Life Is Short

"Life is short, then you die." A friend in high school used to say that all the time and write it on the outside of her notebooks. It was kind of her motto. It may sound depressing to you. But it was real to her. Ironically, she died in a car accident our senior year of high school. Her life was way too short. But there's so much more to her than just that motto. There were reasons she said that. She didn't just make it up for the hell of it. She was hurting. She had things going on in her life that made her feel that way.

You probably think this is going to be all about my friend. It's not. This is about all of us. This is about life being too short. This is about bullying. This is about how we should treat others. You see, I just watched the Netflix series 13 Reasons Why with my almost 15-year old daughter. Yes, you heard me right. I watched it with my daughter because she had already watched it by herself on her phone. When she described it to me, I was upset she watched it. It sounded depressing and too much for a teenager to handle. My daughter said everyone in high school was watching it. I wanted to see what the big deal was and process it with my daughter, so we watched it together. I didn't know how much it would affect me. How much it would affect my daughter. If you haven't seen the show, you should watch it. It addresses some very serious issues our world is facing today. It's a made-up story. But it's not. Sadly, it's all too real. The kind of things that happen in the show happen every day in real life. S In the series, the main character, Hannah Baker kills herself because of the way she's treated in high school. Horrible things happen to her. She made a series of cassette tapes explaining the 13 reasons why she killed herself. There were 13 different people who affected her decision to kill herself. 13 different people who contributed to her death because of the things they did or didn't do when she was alive.

The main point I took from the show is this; how you treat others has a huge impact on them. If you treat them badly, it hurts then deeply. If you stand by and do nothing while watching someone get bullied or mistreated, you are almost as bad as the person doing the bullying. We need to stand up for those who are being bullied or mistreated. This goes for everyone, thoughout our whole lives. Not just high school. We can make a difference in people's lives. Good or bad. Shouldn't we try to make a positive impact? Why treat someone bad? There are a lot of reasons why students bully other students.Usually high school students bully others because they feel insecure and they usually have something going on at home. They're getting abused or being neglected, their family is having financial problems, their parents are getting divorced... the list could go on forever. Instead of turning to others to help them, they lash out  Bullying makes them feel good. It feels good to have power over someone else. There's one other reason kids are bullies: they were raised that way. Their parents are bullies or raised them to think they're better than everyone else so they learn to make fun of everyone who isn't like them. Yes, adults can be bullies too. It happens at work, at public
 events, even within our own families. It happens everywhere. There are times we all say and do things we shouldn't. Things we regret and wish we could take back. But some people take it too far.  Some people don't regret the things they say and do. Some people get high off of making others feel bad.

Why do humans have to hurt each other? Why can't we just love each other and build each other up? That's the way it should be. I know it's unrealistic. We will never have world peace. We will always hurt each other. Let's call it for what it is  Bullying. Emotional and physical abuse. Rape. Murder. It's a sad and scary world. It scares me that this is the world my kids are growing up in. I don't want them corrupted. I don't want them to lose their innocence. I don't want them to get hurt. But that's unrealistic too. We all get hurt. If not physically, at least emotionally. And emotional abuse can scar us more than physical abuse. Both are awful. But physical scars fade quickly. Emotional scars tend to last longer. I don't want any of it for my girls. I don't want it for anyone.

Maybe the world won't change. But maybe we can. One person at a time. We can make a difference in other people's lives. All we have to do is choose to love instead of hate. Choose to build people up instead of tear them down. Choose to be there for others when they're having a hard time. It starts with the ones we already love. Show them that you care. Be there for them. Tell them you appreciate them. Tell them you love them. Do whatever it takes to make them feel good. Because that's what Jesus would do. He loves us unconditionally. He forgives us when we screw up. So why can't we forgive our family, friends, neighbors, even our enemies? Jesus was crucified on a cross. Betrayed by those he loved. Why should He forgive us and love us still? He shouldn't. But He did and He still does. Every day. We just have to ask for forgiveness. And forgive others like he forgives us. I know; it's easier said than done. Believe me, I struggle with it. There are many people who I've been hurt by that I didn't want to forgive. It has taken me a long time to get there. And I'm still not sure I've completely forgiven some of them. But I'm working on it.

