All this for a ring?

                    According to Taylor, Craig should have proposed months before he did.  But Craig was in NO rush. He was waiting for the perfect situation (or he was just terrified of commitment). So when his family planned a 40-mile backpacking trip through the Grand Canyon, that was his cue. Luckily Craig proposed on the trip because it might be the only part of the trip they can smile about. Sure, the two lovebirds love nature and hiking, but this trip was more like a hike through hell. It all started when they set their tent up on the ostensibly safe sandy shore of the Colorado River. They needed a place to store their 50-pound packs while they went to explore a nearby waterfall. 

          After a few hours they headed back to their tent and to find it and their packs in 10 inches of water and precariously close to being swept away by the river. Since when does the level of the Colorado River fluctuate hourly??? Their packs were soaked--clothes, sleeping bags, food, phone, EVERYTHING. After laying all the contents of their packs out to dry on the rocks like a disorganized garage sale, saying a few choice words that started with F and S, and setting up camp on higher, and hopefully safer, grounds they went to bed praying for a better day ahead. 

Trying to dry our stuff before the sun goes down

          Little did they know the next day would be the worst day of them all. Brock, Craig, Bryan, Paige, and Taylor started to hike at 6:30am in an effort to avoid the scorching midday sun. They had 9 miles of hiking before they were supposed to find a spring to filter more water from. Well, after 9 miles of hiking and about one liter of water left between the five of them, they found the spring bone dry. Not a single drop of water. Now it was 11:30am and the day was hot (about 95 degrees). Panic began setting in as they realized they would either have to hike 9 miles back down to the river to get water, or continue forward on the trail and hope to find some other source of water. Their hopes were low but they decided to continue hiking forward. After a few miles and still no water optimism, friendliness, and resilience quickly faded replaced by spite, rage, despondence, and mind-altering thirst. As if the lack of water and the heat weren't threatening enough, Taylor's body decided that an asthma attack would be a nice addition to the adventure. An inhaler would have been convenient but of course she left it at home. Craig felt helpless because all he could do was comfort her and tell her to breathe (over and over and over again), but little did he know he was a huge reason she was able to calm down and breathe easy again. Shortly after that incident, Craig's older brother Brock began showing signs of severe heat exhaustion resulting in a very dramatic removal of all his clothes but his underwear. They were all desperate for water so they tried press forward with the search but Brock was not doing well so they decided it was time to find shade and hangout until the sun went down. At this point the one liter of water they were salvaging was gone. Channeling his hours of watching Naked and Afraid Bryan attempted to wring water out of yucca stalks. Together they share the one teaspoon of yucca juice.  Desperate times call for desperate measures. So they cut up the limes they were saving for a later meal and sucked all the juice from it that they could. It wasn't enough. The next attempt was Brock opening the canned chicken he had in his pack and shotgunning the chicken juice. It must have been pretty gross because he spent the next few minutes gagging. After an hour of resting, Taylor and Craig were getting anxious and worried so they decided to leave the group and hike a little further to find any sign of water. There was another spring on the map a few miles away but after being pranked once by the map, the group was not too optimistic.  By some miracle they came across a pothole (5 feet across and 2.5 feet deep) full of old rainwater, hundreds of tadpoles, who knows how many parents of those tadpoles, and a layer of dead bugs. Taylor yelled up to the group "Eureka, we found water" and the rest quickly ran down to met up with them (Brock had quickly paused to put back on some of his clothes). They had never been so happy to drink from something so disgusting (they filtered it of course).

However, after 2 hours of standing in the pothole and filtering water for the group, Brock yelled "Taylor, get out of the water. NOW". She turned around to see why he was so serious and that's when she saw the 3 foot black and white snake slither towards her in the water. Taylor had done a good job of staying optimistic up until this point. The snake was the stick that broke the camel's back. She jumped out of the hole, carelessly spilled a liter of freshly filtered water, and was screaming things like "I'm done with this trip", " I hate the stupid Grand Canyon", and "I don't do snakes!" 

