My time in the psych ward

In third grade someone invited me to do something I wasn’t ready to do. My innocence was stolen. That year I tried to throw myself down a flight of stairs to kill myself. Fast-forward through a few counseling sessions and made-up lies, I hit 7th grade. We wrote these letters to ourselves that we got to open our senior year of high school. Mine talked about how I didn’t deserve to live and as long as I was doing things for others or sacrificing myself for others happiness then that was all that mattered. Sophomore year of high school I would pop a bunch of pills and drink a ton of alcohol in hopes the two would mix and I could die. My friend caught on and told my parents. My parents were sad (of course) and sent me back to counseling. This time it got real. I lost a bunch of weight, stopped eating, quit doing life. I was miserable… But my mom was dying and how could I be miserable over something so dumb while she was literally miserable because she was given a death sentence. I was put on meds and given a person to discuss my issues with. This lady didn’t really dig too deep, so it was easy to surface level my life and give her what she wanted. I watched my mom breathe her last breath. I pushed those feelings inside and kept living. Freshmen year of college and my high-school boy dumps me. I was crushed. I became an obsessive person who worked out too much, didn’t eat, stopped going to classes and cried myself to sleep every night. Sophomore year and I meet a guy who changes my world. Taught me about racism, diversity, and how the world wasn’t as smooth as I thought. I got drunk at a friend’s birthday and had sex with my then best guy friend. Cheated. The desire of dying had never been so real. Every night I would call my boyfriend and tell him how sorry I was while I held a knife in my hand. Or I would dump out all my pills and try to take them while he screamed at me to stop. I couldn’t forgive myself. I became this person I was more than devastated to be. And like the person that I am, I didn’t deal with my issues and I stuffed them away. College boy and me broke up. I met someone else. He wrecked me. All the fears and irrational thoughts I had before came flying at me. I was a whore. I was a bad person. I didn’t deserve to be alive. He hoped I would die. I wanted to die. I was left and tormented. And I deserved it. I would beg for forgiveness and ask him to stop, but nothing could calm the rage inside. Nothing could stop that storm and it only intensified the fire inside of me. I was burning from the inside out and I didn’t know what could extinguish me. About a year later I found Jesus and a hope I didn’t have before began to burn inside of me instead of self-hatred. I found friends and happiness that wasn’t fake. I found a peace that I didn’t know existed. I started working at a dental office and I thought life was finally going to be on track… then one day I had a panic attack. I started to be irrational and the tears came and just kept coming. I couldn’t stop them. I wanted to die. It was an urge I didn’t have before. I’ve always wanted to die, but not like this. I wanted to leave work and grab a knife and slit my wrists. Before I imagined popping pills or swallowing bleach and slipping away in my sleep. But this day it came full force and I had to leave to go home and slit my wrists. I drove myself to the ER in hopes they’d give me some Xanax and I could calm my nerves and be on my way. (I still had my hope then and Jesus was definitely on my side). But the ER didn’t do what I wanted. Instead they stripped me down into a red paper suit. Paper pants and paper shirt–bright red. The whole hospital knew where I was going. They had a police officer escort my paper-ness and hunched-over blubbering mess into the psych ward. They took my belongings, my phone, my clothes, my purse, everything and locked it up in this closet after they searched my body for weapons. They brought me upstairs to the crazy house (I can say this because I’ve been there) and had me room with someone who thought she was my mom. I spent two nights there before my boyfriend forced them to let me leave. You see, when you get locked up in the looney-bin they put a 96 hour hold on you. But I wasn’t going to make it 96 hours. The floor was relatively nice. The nurses and doctors had their shit together. But the patients did not. I was surrounded by people who didn’t know who they were, patients who were super violent and physical, and people who were forced to come by the law. I didn’t talk to a doctor until my final day there, even though they promised me a doctor/counselor after my first night. She told me she thought I was faking my mental instability and depression and that she loved diagnosing people with this disorder. (I can’t remember the name). She immediately went into diagnosis instead of listening to me. She wasn’t helpful. I wasn’t getting help. I was having a mental breakdown in the worst possible place. I finally got out. I started counseling (again) and more medication. I wish I could say I’m healed now, but I’m not. Just last week I cried myself to sleep while I held all my pills in my hands and thought about meeting my maker. I didn’t sleep for two days so I had to bust out the good ole sleeping pills. My depression has never found an ending. My thoughts have never vanished forever. Every single day and every single minute I fight against the urge to throw myself in front of a moving car or to drown myself in pills and booze. I have a wonderful life and I finally have HOPE but it doesn’t change the little person inside my brain. I wish I could say he was gone. And I wish I could say my time in the psych ward cured me. It didn’t. I’ve tried yoga, mediation, medication, running, exercise, counseling, church, talking to people, blogging, writing, crying, home-remedies, etc. I haven’t found a way to turn off the little man. But it is easier now to want to live. I have dreams and hopes. I want to be a mom. I want to see my nanny kiddos grow up. I want to keep my siblings from burying me. And I want to see what God has in store for me. I didn’t write this blog to get sympathy–my life is actually pretty solid. I wanted to write this because it’s fucking okay. It’s okay to feel like you aren’t going to make it. That one more thing might actually crush you. It’s okay to let your emotions get clogged up and then burst when it makes zero sense to other people. It’s okay to have to use the psych ward to prevent yourself from ending your life. And it’s really okay to feel like you want to die. BUT DO NOT DO IT. People around you, physicians, boyfriends/girlfriends/lovers, friends, everyday citizens may not understand it. And they might tell you to just get over it. But you know what, I UNDERSTAND. and MILLIONS of other people have felt like this and they get it. Don’t be afraid to reach out. Don’t be afraid to spend 3 miserable days in the psych ward if that’s what keeps you alive. Just remember, no matter how hard it gets, it can get better. It won’t be easy. And it sure as hell won’t be over night, but it can get better. I promise. We are still so behind in the medical world when it comes to mental illness. Doctors mean the best and the psych ward isn’t made to make you feel the way I felt. But there are too many people and so many disorders. Give it a chance. And don’t be afraid to talk to someone. Even if it’s a stranger. Our lives aren’t meant to be cut short by our own doing