After we start with our family and friends, we should also start loving people we don't know. Yes, we should love complete strangers. That doesn't mean going up and giving random people hugs (but that would be a nice thing to do). It means showing kindness by smiling at them, asking how they're doing, thanking them if they help you with something. Restaurant servers, doctors/nurses, store clerks, even people on the streets. The list could go on. Sometimes just a smile or a few kind words can make that person's day. Once I found out the person serving me at the drive-thru was having a birthday. I told him happy birthday, and gave him a huge smile. His face lit up and he said I made his day. Another time I paid for someone's food at the drive-thru. I looked and the people in the car behind me were waving and had the biggest smile on their faces. When I'm in the checkout line at the grocery store, I always ask my cashiers how they're doing and try to engage them in conversation. I saw a homeless man and gave him food. He was so touched, he said, "God bless you." I saw a homeless woman and instead of looking the other way or saying I was too busy, I went up and talked to her. Asked her story and listened. I prayed for her and gave her a hug. I also gave her my number and told her to call me anytime. I always try to show that I genuinely care. You never know how much something you say or do will have an impact on someone. It's called random acts of kindness. Try it sometime. I promise it will effect both the person you're showing kindness to and yourself in a positive way. In the Bible, Jesus loved complete strangers and He loves us ALL today. No matter who we are or what we've done. We are all His children. We should show others His love. Especially those who may not know Him. We all need love. Be the love that others need. And allow others to love you back.

We should also strive to make a bigger impact on the world. Random acts of kindness are wonderful. But what else are we doing to help change the world? Get involved. Pray for others. And don't just say a quick prayer and forget it. Pray every day for the same people over and over until things get better for them. God hears our prayers. Keep adding to your prayer list. Never stop. Donate to charity. Sponsor a child. Get involved in school and church activities. Volunteer your time. Volunteer your skills, whatever they may be. I'm a photographer and I've volunteered to take photos for free. I don't do it all the time, because I still have to make a living. But if you know your skill can help others that can't afford to pay, why not do it? Especially for churches, schools, nonprofit organizations... any place that could use your skills to improve the lives of others. We need to get more involved. I know we're all busy. I'm guilty too. I don't get involved as often as I should. But I want to work on it. I want to help others.

Life is always going to be hard. We live in a fallen world. It get scarier everyday. Just watch the news for a few minutes and you'll see. But that's why we have to love others and try to help as much as we can. Don't let the world get you down. Keep pushing forward. Keep loving others. And ask for help when you need it. We're all in pain sometimes and need someone to love us. I know I do. I want to love others and I want them to love me. I want all of us to love more and make a difference. That's what God wants also. Be His hands and feet. None of us are perfect. He just asks us to try. I know I can try. I hope you can too.

Not enough words to describe the pain...

I couldn't sleep much last night. But that doesn't matter. There is someone who is suffering far greater than I am. Someone who is in so much pain that it's unimaginable. Someone I know just lost her husband yesterday. He was a deputy that passed away from injuries sustained while riding a horse in a Memorial Day parade. I don't know her very well, but it still breaks my heart that she lost her husband. Her daughter is in 8th grade with my daughter and they are friends. She used to come to our house and vice versa when they were younger. I can't imagine what they are going through right now.

How can something so awful happen? How do you pick yourself up after something so tragic? Somehow you have to. Life must go on. She has two girls to take care of and they need their mom. I know she will keep going for them. They will all survive. But life will never be the same. They will miss him every day of their lives. He will miss out on so many important events in the girls' lives. Their birthdays, Christmases, graduations, weddings... They will think of him and wish he was there. Who will have "the talk" with their boyfriends when they're in high school? Who will walk them down the aisle on their wedding days? Who will be that male role model in their life that they will take with them to their marriages? They will grieve over the loss of their father for the rest of their lives. When they see their friends with their fathers, it will make them jealous and sad.

