The road does get easier..

To say that the past couple of weeks have kicked my butt in terms of recovery, would be a complete understatement.
To say that I have a great support system would also be an understatement.
I have an unbelievably amazing support system.

I’m so lucky to be able to finally have honest and open conversations about the good and the bad of recovery.
I am beyond thankful for one person in particular, Jerrod Murr. (check out his blog here:

I initially started this journey back in November, well before I was an intern or even thought about the possibility of being one.
And at the time, I really didn’t plan on being at M1A for very long, but God definitely had other things in store for me.
To say that opening up about my self harm is easy would be a lie.
It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

By the time January rolled around, I was an intern, and had found a pretty good place in my recovery.
And then relapse came and slapped me in the face.

I honestly didn’t even want to admit that it had happened.
I figured if no one knew, it didn’t count, and I could still keep counting days.
But I knew I couldn’t just ignore it and expect things to change or get better.
So I confronted it and I dealt with it.
And I did something that I normally don’t do.
I was honest about my relapse.

Did it suck?
Oh absolutely.
Was temporary uncomfortableness worth it?

And thus began what would become regular conversations about recovery and how I’m doing along the way.
And I’m beyond grateful for the conversations I’ve been able to have.
While some have been uncomfortable, even now, they’ve been worth it.

If we fast forward to the last week or so, like I’ve already mentioned, recovery has gotten the best of me.
But I did something that’s needed to happen for awhile now.
After having a much needed conversation about how I had been struggling quite terribly with recovery, I took my box that I kept all of my razor blades and first aid supplies in, attached a sticky note on it, and left it in Murr’s desk.
I followed that by shooting him a text letting him know that I left something for him.

The conversation consisted of knowing when you’ve reached the next step or phase of recovery. And that was the next step for me.
Let me tell you.. I was terrified about doing that.
But I knew that it was time.

This week, I’ve had more low points than I would care to have had.
Relapse stayed at the forefront of my mind, and I was almost certain it was going to happen.
And if I’m being honest, I had every intention of relapsing on Tuesday night.
Until two of my new favorite people text me letting me know that they were rooting for me and that they were in my corner.
They will probably never know the full extent of how much that meant to me.
But I am so grateful for them, I hope they don’t quickly forget that.

The road to recovery is a long and tiresome journey. And it is far from being over.
There will still be days that I question recovery and whether or not I’m doing it right.
There will be days where I want to just give up.
And there will be good days. Days to celebrate.

And for all of those days, good and bad, I have such great people to keep me company along the way.

To those of you that have willingly come alongside me and are actively walking this journey with me, your love, support, and friendship mean more to me than you will ever know.
I know for a fact that I could not and would not be where I am without you.
Believe me, I’ve tried for years on my own, and it clearly hasn’t gotten me very far.

And while this road can and will be difficult, these times are when the best memories are made and the closest friendships are born and sustained.
I look forward to continuing this journey with all of you.

Thank you for keeping me company along the way.


When You Lose Your Way…

To say that the past two weeks have kicked my butt in terms of recovery would be an understatement.
A severe one at that.

And what makes it so frustrating is that I feel like I have absolutely no reason to feel this way.
Overall, my life is pretty wonderful right now.
But yet this cloud of doubt lingers overhead.
And I can’t seem to shake it.

I feel like I made such wonderful progress with recovery and just life in general at camp.
I mean, you can’t beat celebrating 120 days of recovery and being filled with the Holy Spirit on the same night.

But there is just this feeling that’s been in the back of my mind that just won’t go away.


I’m not sure if it’s the fact that I still can’t shake the images of the damage in Moore, Father’s Day coming up, or my very lifelike dream I had last week about checking myself in to a very specific treatment facility for my self harm, or a combination of all three.


The damage in Moore was absolutely breathtaking, and not in a good way. I had never seen such destruction in my life.
It literally looked like a war zone.
And these were places that I drove by all the time.
We drove by Briarwood Elementary School and my heart sunk.
The fact that every child and teacher walked out of that building alive is astonishing.
I can’t even begin to imagine what Plaza Towers looks like, and I don’t think I want to.
Seeing people literally digging through pile after pile of rubble to find whatever was left of their homes and lives can really shake a person up.
And almost three weeks later, I can’t shake those images.

Father’s Day.. well, I haven’t been too fond of that day in twelve years. But for some reason it’s hitting me especially hard this year. And I’m not too sure why. All I know is I’m beyond sick and tired of Father’s Day commercials. Thank you media for reminding me that I don’t have a dad anymore. As if I needed help with that.


And as far as that dream goes.. I don’t even know where to start.
It was such a random dream to have.
But it was so lifelike that when I woke up, I almost questioned where I was at for a brief moment.
I mean, this was a specific place, Timberline Knolls, which is a female only residential treatment facility.
This is the same facility that Demi Lovato checked into to address her eating disorder and self harm, so being a fan of hers, I’m obviously aware of it’s existence.
And now, I can’t shake off all of the “what ifs” and “should haves”.

“What if I’m not really recovering?”
“What if I’m not being intentional like I think I am?”
“Should I have checked myself into a treatment facility seven years ago?”
“Should I have checked myself into one last August?”

And well, you get the general idea.

I want to shake this feeling.
I don’t want to question every step of recovery that I’ve taken to this point.
I don’t want to relapse.

I want to reach the point to where I can’t remember how many days of recovery it is without looking at a calendar because it’s been that long.
I want to keep fighting.

But I am so incredibly tired.
And I really just want to walk away from all of this.
But for today, I’ll keep counting.