She left Brock and Bryan in the pothole to finish filtering water while she went to grab her backpack and to help set up camp for the night. As if the day couldn't get worse, she picked up her pack to see thousands of red ants covering the entire thing. She kicked her bag (which stubbed her toe), started crying and walked away while telling Craig she was "done". Craig—being the gentleman that he is—brought her pack back to camp, took out everything inside, found and discarded the open food Taylor had foolishly left exposed in her pack, and got rid of all the ants. After a large chicken burrito dinner and being well hydrated, everyone's spirits seemed much higher. A new sense of hope was instilled in the group but they still couldn't wait to wake up and get the heck out of the wilderness. As the sun dropped and the moon came up, so did the bats, which meant Taylor, citing an irrational fear of the creatures, was in a hurry to get secured into her tent. Just as she was zipping herself up into her sleeping bag, Craig says "Hey, let's go look at stars". In her head Taylor was thinking are you freaking kidding me??? Look at stars?? With Bats and bugs all over the place? After a traumatic day like today?? Taylor promptly told him no and shut her eyes. But then Craig changed the question into a demand. "We haven't had any alone time, so we are going to look at stars. Get up". Taylor reluctantly got out her tent and they walked away from the camp to find a place to sit down. After a few minutes of talking and trying to find the constellations, Taylor's hand touched a black case that was next to her on the ground. She turned her headlamp on to see that there was a pocket knife case beside her. She told Craig that one of his brothers must have dropped it and he asked her to open it up to see who's it was. That's when it happened. She pulled the knife out and noticed a sparkling ring at the bottom of the case. Although she had been waiting months for this moment, she was not expecting it, especially after a day like today. She quickly turned her headlamp off so that he wouldn't see her blush and cry. Craig told her to stand up so that he could properly propose. After he asked if she would marry him, she couldn't stop talking (it's what she does when she's nervous). She told Craig how cute and brave he was, she told him how much she loved him, and she also told him that she's been mentally engaged to him for the past 6 months. But in all of her blabbing, she forgot to say YES. So Craig had to ask again and she said yes, twice :). After the proposal, Taylor was practically hiking on clouds and everything seemed to past by in a blissful blur of cacti, lizard, and occasional sips of water. All that matter was she made it out of the canyon alive, with one finger a little heavier than it had been before she started. 

Oh, and excuse our french sign language but this is truly how we feel about the Grand Canyon...

   

This one's for Lady Gaga (and you)

To the people who criticized Lady Gaga’s “belly fat"... 

You just perpetuated the impossible, ridiculous, unhealthy—and quite frankly, stupid—societal expectations of what a person should look like. 

Aside from the ludicrous posts and tweets that I read calling attention to Lady Gaga’s “flabby” stomach, I overheard a woman say, “if you’re going to go on national TV and show off your body, at least do some crunches and try make your body look good.” After overhearing that, my blood’s boiling point was lowered to 98.6 degrees, steam was coming out of my ears, and my next blog idea surfaced. 

To be honest, I’m not a huge Lady Gaga fan so I don’t want you to get the idea that I’m writing this because I want to defend HER. I’m writing this because I want to defend EVERYONE. I’m writing this because I want to defend YOU. Yes, even those who publicly shamed her. 

It's comments like the ones about Lady Gaga that trick all of us into thinking that we are what we look like. It's judgmental comments like those that fool us into believing that the pinnacle of our existence is how skinny or fit we can be. It's comments like those that devalue actual health and give space to unhealthy eating practices—whether it is disordered eating or a full blown eating disorder. It's comments like those that provoke feelings of self-hate, depression, and anxiety—not only for those who you share them with but for yourself as well.