Their mom will see him in her daughters and it will hurt every day. She will see him in the color of their eyes and their smiles. Something they say will remind her of him. A look on their face will resemble him. It will hurt, but it will also keep him alive. He will live on through their daughters. But she will be so lonely. She will lie awake at night crying and thinking of him. The bed will feel empty without him next to her. She will feel empty. She still has a lot to live for, but she's lost without him.

The good news is she has hope. She knows he is in heaven and she will meet him there someday. The girls will meet them both there when it is their time. It will be a wonderful, beautiful reunion. There will be no more sadness and no more pain. Just happiness and endless joy. She will want to live her life to the fullest, but she also can't wait for that day. The day when she will no longer miss him and cry for him. The day she will be with the love of her life again.

I can't imagine losing my husband, especially with two young children. This really makes me think and scares me. I could lose my husband. We never know what will happen next. We could all go at any time. What if he is taken away from me? How will I go on? I don't want to think about it, but I can't help it. As I lay in bed last night snuggling with my husband, I told him how thankful I am for him. How I don't want to ever lose him. He just reassured me by hugging me tighter. He didn't have to say anything. That said it all. I feel selfish thinking about myself when she is hurting so much right now. But I think this is a normal thing for most people to feel after something so awful happened to someone we know.

All I can do is pray. Pray for her and her daughters. Pray that God will pick up the broken pieces of their hearts and make them whole again. As whole as they can be. There will always be a small piece missing that nothing can replace. They will always miss him and grieve for him, but it will get easier as time goes on. It won't always be this hard. I know how awful it is to lose someone as I lost my parents at a young age. That's why my heart hurts for these girls to have lost their father at young ages. I would never wish that pain on anyone. But I also know that it's possible to pick yourself up and go on. To find joy in life again. To find meaning and purpose. To help others who are hurting, because you understand what they're going through.

God has a plan and purpose for their lives. They may not know what it is at this time, but He has something amazing planned. He knows their pain and sorrow and He's with them. He will never leave them. I'm praying they will feel His presence and feel His arms around them. That they will not lose hope and faith in this tragic time. That instead their faith will become stronger and they will grow closer with God.

I'm so sorry for their loss. I wish I could ease their pain. But all I can do is continue to pray and offer my help in any way they may need it. That's all any of us can do. No words or deeds can make this better. But we can come together as their community, family, friends... We can be there for them. That's what we do. We love each other through the awful things life throws at us. That's all we can do. Love and pray for each other, and never give up.

The Day My Parents Died

I've started writing a book about my life. This is the first part of my book. It's just a rough draft. More or less a summary, which will have a lot more detail when I'm finished. I just wanted to post it to see what others think so far. Please leave me some comments, questions, and/or suggestions. Thanks! <3

It began like any other day. My mom had left to go to a Christmas Around the World party, so our grandparents were babysitting us. I was playing dolls with my sister and cousin, Shasta. We were giggling and being silly like young, innocent children do. Without warning, that innocence was shattered.

            We heard what we thought were fireworks coming from downstairs. “Daddy must be here,” I cried in excitement. Many times my dad brought fireworks for us to play with when he came over, so we assumed that’s what we had heard. We ran downstairs, excited to see my father after so long. But what we saw next quickly turned that excitement into horror. My dad walked through the kitchen with a gun in his hand. He pointed the gun at my grandpa, who was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. My dad pulled the trigger and shot my grandpa in the shoulder. We all started crying in horror; we didn’t understand why Dad was doing this. My older brother came out of the bathroom behind us. I saw my younger brother, Jake appear next to my sister. They both saw what Dad was doing and started crying also. Grandpa had fallen on his knees and was pleading with Dad, “Please don’t hurt the children.” He kept begging Dad over and over again. Then Dad shot him in the head and Grandpa fell to the floor. He didn’t move or talk after that, and we knew he was dead. We were all in shock; all we could do was stand there crying.

