3 years ago, I would have laughed in your face had you told me I’d be “here” today. And by here, I mean in this body, living this life, dealing with the emotional and mental turmoil that I deal with, and battling so harshly with my mental health.

2014 was a good year.

I was given a clean bill of health after nearly dying. I packed my bags and moved across country, back to my hometown, to be close to my Dad. And I met the man I’d eventually marry. It didn’t come without heartache, as 2014 was the year I lost my best friend to suicide.

In early 2015, something happened to me. It’s called life, but it was a life and lifestyle I had never, in my 29 years, experienced. Everything I was, everything I had worked my whole life for, everything I had accomplished came crashing down around me. For the first time in my life, I was made to feel worthless. Unworthy of love, respect, passion. I went from confident and headstrong to extremely self-conscious and always sad. Two years later, none of that has changed. And the worst part is, I gave someone the power to destroy me. I trusted them not to but they did it anyways. Telling them what they had done to me… it made absolutely no difference to them. They felt no need to change. But I should never ask someone to change, right? The whole damn thing is confusing.

Everyday I battle flashbacks, feelings of heartbreak, not being good enough, not being pretty enough, not being skinny enough, not being fit enough, not being everything I “should” be.


I am smart enough to know I should never give anyone power over me. But in a weak moment, I did, and now I’m so broken I don’t know how to dig myself out of this hell hole.

Others see me as an inspiration. I’m always offering advice, helping others, and I have several people who reach out to me when they are suicidal, because they know I get it.

I get it, because I allowed someone to break me SO much, that I no longer wanted to live.

I think about what God wants for me. I read my Bible often and realize that what I want from life is how the Bible says I should be living anyways. Go ahead, those of you who are not of belief can judge me, but this is my blog and these are my beliefs.

I started college in the fall of 2016 and I’m taking it seriously this time. I’m setting goals and I’m obtaining them. I’m slowly learning to take care of me.

Now, I need more people in my life who are supportive and loving. I want to make friends and be social- because that’s who I am, and that’s what I allowed someone to take away from me.

I’ve had some regain over the last two years, and it’s time to work on me. I got a crappy diagnosis yesterday because there have been certain ways I can’t take care of myself. That ends now. And if I’m horrible for putting myself first- so fucking be it. I don’t need you in my life if that’s how you feel.

Learning to love yourself is one of the hardest things to do. It’s something all of us struggle with. I loved myself, and what I stood for, until someone ripped that away, along with my smile and my laughter.

It’s time to take those things back!

It’s already February, but surgery in December held me back tremendously. I’m ready for a lifestyle change, a new attitude, and a new confidence. I know it’s an uphill battle, and it will not be easy… but I WILL GET THERE. I have been through enough, and survived it, to let someone destroy me.


One Month Post-Op

Here goes my one month post-op plastic surgery post. It’s a lot of whiny and miserable, so feel free to skip ahead.

First of all, this shit hurts. And it doesn’t just hurt where she took the skin off. It hurts up into my shoulders and neck, and down into my wrists and hands. It’s like if I stretch the ligaments in my wrists– HOLY CRAP!! I’m sure that is all attached, but I never thought I’d experience this kind of pain for this long.

I still cannot extend my reach all of the way. Some days are better than others. I’m still in miserable swell hell. I’m taking turmeric and eating pineapple, and I also take a Lasix every day. I’ve been keeping my feet propped up when I can, but that doesn’t always help either. Sometimes being stationery makes it worse. My hips/legs are swollen like the good year blimp.

I’m not entirely happy with the results, but I keep telling myself to remember where I started and to remember what they look like when I started. I can see some improvement on my stomach, which makes my happy, but it still has a long way to go as well.

One step at a time. 🙂

Monday is my one month follow up with the surgeon. We will discuss physical therapy and our next step in surgery. I was aiming for Spring Break (March), but I think I may wait until May, when school is actually out. The stress of surgery, combined with even the thought of school, is a little too much. And besides that, after SB, I’ll have an additional class. Math— GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. As if Spanish and History aren’t making me struggle enough.


Make my world go black…

I’m so tired of the rainy, gloomy weather. I will, however, admit that it’s much nicer than the freezing cold, snowy weather we could be getting considering it is January after all.

This semester is in full effect, minus math, which doesn’t start until after Spring Break. I truly feel I may have taken on WAY too much. Spanish online has me completely lost. I’m horrible at math, and I hate history because I’m not a “read this chapter and remember all of these things” type of person. *gag* So much for aiming for at least a 3.5 this semester lol.

