A few years ago, I created a tumblr account, today I created a blog. This is for the small victories in life and the small failures.

Category: The Story Behind


{A/N: one of the reasons I’m going through trauma therapy.}

I’m not sure if I remember it correctly. I mean—it was my birthday. When I turned twenty-one, I didn’t have a big blow out. I invited a couple of friends out and got a decent little buzz. When I turned twenty-two, I went for it. I decided to make a little post on my Facebook account and announce, “Hey! Thursday is my birthday! Start at the Palace at 11pm!” I never expected you to come. In fact, only three people met me at the Palace. My coworker was late relieving me. I had to use our shared unisex bathroom to change into my little black dress and lace leggings. I even used the mirror to add more makeup. I had forgotten to wear contacts, but I put on the full face of makeup anyway. I drove like a maniac to the Palace where I met Miri and Brianna and took the full stoplight shot. Green is for go! Yellow is for speed up! Red is for—I don’t remember…rightly so. Living in a small town is perfect for getting all the free drinks on your birthday. From there, we went to the Tav and ordered a pitcher of beer we all shared. That’s where we met Pat. He’s an okay guy. You were all pressuring me to head over to Shooters so we could indulge in some gaming while we drank, but first we made a pit stop at the frontier for yet another birthday shot. As we traveled down the darkened alley, we came across you and Ian. I was focused on Ian, but I invited you along too. I’m not sure why you didn’t notice how my eyes were glazed over or my dress was askew. But I didn’t ask. This was the point where I took every person aside separately. I told each one to keep me away from you. I knew I was going to be drunk, and I knew that drunk Laekin had a secret thing for you. They all swore.


Cue Shooters, your ex-girlfriend was waiting for me with balloons, crowns, necklaces, even a huge “Birthday Girl” button. She even made me cupcakes. That was when we were close. No one else had never done that for me. This is where things go dark. Maybe some of them are blurry, but most of them are dark. We were going to 301, but somehow we ended up at Blue Rock for another birthday shot. They didn’t do the reverse cowgirl as only one person was even in the bar in the middle of July. But it was fun anyway—maybe next year. Somehow I ended up at 301. I went to the bathroom right away. When I came back I had a birthday shot in front of me. I swore to Jerrad I didn’t order it, as I had my official birthday drink the night before, but he let me have it anyway. Some women bought me the melon shot. Green is my favorite color, and the melon tastes so refreshing. Smoking—in the beer garden. I had a water in one hand and vodka in the other. The after party—my place. I was stoked you were there. You could make the drinks. Your ex-girlfriend was hitting on you, so I cockblocked her. I may have hit on you too. Ian came even though she was there. It was crowded. My packed boxes in the way and seven people crammed into a studio apartment. I didn’t even have space to sit on my couch. You spilled root beer on my Keurig box. I had to apologize to the new owner when I sold it for drinking money.


Everyone is leaving. I don’t know why. I don’t want you to leave. You smoke cloves on the porch as I hold your arm. You ask me to stop doing that. I don’t know what I was doing. Ian and Miri leave, they ask if you want a ride. I’ll take care of her. Your ex-girlfriend is asleep on my couch upstairs. You slide your hand up my dress and try to satisfy me. I try to tell you to stop, but I can’t stifle my moans long enough. I mention that a cop is going to drive by, you refuse to listen. When the cop drives by Shit. We move to the bushes. I ask you if you have to leave. You wore me down. Happy Birthday. Do you want to get on top?


She’ll know. I refuse to put my leggings back on just to take them off once I get upstairs. I said I don’t care. I passed out. Your ex-girlfriend helped me find my glasses and rehydrated me. I think she may have suspected something when she walked me to my car, but she didn’t say anything until two weeks later when she blocked me.


The Story Behind My Tattoo


{Pictured is me with my fresh and bloody tattoo and then my arm with my fresh and bloody tattoo. Photo Credit to Jake Miller.}

Once upon a time there was a freshman who moved to college with an AAS degree. She decided to move away from her family and try things on her own in a new town with a new college. She thought she would be okay. In the past this girl struggled with major depression, suicidal thoughts, self harm, and differentiating between reality and fantasy. And she struggled for awhile, until one day she decided she didn’t want to struggle anymore. When she moved to this new town known as Ellensburg, Washington, she tried to put herself out there and make new friends. But she had difficulty doing this in the fall and started to struggle again. When she started to fear she might try harming herself again, she decided to find something permanent that could always remind her to stay strong. This freshman had always wanted a tattoo and her mother always said that as long as she was 18 years old and paid for it herself, then she could get one. The freshman decided to do some research. She always wanted “Courage” or “Stay Strong” on her wrist, but she thought those designs were overused and unoriginal. She tried searching for words in other languages but nothing worked. One day, she remembered back to an old history class when they had discussed The Crusades and Richard the Lionheart. Lionheart reminded her of a lion. She always liked big cats, and people always mentioned lions around her because they were the first animals they could think of that started with L. “The heart of a lion–a sign of strength,” she thought. She had to have been strong to survive 18 years so far, and if she could do that then she had to have the heart of a lion. She chose a font via an internet font generator and she saved it. After the first quarter’s refund, the girl took her refund money and went to the closest tattoo parlor. They priced her tattoo and let her make an appointment. She came back in with a friend (who took the pictures) and spent the hour getting ink injected under her skin. Her wrist tingled a bit but it never hurt.

Later on people always asked her what Lion heart meant, and she never knew what to tell them. She told some the truth–others she just stated “The heart of a lion” or “It’s a sign of strength”.

Almost two years later, the girl has attended counseling every quarter since that first year. She has actively made a choice to release the pent up anger and deep hurt and is trying to be happier. Most days she is happy. But sometimes she fears her emotions will lead her back into the fog or abyss known as depression once more. But this time, she looks at her wrist and thinks: ” If I do, then my tattoo would mean nothing.” As Bryant H. McGill once said, “The worst bullies you will ever encounter in your life are your own thoughts.”

This has been story time with


Thank you for listening.