I browse the internet, ask my friends, go out and look around, send Snapchats, find & fixate on the flaws, I scroll through social media searching… I’m unsatisfied. I’ve always wanted more in my life and when I get whatever it is I’m wanting, I find myself desiring even more. I’m like a starving puppy who’s hunger is never satiated. I thirst for a drink from the well of satisfaction. I cry out for answers to questions I’ve been asking the wrong person. Is there someone who can love me more? Will I be happy where I am? What if I would’ve pursued a different degree? What if I would have taken that job? What if I would have said what was really on my mind? What if I would’ve succeeded in killing myself during my first attempt in third grade? What if my mom wouldn’t have died? I’m given a great life and I find a way to make it unhappy. I find a way to be unsatisfied. I’ve always been afraid to speak what I truly think… I’m afraid to say how I feel when those feelings could hurt someone else. I’m afraid to let go, to let loose, I hold tight to the people and things in my control. I do what is expected of me… I get lost wondering what I really want and wondering what someone else wants. I’m unsatisfied with not knowing who I am. I’m asking the wrong person… I’m unsatisfied because I don’t know what I want. I’m unsatisfied because I’m a human. I’m unsatisfied because there’s more to this than the world can offer. I’m unsatisfied because I fixate on the what if… At what point will I learn that there isn’t what ifs, there are just right nows?


Have you ever felt like you were waiting for something for no reason? That God put this command on you and it was really silly to follow?

Sam and I waited until our wedding night to consummate our marriage… and it was HARD but it was also the BEST decision we ever made (besides to get married of course 😊)! About 3 months into our relationship (we had sex during this time) Sam came home and asked me if we could wait until we got married to further our sexual relationship. At this point my relationship with Christ was not very strong and I was honestly shocked he had asked me to do this.

You see, I had been having sex for almost 10 years. I started dating very young and every guy I dated was usually 3-5 years older than me. I thought sex was just something you give to people and in return they will love you or make you feel worthy. I had equated sex with feeling loved and desired. I had been with guys who would make me feel guilty if I didn’t want to or would tell me they loved me in return for going further… (not everyone I dated did this). But the point is, at a very young age I thought sex was just a part of the dating package. I didn’t think sex and love had to go together, but I felt like if I didn’t give sex, then there was no way I could be loved. Mix those thoughts with alcohol, partying, and loose boundaries and sex just became a part of who I was. It wasn’t until my relationship with Sam and my growing relationship with Christ that I started to understand how this thought process was damaging my relationships and my self-worth. When Sam came home and asked me to wait, he explained to me that he wanted me to feel like I was worthy of love, a relationship, and I could be desired for my mind, soul, and heart, NOT just what I could do with my body. He also explained how waiting for marriage would teach us so much about waiting on God’s timing and the love God has for us.