Dad’s surgery went well, according to the surgeon. He’s in a lot of pain and looks pretty rough, which was expected since it was surgery on his eyes. Hopefully he heals well. Between the last few days of nonstop running, I am more than ready for a slow down.

Not much to say. Therapy tomorrow, and I am more than ready with the way I’ve been feeling. I’m learning so much about myself.

I’m going to attempt to do a song of the day when I post a blog now. We will see how long this continues lol. I have to figure out how to embed a video first! 🙂


Cherish today, tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.

Over the last week I’ve been following the story of a young lady, who’s married with two very small children, who suddenly fell ill and was suddenly clinging to life. This morning when I read the update, I couldn’t help but cry as a young husband wrote about how he missed just talking to his wife. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I sat in the hospital room with my Dad; we were awaiting his minor, outpatient surgery.

My life has been a roller coaster with my health. But ultimately I moved home to Kentucky when I came home for a visit after 18 months of being stuck in Arizona. I was “stuck” there because I was dying. I spent 3 months in the hospital, fighting for my life, and when I was released from 24/7 IVs at home and around the clock medical care, the first thing I planned was a trip home.

When I came home, I realized my Dad’s health had been declining while I was away. I extended my trip by a week to stay with him for an important doctor’s appointment. When we heard some of the test results… I was heartbroken. I knew I had to choose between my life in Arizona and what was likely to be my Dad’s final years.

We all know where I am now (home, in Kentucky, a small town I hate, but I’m here because I love my family).

I don’t know why it took seeing his health failing to make me move back. The truth is, any of us could be taken at any moment. The only moment we are guaranteed is the very one we are breathing. I don’t like going to bed mad, I HATE fighting with ones I love, and I don’t like uneasy feeling that comes with things that are “unsettled.” I’m a peaceful person. I like peace and tranquility.

I try to live my life remembering that God has a plan for each of us and that tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. Watching/reading this story recently has reminded me of that. In fact, my eyes have been opened to a lot in the last month or so.

After my surgery, I learned who my true friends are. Again, it sometimes shocks me, but then again it doesn’t. Each trial I go through, I find new people who I didn’t realize were there for me, and there are ones who disappoint me. I don’t know why it still catches me off guard.

Today, I’m thankful to be alive. I’m thankful for the people in my life. My heart beats for my family. They are what keeps me going on the days I want to give up. I remember who I am outside all of my struggles, and that keeps me motivated, too.

Be blessed. Cherish each moment. And remember, tomorrow is never guaranteed. If you love someone, make sure you let them know. ❤


The mark you’ve made on me can’t be erased :)

The last week has been rough. Well, the last 13 days to be exact.

I am my toughest critic, and it’s been so bad the last little bit that I won’t even go into details. And y’all know better than anyone that I share EVERYTHING on here: the good, the bad, the ugly- all of it.

Today it’s the good.

I don’t even really stop and think about what I look like through someone else’s eyes. I get random compliments occasionally. But then there comes the compliments that are completely unexpected and out of the blue. The ones that kind of stop you in your tracks, make you catch your breath, and think to yourself, “WAIT… that’s how they see me? THEY think I’m attractive?”

I beat myself up daily. I never feel pretty enough, smart enough, blah, blah, blah. Those are issues I deal with because of things I’ve dealt with in the past… but today I realized I am so ready to move on from the self-conscious, fearful woman that I have been my entire life. The moments of “I’m beautiful and amazing” pass quickly. I want them to linger longer. I want them to last throughout the day. I want to be that woman all day, every day.

Messy hair? Beautiful.
No make-up? Beautiful.
Swollen and up a size in pants? Beautiful.
Pajamas? Beautiful.
Perfect hair? Beautiful.
Cute clothes? Beautiful.

Who I am on the inside? Always beautiful, and that is what truly matters.

I’m goofy, sarcastic, quick witted, loyal, trustworthy, honest to a fault, mouthy as hell (no filter- #sorrynotsorry), I’m a good friend, I carry secrets to the grave, and most importantly I am unique. I’m one of a kind. No one else in the world is like me.

So, here’s to you! Thank you for opening my eyes today. Thank you for making me smile. Thank you for making my day, my week, and for giving me something to look back on when the days get dark.

“Sometimes I wonder why you even care
Cause even when I leave you’re always there with me
And like a candle makes a brighter place
This mark you’ve made on me can’t be erased.”


