall hard and fast into a schoolgirl crush...

Picture this if you will. Picture a seventeen-year-old girl curled up in her bed sobbing those gut wrenching sobs, the kind that rub your throat raw. Picture her trying to calm herself down, telling herself everything is going to be okay. Picture her telling those voices in her head that they were wrong. The depression didn’t scare him away. Picture her convincing herself that the boy she’d been dating for the past two and a half months, the one who just broke her heart, hadn’t raped her. That he wasn’t using her just for sex. That he really loved her and that he would come to his senses and they’d be together again. Do you see it? Picture that same girl three years later. She’s tried to pick up the pieces of what that boy did. She’s tried living a normal life, and failed. She’s seen countless guys up and leave once they find out she’s a rape victim. Picture that girl trying to keep the tears from falling every night, because not only does she have depression but now she has the tit...

Happy Thanksgiving! So I just wrote a post on my DCP blog  here  about what I'm thankful for, but I wanted to do one on here that wasn't as Disney related. I have so much to be thankful for. I am thankful for my wonderful family. Next week I will get to see my dad's parents as well as my biological father, Jeff, and my brother and sister. They're coming up to see me perform in Dicken's Festival. I seriously couldn't have asked for a better family. My parents have been amazing. They're letting me live with them to save money for the Disney College Program. Throughout my entire life I've never had a support system better than that of my mom and dad. It's going to be so weird not to have them right up the road when I'm living in Florida, but my mom is constantly reminding me I'm doing what's best for my future and it's her words of support that help me when I'm second guessing my choice. I am also so incredibly thankful for m...

So a few weeks ago I applied for the Disney College Program. It's an amazing opportunity and I did a post on that  here.  Well I was checking my email the other day and I saw this beautiful message: I am beyond ecstatic to announce that I will be attending the Disney College Program for the Spring Advantage 2016. It was not an easy decision, but I know that if I turn this down I will regret it for the rest of my life. I can't wait to see what this experience has in store for me. In less than four months I will be working for one of the most magical places on earth. I feel incredibly blessed and lucky that everything worked out in the end.

When I auditioned for Fiddler on the Roof at a local theatre here in town, I never thought that I could get cast in the children's show Bridge to Terabithia. Imagine my surprise when I was approached by the director to be an understudy for Miss Edmunds, as well as an Assistant Stage Manager. I eagerly agreed, and thus began one of the craziest summers I've experienced so far. While I was disappointed to have not made it into Fiddler , I am so thankful to have been given the opportunity to have worked on Bridge to Terabithia. Because it is a children's show, most of the roles were double cast meaning we have two closing nights. Tonight was the final performance ever of Bridge to Terabithia  at Brigham's Playhouse. Closing night is always a bittersweet feeling. I'm anxious to move on to the next show, or to even have a break from shows and have a chance to breathe for a little while before jumping into the next production. But on the other side of that, I'm nev...

So about two months ago, I started looking into attending the Disney College Program. What the Disney College Program is a chance for college students to take the semester and go to either Walt Disney World  Resort in Florida or Disneyland in California and do an internship. This is a great opportunity, and it's piqued my interest. I'm a huge Disney fan, I love everything that Disney is. I would give anything to work for one of the most magical companies out there. I've been reading blogs and watching YouTube videos and with each new view I get more and more excited for when my turn comes. I've decided that I will most likely do the program in the fall of 2016, due to conflicts with school. I'm Assistant Director for one of the shows we're doing in the spring and I'm working under one of my favorite professors, an experience that I am beyond ecstatic for. Not only that, but I'll finally have my Associate's Degree this spring. I've put graduating ...

It's been a while since I've posted but there's something I just can't seem to shake off my mind. When I first  broke the silence regarding my rape,  I thought I was strong enough to share my story. That thought was quickly turned down three days later when I had a level 10 meltdown, I couldn't speak, it was hard to breathe and the tears were horrible, genuinely nasty sobs that choke your throat and leave your face covered in snot. The suffocation continued to grow worse until I finally wrote a letter  to my rapist  and let my relief come through my writing as it always has. In the months since these posts I like to think I've grown and learned more about myself through these experiences. I'm slowly starting to find my voice again. I'm no longer afraid to tell my story to others, in fact I'll gladly share it with anyone who asks and even those who probably could've carried on their lives never knowing that information. I'm still nervous to sh...