            We knew Dad loved us and didn’t want to hurt us, but we didn’t understand why he would hurt Grandpa. Dad began shuffling us to the back door and told us to go to the neighbor’s house. When we got to the back of the house, we saw Grandma lying on the floor in front of the door. It was a horrific sight; she was covered in blood, here glasses were broken, there was blood in her eyes. A soft moan escaped from her lips. Shasta was very close to Grandma, so she seemed to take it the hardest. She screamed, “Grandma, no!” and kneeled by her side. She kept screaming Grandma’s name, trying to wake her up. Shasta clung tightly to Grandma; she didn’t want to leave her there. I kept saying, “Shasta, we have to go now. Come on, let’s go.” But she wouldn’t. We had to physically pull her away to get her to come with us.

            We headed for the door and saw that the glass in the door window was shattered where my dad had shot at Grandma from outside. Strangely calm, our dad led us to our neighbor’s house. As we stood in his yard, I looked up at Dad with pleading eyes and begged him, “Daddy, please don’t hurt mommy.” My dad looked down at me with sorrow in his eyes and said, “I’m sorry honey, but your mommy is already dead.” Nooooo! This can’t be happening! I wanted to scream, but all I could do was stand there in complete anguish and cry even harder. I was only ten years old; I couldn’t believe this was happening. How could my dad do this?  I prayed that Mom would be okay, that she would make it. She was a very strong and determined person. She wasn’t going to die like this; I just knew she wouldn’t leave me.

            Dad told us to go up to the neighbor’s house, so we knocked on his door. When he opened the door, he saw all of us standing there in tears and asked, “What’s wrong?” Through our tears, we told him what Dad had done. I turned around to find Dad, but he was gone. Our neighbor took us inside and called the police. He gave us milk and cookies and tried to calm us down.

            The neighbor we were with was an elderly man, so when our other neighbors found out what was going on they took us to their place, which was on the other side of our house. Soon there were police everywhere. Everything was such a blur; the only thing I could hear was the piercing sound of sirens and people sobbing all around me. I was afraid to look outside because I thought I would see my dad and I was scared of him. But when I looked out the window, all I saw were cop cars with flashing sirens filling the streets. The neighbors quickly shut the curtains and moved us away from the windows, fearing for our safety.

            After what seemed like an eternity, our other grandparents (my mom’s mom and step-dad) showed up at our neighbor’s house. Grandma was crying as she gathered us all in her arms.  I knew she had bad news when she looked down at us sadly. She tried to keep her voice steady as she explained what had happened, “Your dad shot your mom in the gas station parking lot. She died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.” Her voice cracked, but she kept going. “Your neighbor parked his car behind your dad’s driveways so he couldn’t get away. The police chased after him and shot him in the back of the knee, so he couldn’t run anymore. When your dad realized he would go to prison, he killed himself. I’m so sorry.” It was as if someone had just torn my heart out of my chest. I was dying inside; I wanted my mom back! I felt so scared and helpless; there was nothing I could do to change what had happened and I hated it. I will never forget any part of that day, as much as I may want to, because it was the worst day of my life. A part of me died with my mom that day.

            That’s not the end of my story though. It was the end of 10 years of trauma and bad memories, but the beginning of a new life. 

Light at the End of the Tunnel

This is my very first blog EVER!!! So exciting! I've been wanting to blog for a while now, and just never got around to it. Life is very busy, as everyone knows! I may not have time to write every day or even every week, but I'll try my best to blog as often as I can. I've always loved writing and really feel that it helps me grow as a person. It can also help others grow and learn along the way. So here goes... Hope everyone enjoys According to Alisha! :-)

I wanted to share my testimony for my first blog, because in many ways, it helps others understand me. Where I've been, why I am the way I am... My past does not define me, but it has shaped and molded me into the person I am today, as have the amazing family and friends I have in my life! So I hope this helps you know me better and helps you grow as a person. I know it has helped others and I pray it will have an impact on your life as well.