“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God?” 1 Corinthians 6:19

The first couple of weeks of reading, waiting, and praying were very challenging and difficult but I had a wonderful support team and great mentors. I read scripture about waiting for marriage, how God’s timing is never wrong, and the meaning of marriage and sex. Sex is a beautiful and wonderful gift from God. It is meant to be shared with the person we love. Sex is not meant to be used as a tool to get others to do what we want, make others feel guilty, or as an act of something that feels good in the moment. Of course after the first few weeks things got easier and it became easier to hold off our temptations. But as year 2 and almost 3 got closer and we knew we wanted to get married the idea of waiting was not as magical or fun. I had learned so much about myself, relationships, Sam, and the respect we had for one another. I had learned to give myself to God instead of others first, I had learned patience, to rely on God, and to wait for God’s season and not my own. “There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens” Ecclesiastes 3:1.

But if I knew I wanted to marry Sam and he wanted to marry me, why were we still waiting? That’s where my question at the beginning stems from… I felt like we were waiting for something for no reason. The first year of our relationship I needed to wait, I needed to know I could be loved without giving myself sexually. I needed to know that God and his plans are so much bigger than my own, but I felt like I had learned this and I was tired of waiting. Wouldn’t it be okay if I just went ahead and stopped waiting? I mean God showed me so much…

“Do not love the world or anything in the world. If anyone loves the world, love for the Father is not in them. For everything in the world–the list of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life–comes not from the Father but from the world. The world and its desires pass away, but whoever does the will of God lives forever” 1 John 2:15-17.

That verse taught me that my lesson was not finished, my season of waiting was not over, and once again God’s timing is ALWAYS correct. God did teach me how to love myself, how much love I could have for another human, and how much love our relationship could have if we put God first. But he also taught me that his will be done. No matter my earthy desires or wants, his plan is far better than my own.

So we waited… And it was and still is one of my favorite lessons from God. Being with my husband on our wedding night was worth the wait, it was something that is indescribable. I have never felt more loved, appreciated, respected, desired, or needed than I do with my husband. I know the waiting was incredibly challenging and we questioned it a lot, but it built a beautiful and strong foundation for our marriage. It created a foundation that puts God first and then our marriage. It created a biblical marriage and a Love I’ve never felt before and that is more than enough to make me say I would go back and do it all over again. God’s plans are not always my plans, but they are WORTH the wait.

It is Finished

A few weeks ago I got one of my favorite tattoos to date. “It is finished” is written on my spine. The lovely Jessie Felix Garcia at Tattoo You did this for me. (she’s amazing and a total babe…go see her). This tattoo is exactly what it means. Jesus said, “It is finished,” with that he bowed his head and gave up his spirit (John 19:30). This was the final word [Tetelestai] Jesus said before he died on the cross for our sins.

When Jesus died on the cross, he didn’t say “do good and you’ll go to Heaven” or “Be kind and you’ll go to Heaven” he said “It is Finished.” In those final moments leading up to his human death, Jesus took all our sins, all our wrongdoings, all our hatefulness and all of our brokenness to the cross so that we could be forgiven and be given the chance to live in Eternity with God and Jesus Christ himself. He died so that we could live. I’m not saying we can live our lives full of sin and greed without asking for forgiveness and still go to Heaven. But I am saying that if we spend our time trying to do “good works” so that we will be noticed or look like a Christian, we aren’t getting the big picture. We are inseparably with Christ in all he did. His resurrection, our resurrection. We are alive and raised up from the dead not because something we did, but because of what Christ did for us. It is by Grace we have been saved and it is a gift of God. Nothing in ourselves or nothing we can do raised us up. It is purely 100% God and a gift from God.

I am not saying that we can/should live our life in sin and blatantly not care about the consequences of that. “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall nor perish, but have eternal life” John 3:16. We must believe that Jesus died for us, that no matter how much we give, donate, do acts of kindness, Jesus is who gave up his life for our sins. Once we accept Jesus into our hearts, our hearts should crave to be more like him. We are not able to be free of sin on Earth, but acknowledging our sins and asking for forgiveness and a softened heart is how we can be more like Jesus. Again, we CANNOT live our life in sin and disregard of Jesus and his sacrifice and expect eternal life. But there is nothing we can do to change what Jesus has already done for us. It is finished.

Christmas Magic

As most of you know, I LOVE CHRISTMAS. Christmas is magical–literally another world full of unicorns and cupcakes (but seriously). Christmas is my favorite time of the year. 