The unrealistic standard of beauty may have originated in the media, but its fueled and promulgated by us whenever we talk down about the way a person looks. By speaking negatively about someone's body, you’re giving life to an unrealistic ideal that is hurting you and everyone you know. When you criticize the way a person looks, you’re ultimately stacking your own cards against humanity. And guess what? YOU are a part of humanity. You’re stacking your own cards against yourself. How? Well, when you decide to comment on a person's body, you're reducing everything they are—their amazing human complexity—down to their shape and figure. Whether you like it or not, you've also just reduced yourself. You're making a statement and that statement says, "all your talent, all the good you do, everything you stand for and represent, all your accomplishments, all the things that make you unique, are not as important as how fit or skinny you are." You essentially rob yourself of all the substantial value you bring to this world.

However, just as we can give power to this disparaging standard of beauty, we can also take that power back by changing the messages we spread. You and I both know that you are so much more than a body. There is a depth and a beauty to you that cannot and should not be chiseled down to what size of jeans you wear. We must not chisel anyone else down in the same insidious way because we can't do it to someone else without doing it to ourselves.  

I’m not writing this from a pedestal. I have been the mouth behind TOO MANY unkind comments regarding other people's looks and bodies, so I’m speaking to myself as much as I’m speaking to you. I urge all of us to stand up for ourselves by biting our tongue when we feel inclined to judge another person by their body. It might not seem heroic when you do it, but you truly are changing the world. No one benefited by the rude remarks directed towards Lady Gaga, but we all benefit when we decide to value humans for who they are and not for their bodies. 

    

For my ride or die

I don't even know how many times I've put my laptop on my lap (whoa...the name makes way too much sense now), wrote a few paragraphs, and then promptly deleted everything on the screen. All I know is that the number would be in the double digits. I'm not sure why its been so hard for me to write lately. I think its a mixture of being worried that people will hate what I produce, being a newly wed and having my life as I once knew it abruptly and beautifully uprooted, and trying to finish the Harry Potter series (for the first time ever!) before the year is over. But my husband says those are all poor excuses for giving the cold shoulder to one of my greatest passions.

Speaking of my husband. I'm writing this post today because its his birthday!!! He's turning 29, but I prefer to tell him that he's almost 30. He hates that. Anyway, if there is one thing that I can do to make him happy, it would be to finally get back to doing what makes ME happy, and that's writing. Luckily for me, I get to ease back into this whole writing thing by writing about the most straightforward and uncomplicated topic in my life: how wonderful my husband is (because its his birthday!!). After this I have promised him I would get back to writing about the more messy, perplexing, and tangled part of my life—recovery (and all the things that come wrapped up in it).

Okay before I go any further, let me introduce you to my husband so I can stop calling him husband and call him by his name (because using the word husband still freaks me out). His name is Craig. For the rest of this post, that is what I will be calling him.

The majority of the people reading this post are probably my friends and family so I don't need to point out that I got married four months and five days ago, but I just pointed it out anyway because a few weeks ago we were asked how long we've been married and, because I'm not sentimental and cutesy, I had no clue. I felt kind of bad, so this is me redeeming myself.

Craig.

I was going to do one of those "29 reasons you're amazing" lists but I did that last year with "28" and I really don't think I can come up with another reason ;)
Instead, I want to let you know what a great teacher you are. No, I'm not talking about your job as a professor at Dixie State. I'm talking about your job as my husband. Little did you know that when you married me, you were signing up to be a lifelong teacher to little old me. And I'm seriously the luckiest women alive because I get to learn from the best.

Here are five lessons I have learned or are currently learning from you:

You're teaching me to think for myself
One of the most incredible moments I've had with you happened in a conversation we were having about my eating disorder (E.D) and my struggle to recover. I remember it very well. I was lamenting about how hard it was for me to let go of E.D. This was the conversation:

Craig: What's the worst thing that will happen if you give up your eating disorder and recover?
Me: I'll gain weight
Craig: So...?
Me: I'll be fat.
Craig: And...?
Me:...