I was born in Florida in 1983 to a very poor family. We didn't have much, but we had each other and love... I have 4 siblings: my brothers, Josh (6 years older than me), Terry (1 year, 8 months older), and Jake (3 years, 8 months younger), and my sister, Maggie (4 years, 10 months younger). Our mom, Diane loved us very much. She did her best to take care of us, even in the midst of poverty and unforeseen circumstances. She was a wonderful mother. She loved God with all her heart and taught us about Him. She also loved us with all her heart. My father, Terry was a wonderful father, when he wasn't drinking and abusing my mom and half-brother, Josh. You see, my father was an alcoholic and a very sick man. I found out as an adult that he had DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder aka Multiple Personalities). He loved us, but did horrible things to my mom and Josh. I won't go into the gory details, but I'm sure you can imagine. He would come home drunk and beat my mom in front of us. He beat Josh in front of us, too. He made them do unimaginable things that no one should ever be forced to do. When he wasn't drunk, I can remember having a lot of fun with him. He liked to make homemade fireworks and set them off in the backyard in Florida. I have a few great memories in that backyard. Playing in the sand, digging forts with the tractor my dad rented, farming (we had pigs, chickens, faretts, dogs, and even a few snakes. We also had a huge garden, which we loved helping with). But the thing is, I have too many bad memories that tend to overpower the good ones. My dad coming home drunk and yelling at and beating my mom and/or Josh (too many times to count), being locked out of the house at night because I was naughty, and one horrible incident where we were scared to let dad in the house when mom wasn't home, so we locked him out and all had kitchen knives. I don't even remember how we got out of that one. I have blocked many things from my conscious memory in order to protect myself, but many things have come back to me over time.

Josh was very traumatized from all he endured, and did not cope well. He began sexually abusing me when I was maybe 5 or 6 years old. Then shortly after that, my dad threatened to set my mom and Josh on fire. My mom called the police and he went to jail. The police said they could not keep him long without evidence and suggested we move as quickly as possible. My mom packed us up and moved us to Michigan, where all our family is from. We were scared and didn't know what was happening. My mom moved us around for several years, trying to get away from my dad. But somehow, he'd always find us. He'd live with us because my mom was so scared of him. But then they'd separate again and we'd move once more. This was the pattern for years. I went to seven different schools as a child. It was not a healthy, stable environment for anyone. Josh continued to sexually abuse me over the years and it got worse and worse. My parents divorced at some point (I don't remember exactly when), but my dad would still find us and my mom would either let him stay in the house or in his mobile home in the driveway. She only did this out of fear for her own life. She knew how dangerous my dad was. I don't blame her at all for the decisions she made. I know she did the best she could with the hand she was dealt. She loved us and she loved God. She was an amazing person. I couldn't have asked for a better mother.

At some point (again, I don't remember when), my mom caught Josh sexually abusing me. She got him some help and got me into counseling and a sexual abuse group. However, before long, the abuse started happening again. I don't blame my mom at all, because I know she tried very hard to help Josh and stop him from hurting me. But she had so much going on, with 3 jobs and my dad abusing her. I can't imagine what she was going through. She must have constantly lived in fear of what my dad would do next.