What most of you do not know is why I love Christmas and there are two BIG reasons I do.

On December 4, 2007, my mom took her last breath of air. Christmas being only 21 days later, you would think Christmas would be a sad time for me, especially since it was the first Holiday without her. However, that Christmas morning my siblings and I woke up to stockings, gifts, and a FULL living room of presents my mom had picked out before she died. My mom spent the last six months of her life in excruciating pain; chemo and radiation, hospital stays, IV’s, a port attached to her as a constant reminder she was dying, and a life-sucking disease taking over her body. However, she spent those months making sure her children were being kids, not letting us visit her when we should be out with friends, and acting as normal as she could–laughing, playing, singing, dancing. She still believed in the magic.

Mom spent her final days making sure each of her children opened the perfect presents with the best stocking stuffers because that is who my mom was. My mom believed in the magic of Christmas, the feel-good of finding the prime gift for a loved one, the baking, Christmas carols, and of course Christmas movies. We would make Oreo-reindeer, watch The Grinch, decorate the tree, go look at Christmas lights and we always had the BEST gifts. She knew how to turn a little money into a gift that she put thought into–she never gave us gifts that were “fillers.” Mom believed in the reason for the season; I remember going to midnight Mass. My mom made Christmas about family and doing things together, the gifts were phenomenal, but it’s the feeling that made it so perfect.

I love Christmas because it reminds me of her.

December 25 is not just another American holiday for gifts and spending money, but it is the day our Savior and Lord Jesus Christ was born. People of all nations come together on this day and celebrate and commemorate the birth of Jesus. I know lots of people do not celebrate the real reason behind the day, but I believe every year on this day more people draw closer to God. I believe we see more giving, forgiving hearts, donations, acts of service and kindness, and more love because even if not everyone believes, God is working in and on those hearts to better people. Christmas is about God and even though we have really put pressure on spending during the holidays, we have also put emphasis on giving, love, hope, and grace. These things are all qualities of Jesus and the magic of Christmas exudes them from his people.

I love Christmas because I believe in Jesus and his unwavering love. 


Being on the road has been such a fun adventure! Week 2 full time is underway and I’ve already learned so much. Duluth has been beautiful and cold. The snow is the perfect snow for snowmen making and the large stacks of it are hiding places for my snowpup. Albus is having a blast and keeps digging in the snow and running like a mad man. Sam and I took him to the Target lot so he could let loose in fresh snow piles without any traffic concerns (it was 9pm). 

Duluth has a port for large ships to dock and on Sunday we went on a walk with Albus and got to see a ship come in. Tons of people were there to witness the arrival; we believe they were loved ones of some of the crew members.

 I love eating local food and we’ve tried a few different places. The Duluth Grill is next to our motel and we ate there twice. The first time I got an omelet with everything and a cinnamon roll. The omelet was delicious and the cinnamon roll was tasty as well. However, JJ’s in COMO has the best cinnamon roll I’ve ever tasted. (Go there and try it). The second time I got the chicken fried pancake. The pancake was cooked with corn and bacon on the inside topped with fried chicken and maple bacon syrup. The pancake was salty & sweet and reminded me of cornbread. The chicken wasn’t good, but I’d still go back to try other things. We also ate at Grizzly’s Wood-Fire Grill. I had the wood-fire chicken sandwich with avocado. I love chicken and I love avocado & you can never go wrong with the two paired together. 

So far this trip I’ve learned:

  • 1) Albus loves snow as much, if not more than I do 
  • 2) Being married has been my greatest and most favorite adventure thus far 
  • 3) Sam doesn’t know how to play candy crush 
  • 4) Sam gets homesick & being on the road without visitors is hard
  • 5) My husband actually loves Albus like I do 😘
  • 6) Home workouts are cue for my dog to attack me  
  • 7) Greys Anatomy reruns never get old 
  • 8) Living with my best friend makes my phone battery last longer 
  • 9) I need NEED to decorate for Christmas asap (camper shopping must happen soon)
  • 10) Sam is the hardest-working and most selfless person I know 


You told me it was alright

You whispered in my ear 

As you moved down

“Tell me what you want”

Shame bubbles in my chest 

Confusion filled my mind 

A hole ripped in my heart

The shaking began

You whispered in my ear 

Another lie of theft 

Forever damaged, forever guilt

You finished, leaving behind a child 

You whispered in my ear 

With no disgust 

You stole my innocence 

Losing childhood 

Breaking all trust