Comfort of Cutting

We see the stereotypes attached to it. It’s usually juvenile, some high school kid is cutting their wrists because life sucks and they want to die. But there’s so much more behind the pain and the science behind why people choose to cut.

For most, it isn’t about dying. It’s about the transfer of pain. The comfort of cutting. It’s something we have control over. It’s your blade, you choose how deep, you choose where, you choose when- and for a brief moment, all of the mental and emotional agony is erased and replaced by physical pain.

That transfer almost felt magical for me at times. The burning, the stinging– it hurt like hell. I’d immediately scramble for a cool rag to stop the burning. The something with a pain relieving agent to numb the pain. But for that moment, nothing else in the world mattered.

I don’t cut anymore. I haven’t in almost 9 months. I stopped when I saw how much it was hurting the people who loved me. My husband would take away my straight blades, and I’d shred my arms with a disposable razor. Wanna talk about pain? THAT was like lighting my arms on fire. You take away, I’d find something else.

I was never suicidal, I was just tired of hurting. The mental pain, the emotional pain- I wanted all of it to go away.

There are still days I think about it… how good it felt to numb myself to everything but some physical pain. I crave the burn to replace the ache inside my soul. But I know once it heals, and the physical hurting stops, all of the anguish is still there.


Lions, tigers, and bears, OH MY!

A lot of people have been asking A LOT of questions about this surgery. The main question I get is, “How are you feeling?” Followed closely by, “Did insurance pay for your surgery?”

Those answers are easy, but repeating them several times a day is hard, because I had surgery on my arms- which makes it hard to text and hold my phone. So, I decided to type a blog post and answer the questions I’ve been getting from you all.

How am I feeling?

Rough. Very, very rough. Of all my surgeries, this has been the most painful, awkward, and the worst. Having your arms operated on is no joke. You can’t brush your hair out of your face, you can’t reach for anything, you can’t lift anything, and you’re basically useless. I’m at exactly 7 days now of being useless. Although I was excited when I finally pooped (dang pain meds!) on day 4, and I could wipe my own ass. I was nervous about that one.

The pain has been different. The JP drains hurt, as always!!!! But I am cut completely across IN my armpit, and down to my elbow. It was 6 days before I could get a bra on. I couldn’t dress myself and all I could wear were hoodies. Oh, and 4x shirts because I should stretch them far enough to simply slide in my arms. I’ve been looking classy the last week, let me tell you! But I’ve honestly felt so bad, I don’t care.

The fatigue and exhaustion is bad. Yesterday was my first follow up appointment and it was the first day I didn’t nap. I spent all of Christmas Day sleeping. I woke up like 3 times- to eat- then would fall back asleep immediately.

This is the first of 5 plastic/reconstructive surgeries where I have taken my pain medicine around the clock (every 4 hours, on the hour) to keep the pain from getting out of control. I’m now down to 2, maybe 3 times a day. It just depends on what I am doing.

Did insurance pay for my surgery?

Yes. Insurance has paid for all my surgeries, otherwise I would not be having them.

How did I get insurance to pay for them?

I have an amazing surgeon and an amazing PCP. They work together, they both write strong dictations as to why the surgeries are necessary and beneficial to my health, and we’ve only had one we had to appeal. It was overturned within 48 hours. The key elements are documenting all the issues the skin causes and having doctors ON YOUR SIDE. Without that, you’ll likely never succeed.

Am I happy with the results?

Neither surgery went as planned. But from the beginning, every surgery has been an experiment. I lost over 400lbs, and there was not a book on how to fix my body. My skin went here, there, and everywhere. My dominant arm is much smaller because it had more muscle. The other still appears to have loose skin. When I lay down, all my skin on my stomach goes flat and falls to the back, this making a tummy tuck nearly impossible. My surgeon did some muscle repair, took off some excess skin in the center of abdomen, and will work on the sides of my stomach again during my next surgery.

The only person we have to compare my body to underwent 11 reconstructive surgeries to remove all her skin. ELEVEN!!!! I’m tired and I’m “only” at 5. One more, and I’d like to call it quits. This time we went in with strong numbers (hemoglobin, ferritin, etc.) and it made a HUGE difference.

It’s a progress.

One day at a time, one step at a time.

Christmas in our house with the kids went great!! We had help from some amazing people and their faces were priceless on “Christmas” morning.  We had our Christmas early, because of my surgery.  

My mom and brother both had surgery the week I did too, so keep them in your prayers also.  They’re both still struggling.  
Til next time…. 💋