It was then I realized how shallow and trifling my whole ideology was (and still sometimes is). 

This is just one of the many times that you have prodded me to stop and question societal dogma and it's amazing how many things I've assumed to be truths that are actually complete bull crap—like this notion that if you're not skinny then your somehow not good enough. 

You're teaching me that it's okay to fail 
I recently let you in on one of my deepest insecurities: not getting into the BYU nursing program. TWICE. I didn't realize how much that rejection was ruining my life until you pointed out that I was assuming being rejected meant I was a reject. The lack of acceptance was keeping me from taking anymore risks. However, since our conversation, I have begun to consider different paths that will require effort, hard work, and ultimately, the dreaded application process. I just want you to know that I wouldn't have had the courage to even think about putting myself out there again if it wasn't for you.

You're teaching me how to be financially literate
I know you're going to be shocked to hear this, but you know those weekly money meetings you make us have? The ones where you talk about our current finances and I usually tune out and get on instagram because money has always stressed me out? Yeah, well believe it or not, I love that you set those up and I'm lucky to have married someone so smart and organized with their money. I knew next to nothing about finances when we met (I didn't even keep my money in a bank, I kept it in my underwear drawer), and I know I still have a lot to learn, but I've already come a long way because of you and I'm so grateful.  

You're providing the space and patience for me to learn how to cook
**Yes, you heard it right. Craig is the cook in our household. No, I don't force him to do it. He actually just enjoys it and he's incredible at it. I, on the other hand, do not enjoy anything that goes on in a kitchen except the actual eating a meal. To be honest, I think I'm just a perfectionist and I don't like trying things that I'm not already good at (e.g. cooking). For this reason, I was stressing out about becoming a wife. But we have an agreement that I will cook twice a week, and I'm actually starting to look forward to my days now. Also, can I just say how grateful I am to be married to someone who doesn't buy into gender roles??

You're teaching me how to love myself
I'm not sure if you remember this, but a few months ago you had a conversation with me that changed my life. It was a few weeks into our engagement and I was having an especially hard time feeling good about myself. I had been making some pretty hateful comments about myself and I was on verge of a relapse when you said you needed to talk to me about something important that night. When we finally sat down to talk, it was one of the more sobering moments we've ever had together. You wanted me to know that when I'm not kind to myself and when I say hurtful things about my looks, my worth, or my abilities, it hurts you too. I'll never forget that night because that was when I learned that loving myself wasn't just something I needed to do for my own good, but I was also something I needed to do for the people whom I love and who love me in return. 

Well, those are just a few of the many wonderful things I've learned by having you as my...ride or die (notice I didn't use the word husband). I can't wait to see what this list will look like when I'm 80. Anyway, I want to go spend some time with you now so I'm going to be done writing. But thank you for picking me to be your wife! Happy Birthday!! 

Good News Bears!

I have the most amazing news! I've been wanting to share it for some time now, but I can't seem to string my words together in a way that I find does it justice. Each time I try to write about it, the combination of words I come up with completely miscarry the magnitude of it all. But after several weeks of keeping this all in, the excitement has become tainted with guilt from a sin of omission. I have—as we all do—unique experiences that position me to help others. There are many ways we can each use our experiences to support, lift, and inspire others and I believe that writing is one of my ways. So at the risk of devaluing my greatest accomplishment with inadequate words, I'm going to share it with the world in hopes that someone can find inspiration.

First, a little background:

I've been a prisoner of bulimia for the past 6 years.

I checked into a rehab center for 4 months in 2013 in hopes of obtaining sovereignty from the prison I call ED (eating disorder).