In the Summer of 1993, when I was just shy of 10 years old, we were living in Allen, Michigan. We had been going to church with our mom at Allen United Methodist Church. She was a Sunday School teacher there. My dad was in the hospital, so he had not been home in several days, if not weeks. My cousins, David and Shasta were over playing at our house with us. My grandparents, Dale (mom's dad), and Mary (Mom's step-mom) were babysitting us, because my mom was working. She was getting ready to go to a Christmas Around the World party (she sold Christmas Around the World items). I was upstairs with my sister and Shasta. We were playing dolls in our room. It was an ordinary day and we were having fun. But that quickly changed. We heard what we thought were fireworks, and ran downstairs very excitedly because we thought dad was home and brought homemade fireworks for us. But when we walked into the kitchen, we saw my dad pointing a gun at my grandpa. He then shot grandpa in the shoulder. Grandpa fell on his knees. He began begging my dad not to hurt us kids. Then my dad shot grandpa in the head and he fell to the floor. We were screaming and crying. At some point, Terry and Jake had come downstairs also. Josh and David were nowhere to be seen. My dad told us to go to the neighbors house. He walked us to the back door. We saw Grandma Mary laying on the floor by the back door, covered in blood and moaning. Her glasses were broken and there was glass and blood in her eyes. The glass on the back door was also broken. We screamed and cried even harder when we saw Grandma. Shasta was very close to grandma and took it the hardest. She knelt on the floor beside grandma and clung to her, screaming, "Grandma, no! Grandma! Grandma!" We literally had to pull her off of grandma to get her out the back door. Then my dad walked us to the neighbor's house. While standing in his yard, I looked up at my dad and begged him, "Please don't hurt mommy." This is the moment I struggle the most with. My dad looked down at me, with his hand on my shoulder, and said, "I'm sorry honey, but your mommy is already dead." I could not believe what I heard. I was in shock. I just cried and cried and walked numbly to the neighbor's front door. When the neighbor answered the door, he asked what was wrong when he saw how distressed we all were. We told him what happened and he called the police. At some point, my dad had run off somewhere. We stayed with the neighbor, who was an elderly man, for a little bit and he gave us milk and cookies. Then the neighbors on the other side of our house found out what was going on and picked us up. They took us to their house. They locked the doors and closed the shades. There were police sirens everywhere. My Grandma and Grandpa Smalley (mom's mom and step-dad) came to the neighbor's house and told us that my mom was shot at Jack's Cracker Barrel (a small store and gas station my mom worked at) down the road and died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. They said my Grandpa Dale and Grandma Mary did not make it, either. Apparently, the police chased my dad for a while, then he shot himself in the head. We found out later that Josh and David were outside when my dad got to the house and saw him get out of the car with a gun, so they ran. I was told that Josh went to Jack's Cracker Barrel, because he knew mom was there getting some things for the party. He saw her on the ground in the parking lot, before the ambulance came to get her. It was a horrific nightmare. We lost both our parents and our grandparents that day.

Grandma and Grandpa Smalley took us to live with them. Mom had written a will and letters to each of us. She wrote them TWO YEARS before she died! That's how scared she was for years. She knew my dad was going to kill her at some point. That makes me the saddest. Knowing how my mom lived in fear for years. Knowing she couldn't be truly happy and enjoy her life, because she could never escape my dad. I loved my dad and I forgave him years ago, because I knew what he did was because of the alcoholism and DID he suffered from. The real him would never do that. He loved us and he loved my mom. But he will forever be the person who took my mom away from us. We can never get her back, until we meet in Heaven someday.

My grandparents got us the help we needed; counseling, support groups, etc. But nothing seemed to help. I'm sure we all had PTSD. We had nightmares for weeks after that day. Shasta and David lived with us for a while, until they were able to move back with their own parents. There was so much support coming from all over. The people of Camden and Frontier, Michigan donated a lot of money, food, clothes, etc. They also donated their time and building materials and built an addition onto my grandparents house to make room for 5 children. It was an amazing show of love and support. There were also many news reporters for weeks and months after that. There were bad ones and good ones. Some wanted to get as many gory details as they could, while others wanted to tell the good side of things. I remember one reporter interviewing us about what life was like after losing my parents, how good it was living with my grandparents. I showed them my pet frog, Speedy.

We started school at Camden-Frontier and made new friends. We met two of the teachers, Dave and Dawn Follis, who lived across the road from us. They took us under their wings and became like family to us. They were Christians who taught us about God and showed His love through their actions. I started counseling with Brad Bohner, the school counselor, who was wonderful. He really helped me understand everything. I met a good friend, Mandy, who became my best friend all the way through school. Dave, Dawn, and Mandy became my rocks. They loved me no matter what and were always there for me. I also made good friends, like Aimee, Amanda, Katy, and Levi. We were the Christian group in school. We started going to church at Frontier United Methodist Church and met more amazing, supportive people, like Bonnie Reicharrdt, Madonna Green, and Sonja Easterday. Things got better for a while. Then they got bad again when Josh started sexually abusing me again. Finally, my grandma caught him when I was about eleven years old. He went to a youth home and I never saw him again. Grandma would go visit him, but I always refused to go. He hurt me too much for too many years. I got into counseling and sexual abuse groups, yet again. But still, nothing really helped. I was numb for years, not really dealing with my feelings. Just holding them inside and keeping them at bay, so they didn't hurt so much. I had a lot of issues as a teenager. I was a Christian, but kind of bitter because of everything I'd gone through. I started going to church with Mandy at House of Prayer in Montpelier. But nothing seemed to help. I loved God with all my heart (I have my mom to thank for that), but I was still numb and felt a void in my life that I did not know how to fill. I tried partying a few times, made out with too many boys... I tried filling the void with worldly things, but of course that only made it worse. When I was 16, I met a cute boy, Josh, at Kroger where we were both working. It was the Summer before our senior year of high school. We had sex and I felt horrible about myself. I loved him and wanted to be with him, but felt like such a bad person because I'd always wanted to wait till marriage to have sex. It was my fault, not his. I tempted him and I initiated it, but it was a cry for attention. I wanted someone to love me. I think part of me also wanted someone to say, "No. I don't want you for your body. I want you for you. I love you the way you are." But of course, how could he know that? He was only human. And a teenage boy to top it off. What did I expect, that he would really be able to say no? It's like dangling a juicy piece of meat in front of  a Lion and expecting it to say, "No, I don't think I'll eat that. I can show some self control." It's my fault, not his. I don't hold any ill feelings toward him whatsoever.