I can't help but wonder if you think about me. I wonder if you've heard about me coming clean, if the thought terrifies you as much as it did me. I wonder if you know what you did was wrong or if you're still in denial, or maybe you honestly don't believe what you did was rape. I'm glad you're gone, that I never have to see you. I like not knowing when you come to town. But on the flip side of that, I never know. If I'm out shopping and I see someone who looks like you I panic. The anxiety builds and I'm frozen with terror. My heart races and I hurry to control my frantic breathing, to mask to the world around me that I'm ten seconds away from a massive panic attack. When you ended up at the same restaurant as my family and me, I refused to move from my table and chose to stay safe behind the wall dividing us. I forgive you. I really do, but that doesn't mean I ever want to see your face again. That doesn't mean I can't still be angry. I...

Depression sucks. It's one of those things that I don't think you can ever fully understand until you've been through it. That's how it was for me. I could never understand how someone could do that to themselves and those around them. I can't really tell you when or why my depression hit me, all I know is it did. I can't describe it, I've tried and every time the sentence gets deleted. I can tell you this: it's a horrible disease. It's the kind of thing where I want people to notice that I'm not okay but at the same time I don't want them to ask me if I'm okay because I don't want to lie to them and say I'm okay when I'm really not. Depression sucks. On one hand, I want to go out with friends and be social. I want to go to rehearsals and get involved. I want to interact with people, I really do. Instead I stay at home in bed with Gilmore Girls and Facebook. I shut people out and it kills me. I have no idea why this happens i...

Rape culture in today's society makes me so incredibly furious. Even before I was raped I couldn't stand it. Since my rape, I hate even more. Rape is never the victim's fault. As a victim, I'd like to believe that myself. But here's the truth: thanks to rape culture I believe that what happened to me is all my fault. That I am the only one to blame for what happened. Thanks to rape culture I feel even worse about that night. You see rape culture teaches us that it's the girl's fault if a girl wears a skirt that's too short, if she flirts with a boy, if heaven forbid she was drinking, if she's wearing too much makeup, the list goes on an on. Just because I chose to wear that adorable new dress I bought that day for our date, (a dress that isn't any way shape or form immodest) because I chose to be alone with someone I trust and let them kiss me, it's my fault I was raped? That doesn't make any sense. No means no. I said no, he didn't...

I was raped. That never gets easier to say. I was raped. A year and a half ago, I was madly in love with a boy I thought I was going to marry and he raped me. We were on a date, things were going fine until he crossed a line. I told him no, I said stop. He eased off only to try again. This time I made the move to leave. He wouldn't let me leave. I wish I would've fought harder, jumped out of that truck and ran, even though we were literally in the middle of nowhere. I didn't though, and even if I had I don't think my story would be different. I would still have been raped, just in a different time and place. He was controlling. He wanted what he wanted and refused to take no for an answer. I was naive and believed deep down that I saw some good in him. I wish I could say that I left him after that night. That I told my mom and reported him to the police. Sadly, that was not the case. I was in denial, I was trying to tell myself that I wasn't raped. I didn't fig...

So I'm a Theatre Major, right? And part of being a Theatre Major is getting involved with shows. Last show I was a dresser and that was interesting. I basically helped the actors get ready, made sure costumes looked good. When the show was over for the night I helped to spray the costumes so they didn't stink, cleaned the dressing rooms and washed the articles of clothing that had to be washed. This experience helped me gain so much respect for the dresser's position. But that's not really what this article is about. Every semester we do two shows. A straight play, which is just acting no big huge musical numbers, and a musical. Our straight play was Much Ado About Nothing. I'd auditioned for the show but wasn't cast, hence why I was a dresser. Our musical was originally going to be Coram Boy , however the director felt he had taken on too much and decided to pull the plug on Coram Boy . Amadeus  was chosen as our second Fall production. Two problems came up w...