After I was discharged from rehab I thought I was healed, but to my disappointment (and the disappointment of all those who love me) I relapsed immediately. You see, rehab was a forced recovery. I was under 24 hour supervision and didn't have the option of indulging in bulimia. I had to eat every morsel of food given to me during the 3 meals and 3 snacks. If I failed to consume all the food I was given, I was "Boost"-ed (this is rehab slang for: forced to drink a meal replacement shake that contained the same amount of calories I refused to eat). After every meal, I was not allowed to use the restroom for at least 30 minutes, and anytime I did use the restroom I had to leave the door cracked open while one of the Care Technicians stood just outside. But wait, it gets worse. After I was done using the restroom, I wasn't allowed to flush my own toilet, so the lady standing outside of the door had to come in and flush it for me. Talk about embarrassment. I even had restrictions on burning calories. I wasn't allowed to exercise any more or any less than they permitted. Oh, and if I was ever caught shaking my foot back and forth while I was sitting, I was asked to stop because they knew exactly what my motive was: I was trying to burn extra calories. I also couldn't get away with exercising in my room at night because they checked on me every 15 minutes. Even through the absurdities, I was able to realize that this unconventional way of life was—at that time—for my best interest. But once I was released to go home, stripped of the rigid rules and returned the freedom to make my own decisions, I reverted back to my old harmful behaviors.

I spent the next two and a half years trying to get a grip on my life and rip it from the locked jaw of my eating disorder. Every time I gave into ED, I promised myself it was the last time. However, my resolve always seemed to disintegrate within just a few hours and I would end up face to face with the toilet bowl pledging to the same promise: Taylor, this is the last time. But as time went by, my fight grew weak. I began to imagine what living the rest my life in the clutches of my addiction would be like and, in all honesty, it seemed more bearable than living under the cloak of shame that came with trying to recover and failing. every. damn. time. The shame I put on myself when I lost the fight to ED—on a daily, sometimes hourly basis—was harrowing. Wanting something so badly and then giving it all my energy and effort only to watch it fall and shatter even worse than it did last time is painful. So I stopped. I stopped fighting. I gave up. I surrendered. And as the wave of acquiescence crashed on top of me, I packed recovery away in a box just like I did my stuffed animals from childhood. A box kept for sentimental purposes but a box that I never really intended to open again.

So there I was, fully capitulated to my addiction. I guess you could say we were in a monogamist relationship; I had no time or desire for anything or anyone else. I was living in a one-dimensional world that revolved around satisfying my eating disorder. I gave into every urge without hesitation. My eating disorder took on the normalcy and priority of taking shower—it's just something I had to make time for in my day. What I couldn't seem to find time for was my family, my friends, my hobbies, self-care, my education or anything else that brought joy and meaning to my life. And even when I was with my family or friends, I was never present. My mind was always fixated on the food that was in the room and whether or not I was going to completely refrain from eating anything, or stealthily binge on all of it. And if I chose to binge, then my next preoccupation was how am I going to get away from everyone so that I could throw it all up. ED stole all of my time, energy, and thoughts.

After several months of willingly traveling through life shackled to the ball and chain of my eating disorder, I started to panic. Sure, I thought life was currently going just fine for me. I had a job that supplied me with money to support myself (and ED, that has costed me more than I'm willing to admit). I had top-of-the-line family and friends (none of which I saw much because ED was so demanding of my time). And I was healthy (though my doctor said it was only a matter of time before ED started taking an permanent toll on my life). Okay so maybe life wasn't going that well... and do you want to know what really had me worried? My future family. What kind of wife would I be with ED as my constant companion? My husband wouldn't just be marrying me, he would be marrying me and ED—a love triangle that no one should have to be a part of. What about my children? What kind mother would I be with a disorder that requires more attention than a newborn? If I had already become content with missing family gatherings and other important events just so I could appease ED, I can only imagine how easy it would be to miss my daughters' science fair or my son's piano performance. Or worst of all...what if I couldn't even keep my body healthy enough to create any children of my own?