I went off to college in 2001 to Spring Arbor University. I visited with Josh as often as I could. We planned to get married in the Summer of 2002. But before we could, I found out I was pregnant. I moved into the married housing apartments and Josh and I got married in May 2002, then he moved in with me. Our daughter was born in June 2002, 7 weeks early. She was in the hospital for 3 weeks. I continued taking classes after Haley was born. I had an amazing life. I was a young mother and scared, but I loved Josh and Haley. Things were going well. Then in the Winter of 2004, I became very depressed. I was freaking out about almost being done with college and not knowing if I really wanted to be a teacher or not. I had never dealt with depression, so I didn't know what was happening to me. I couldn't sleep or eat for weeks. I lost a lot of weight and became like a zombie. My good friend, Dawn helped me get to doctor appointments to figure out what was going on. I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder and started on medication. I also started counseling. For the first time in my life, I actually started dealing with my issues. I went through all my past trauma with my counselor and dealt with everything a little bit at a time. It was so painful, but so worth it in the long run. I finally had closure. I finally found peace. I realized that I had been a victim my whole life. I was very negative and complained about everything. But I did not have to live as a victim anymore. I was set free, because of Jesus, Dawn, and my wonderful counselor! The burden was lifted off my shoulders. I could finally breathe. There was light at the end of the tunnel! It had seemed so far away for so long, but I was finally standing right in the light! It felt amazing! Of course, I still had issues. Anyone with my traumatic background would. But I was much happier. I continued meds and counseling until I felt confident enough to stop. I should not have stopped my medication, however, because I had a relapse of depression the following winter. I went on and off my meds for a few years, but finally realized I will have to take them for life because the depression may not go away. It's always worse in the Winter months.

Our second daughter was born in January 2007, 8 weeks early. She stayed in the hospital for 7 weeks. We are so blessed that our girls are healthy and happy! :)

I got a Master's in Counseling in 2010 from Spring Arbor University. That program really helped me grow as a person, personally and professionally. I became a counselor and loved helping people. I worked with Families First as a counselor, then a Case Manager and Home Based Therapist with Integro. I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder in 2013 and lost my job due to being on medical leave for too long.

We have been extremely blessed in our lives. We've had our ups and downs, but we all love each other and are making a good life for ourselves. We go to church at Camden Missionary Church and have an amazing church family. We still have Dave and Dawn and our other amazing family and friends. We lost my Grandma Smalley to cancer this year and several friends and my sister have moved away. It has been a sad year, but we are still making it work. I am now trying to get back into teaching, as I've realized my passion for it. I love children and youth and really want to have an impact on their lives. So right now I'm substitute teaching and working on getting my teaching certificate updated. I'm hoping to find a teaching job next school year.

I love my life so much. I may always have Bipolar, depression and anxiety, but with meds and the support of my amazing family and friends, it's manageable. Maybe someday I will be completely healed from mental illness. If not, I'll still be happy. I'll still love God and my family with all my heart. I'll still live life one day at a time and make as many memories as I can. I am so truly blessed! Thank God for that. Thank God for the light at the end of the tunnel! <3