Welcome to my site. Here I document my latest clientele work as well as my own personal life. Enjoy!



I believe in therapy. In fact, I have a testimony of it. It's taken me nearly eight years to find a good therapist who not only talks around the issue with me when I need to talk around the issue (my favorite thing to say while at therapy is "I don't know..."), but who focuses on digging deep and addressing the issue(s) head on. I found my therapist just over a year ago, and since then I've worked through some pretty deep sh!t. I'm proud of how far I have come, what I have addressed and dealt with, the metaphorical mountains that I've moved, the mental blocks that I've been able to break down, and the fact that I'm still living amidst the crazy cards I've been dealt in my almost twenty-two years.

Today I went to therapy and I realized something. I'm afraid of moving forward. I don't know how to move forward. Not with this. I mean, I move forward every day by just getting out of bed, brushing through my lash extensions, and wearing a bra, but that's not what I mean. With this, continuing on this journey, I see two outcomes. 

Miscarriage #2 (which, at that point I'm pretty sure it would be #3. In like January I was 15 days late for my period and when I finally started my period it felt very similar to how it felt to miscarry. Obviously I didn't know what it felt like at the time. I would have only been like two weeks pregnant so it was no where near as disheartening seeing as I didn't know for sure if it was a miscarriage or not. Not the point) or more years of infertility. Neither one sounds very fun to me.

Mitchell tells me that I need to throw in that third outcome, the one where I get pregnant and have a healthy baby, but I'm so stuck that I can't even do that. I can't give myself hope when for the last year, the last three weeks, all of my fears have become my reality. Infertility followed by miscarriage. The hopes and dreams that I have had have let me down. I don't see this ending well, and I know that's extremely pessimistic of me, but hell. I just had a miscarriage so I'm gonna be a pessimist for a sec (I feel like I've been pretty good at finding happiness throughout this, but I'm just writing thoughts down and they're coming out more pessimistic than they have in the past).

Moving forward scares me. I'm scared of the hurt that could come from moving forward. I'm scared to feel this heartache again, because I don't know if I can survive this a second or third time. Everything inside of me wants to try again, in all aspects of the word, and to start now. But I also have this looming fear and anxiety that trying means being let down. Month after month, not being able to get pregnant. Or being able to get pregnant but not able to keep the baby alive, beating, and growing. Trying means that I'm leaving this part of my life behind, that I'm leaving this baby behind. Trying again means that I've failed at something (maybe?). And it's the potential of failure that has me stuck in cement. In the same spot. 

Now, not all of me is fearful, pessimistic, and stuck. Which is why this whole situation is so conflicting. I have the desire to move forward and keep trying. I want to move forward. I try every day to pick myself up and continue on. I feel better than I did the day we found out, that's for sure. I think that I see this happening for us. I just don't know how soon, which makes me sad. And I don't know how much more heartache it's going to take to get there. You know, to get to the hospital with a healthy baby. To get to the point where this all makes sense. 

My therapist reminded me that sometimes it's okay for things to not make sense. Sometimes we feel things and see things and we attach meaning to them, which is why we feel disappointed when things don't always turn out the way we wanted them to or the way that we planned. Sometimes God shows us a glimpse of something to just let us know that He's there. Which sometimes can feel cruel, but at the end of the day, it's just a cool concept. That He loves us enough to let us know that He's listening. Even when it feels like He isn't.

We don't always have to know everything.

It's just, I feel like I want to know this. This one thing. I wish I could just take a look through a magical mirror that told me the future and told me that things were going to work out and that because I've felt sadness as this, my future happiness will only be magnified. But there's no such thing. Just a lot of prayer, faith, and hope. Which is hard to have when you feel stuck, but I'll get there. 

I've been stuck before and I've moved forward before; times when I felt like I couldn't. When I was thirteen and my brother died and I felt like my world was falling apart, but it didn't. When I didn't want to get out of bed the days after his death, but I did. When I didn't want to go to the mall to find a dress that I'd wear to his funeral, but I did. The years after he was gone and I felt like the sadness would never leave me, but it did. I know what it's like to move forward, but I also know what it takes-- the emotional and physical and spiritual energy. Oh man, so much energy. 

I'm glad to know that I don't have to move forward alone. This isn't something that I struggle through all by myself. I've got Mitchell (and don't worry-- I'm talking to him about all of this before I write out blog posts. I'm not keeping secrets or posting things publicly before working it through with my husband). He's the better part of me right now. He's the strength and I'm the reality. He helps me through the days where I feel sorry for myself or where I just want to cry. He holds me together and fixes me when I need fixing. So we'll move forward together. We can become un-stuck together.

I guess that's it. That's what I have to say. Therapy is amazing and powerful and healing and you should find a therapist that works for you. Even if you don't have deep emotionally rooted issues like me ;) Just finding someone to talk to, who can help you come to realizations that you can't come to on your own, that's helpful. Then you can come home and write about it. Sometimes just talking it out and sitting on it can help things to make sense.

At least that's what I'm hoping for.


My New Body

My New Body