So...remember that box? You know, the one that I stuffed my hopes of recovery in? Along with my grit, fortitude and self-respect? Yes, that one. Well, I decided to go find and unpack the box. So with the unconditional love and help from family, friends, my boyfriend, doctors, therapists, God, and myself, I was able to revive my recovery. Not only has the box been opened, but its contents have been ever-present in my life for the past 144 days.

I'm going to say it again.

I HAVE BEEN FREE FROM THE EATING DISORDER FOR 144 DAYS!

Just to give you perspective—prior to this, the longest I was ever able to go without giving into my disorder was 12 days. And it happened only twice in the 6 years I struggled. So I never thought I would live to see recovery day 13 let alone recovery day 144!

It feels SO good. For the past 6 years I've merely been existing just for the purpose of existing, and now I'm relearning what it feels like to actually live. With ED at bay, I have found time to do things that give me back a feeling of purpose and pride. Instead of spending lonely, dark nights with ED, I've become acquainted with John Steinbeck and Maya Angelou. I've deepened my relationship with the people I care about most. I have reframed my life and have taken risks ED formerly robbed me of the confidence and time to take.  I've never been so proud of myself. And yes, I'm bragging. But part of why I wanted to share this with all of you is because I want to offer my story as a source of hope to those who may be struggling with an addiction or problem of their own. If that's you, I'm here to say DON'T GIVE UP THE FIGHT. I know it's exhausting. I know how many times you've said "this is the last time." I know you've failed more times than you can count. I know you're enveloped in shame and defeat. I know the deafening loneliness that comes from silent struggle. And I know you may want to (or already have) raise the white flag and surrender to whatever is trying to drag you down. But do you want to know what else I know? I know you have more strength within you than you can ever imagine. It may be buried deep under the shame and frustration, but it is there. It doesn't matter how "screwed up" you are or how long you've been struggling. The strength and resilience we inherit as humans beings is vast and powerful. It's just a matter of finding it.

In my next few posts, I am going to expound the tools and concepts that helped me and continue to guide me through recovery. And if you know someone struggling through an addiction please share this with them!


fight the good fight,

Tay

Oh, the things I've done to be who I'm not.

Oh, the things I've done to be who I'm not.

Like...

Standing in front of my mirror for 1.5 hours so that I could press my beautiful curls between a 425 degree flat iron in an effort to somewhat resemble the straight hair of my Caucasian female peers.

or...

Leaving Disneyland after only a few short hours to go sit in the hotel and read so that my skin wouldn't get "too" dark, because my ignorant ex told me super dark girls weren't attractive (bless his soul, please).

Ooo, or my personal favorite...

Awkwardly sitting sideways in the passenger seat of the car so that the cute guy taking me on a date wouldn't be able to see my side profile. Because if he saw my side profile, he would get a good look at my nose, which I was told looked like a bird nose. I've been embarrassed by it ever since.

Wait. No. THIS is my favorite.

Letting down my entire cheer team by skipping our weekly team weight lifting AND becoming a vegetarian so that I could diminish the muscular frame that I was BLESSED with because I was told I looked too "manly".


And what did I get for all of these desperate attempts to change how I looked?
Straight hair? Yes.
Lighter brown skin? Yup.
A new nose? unfortunately no...
Muscle loss? You betchya. *along with no energy and a slower metabolism #notwinning*

But what about happiness? Did I get that? I mean, that is what we are all going for, is it not? I know It's what I'm striving for. And it's what I thought I would get by going the extra mile (or 45 miles) to painstakingly change what I looked like. Because:

straighthair+justtherightskintone+perfectnose+skinny=Happiness....RIGHT?

Well, after years of trying to manipulate my appearance to fit this formula, I'm relieved to report that the answer is actually no... I think. But don't take my word for it. I did spent the duration of my math classes talking to boys so equations aren't my strong suit. I'm Great at flirting though. like B+ (would have said A+ but I'm still not married so apparently I have room for improvement).

ANYWAY. Back to my point.