So it's been forever since I've posted on here. Life's been crazy. I was hanging out with my friends last night, one of which included my crush from Sophomore year in high school. I can't help but think about how happy Sophomore Becca would've been to see that I was hanging out with the boy who was my obsession for a good chunk of Sophomore year. The whole experience got me to thinking, what would I say to my younger self if I could go back in time? I know I've done a post like this last year with Dear 16 Year Old Me , but that was over a year ago and things have changed. So here are 40 things I wish I'd known when I was 15. Stop taking things way too personally. Yes, you're going to get lied to and cheated on (Senior year, it sucks but you move on) you'll feel betrayed by those who are closest to you. Don't let that ruin your friendships. Just let things go, everybody makes mistakes and forgiveness is a trait you need to learn. Don't be a...

A year ago I was certain that when I officially graduated out of the youth group at my church that I would become a statistic... you know one of the 72% or something like that of teens who leave the church after graduating high school. I had absolutely no reason to continue going to church after that. My parents wouldn't care, I'd had a feeling they were unhappy with our church anyways. Then I was approached by one of the leaders over the middle school ministry and he told me that he thought I would be a great asset to the program and he'd love to have me as one of the assistants. I told him that I would pray about it and see. A few days later I felt that I had to do this. I wanted to make a difference and this was a great way to do so. After that last summer camp, I joined the High Tides ministry and found myself growing attached to the kids up there. I've loved every second that I've been involved up there with the middle schoolers. I've formed bonds with se...

Hi Matt, Wow. You've been gone for five years now. It feels like you left us not so long ago. I struggled with your loss for a while. You were my first major experience with death. I was thirteen and not sure what to do. I remember seeing your mom torn to pieces over losing you. She was crying over your casket and wouldn't let them lower you down, she didn't want to say goodbye. I didn't learn how you died until about two years after you died. My mom told me it was suicide and that Stephanie blames herself. I was pissed. I couldn't believe you would be so heartless. I wanted to go out to your gravesite and yell at you. I wanted to scream and kick your headstone, to pound the ground by your grave. You killed your mother inside when you did that. You hurt us all. I didn't think I would ever forgive you for that. And then my own depression hit me. I wanted to kill myself, but never could go through with it because I thought of your suicide and the effect it had on...

Dear God, I am mad at you. There I said it. I am angry with you! I know that you love us and that you do everything in order to make us the best person possible but I am still furious. I'm only eighteen, so why do I know so much loss? Every time I tell myself it's okay and move on, another person is gone. I just don't get it! I look back to July and losing Ron. I was totally numb, I didn't know whether or not to be relieved or upset over that. I didn't feel anything, not even after seeing my mom break down and cry. You took away Paul as I was still getting to know him. At fifteen I was hating myself because I was wishing my uncle dead due to the amount of pain he was in. You tested my faith during that time, it wasn't easy and I hated you for it. Then you took Nolan only a couple days later. Sure we weren't close after I left Tuacahn but we were still friends. I was heartbroken. Before then I'd never experienced loss and now you took away two people fro...

     I've been thinking today and I realized, I have lost a lot of people. The number of people I've lost is tremendous. I'm 18, I shouldn't have this much experience with death for crying out loud! Usually I can just file away all that loss into a cabinet deep, deep in my mind and forget about it all. I know that these people are gone, but I just choose not to acknowledge that fact. It's really easy to go on doing that and living life as though these people have never passed on. However the anniversary of that loss always makes it really rough for me to forget and in my experience that first anniversary is always the hardest one to over come. What I wouldn't give if I could just see all these people who are gone and hold them one more time, hear their laughter and smell their sweet scent. What I wouldn't pay to say "I love you" one last time.      Let me fill you in really fast. Last week I received a call from my mom that my uncle was found unr...

This is a poem I wrote not too long ago. Break Down by Rebecca Christensen Cry. Cry out in grief, let your tears flow. Allowing that release, That pain you never show. Cry in despair, That pain that doesn’t cease But no one seems to care. Cry in misery, screaming. Scream. Scream in anger Punching your bed Everything starts to blur Scream in fear It’s getting to your head Those things you can’t un-hear Scream until your scream becomes a whimper. Whimper. Whimper on your bed Wiping away tears You start to pretend. Pretend. Pretend you are okay. Because you are strong, You’ll live another day. I think it is time I come clean about something...       Writing for me has always been my greatest outlet... hence why I keep this blog. Writing has been how I express myself, a way to put on page what I can't show on the outside. You see, in about May 2012 I started really struggling with depre...