I've spent all this time and energy to try and look like someone other than what I actually look like in effort to find happiness and to become more comfortable in my own skin. But after pridefully trying this technique for far too long, I discovered that I have become MORE uncomfortable with who I am. I've grown increasingly self-conscious. I've become excessively aware of what I look like at all times, which has also made me unhealthily aware of what those around me look like (who do I think I am?? Judge Judy??).

Now, after straightening my hair so much that I severely damaged it, turning down pool party after pool party because heaven forbid my dark skin get darker, pretending to laugh so that I could casually cover my "Kobe Bryant"  nose (as one guy called it), quitting track and field because my thighs got too bulky, and living years foregoing a delicious ground beef patty to replace it with its not-nearly-as-tasty cousin--veggie patty--to deliberately atrophy my own muscle, it finally hit me like the bus that hits Regina George in Mean Girls:

Until I learn to love myself and be comfortable with my natural self, I'll be living subpar to true happiness and authenticity.

So I've decided to embrace myself by learning to love me. The real me. The curly-haired, sun-loving, dark-skinned, pointy-noised, muscular-framed, hamburger-eating me. As I fight to love this vessel that God sent me to Earth in, I'm discovering a kind of joy that I haven't felt since childhood, when happiness wasn't conflated with my image. The self-acceptance has been gradual not radical, and I still have some ground to cover, but it's happening, and I've never felt so empowered.



PROGRESS REPORT

• This weekend I enjoyed my first hamburger in over two years. It was so good that I almost thought maybe hamburgers=all the happiness you could ever need.  

• This month marks two years since I've straightened my hair! I'm loving my curls more and move every day. Even when they have a mind of their own and refuse to do anything I want them to do. Which is every day.

#luvtherealyou

Thank you X5

Mom (also known as Mamba),

Thank you for always holding at least 3 jobs so that I never went without. You probably thought you were just providing for me financially, but you also taught me an amazing work ethic that will bless me for my entire life.

Thank you for caring for special needs individuals in our home for as long as I can remember. For you it was a job, for me it was a learning experience. I learned to see past differences and accept all kinds of people. 

Thank you for learning to forgive my dad and working hard to have a civil relationship with him—even after he broke your heart. And thank you for not pressuring me to hate him. It wasn’t (and still isn’t) easy for you, but it was the kindling that started my journey of forgiving him. Because of your example, I am able to have a relationship with my dad that I value, rather than one that causes me grief.  

Thank you for exposing me to the church even though you yourself did not want to be apart of it. I used to focus on your lack of activity in the church, however, now I’m just grateful that you encouraged me to be a part of it. You had me blessed and baptized. You always suggested that I go to church but never forced it upon me. And you’ve never tried to talk me out of being a part of it. I want to work on being as supportive of your beliefs as you are of mine.     

Lastly, I just want to say thank you for being patient with me. I know our relationship has been a source of pain for the last several years, but even after all the harsh words I’ve thrown at you and all the guilt trips I’ve given you tickets to, you’ve never deserted me. I’ve enjoyed the growth our relationship has undergone this past year and I cant wait to see it flourish even more. You are the definition of an amazing mother. 

I love you mostess, hostess, twinkies and cupcakes

holes.

We all have holes inside of us. Emotional wounds that have yet to heal. Some are there because of something someone else did, and many are the result of our own actions. Either way, they're there, and I'm here to tell you that we can't afford to waste anymore energy thinking about the why or who's fault it is.

First let me say this:

I do believe it's important to understand where our holes come from and why, but that can only get you so far--and it's not very far, trust me. I know this because I've spent the last year looking at why I have holes only to look back and see that its gotten me nowhere. I'm still here, and the holes are still there--gapping. So now? Now it's time to stop focusing on the WHY. Why? Because the energy we posses is so, so valuable and unfortunately it's not unlimited. We can only give our energy to so many things and the WHY of our wounds should no longer be a recipient. It's time we invest more into WHAT we are going to do about it and HOW. 

WHAT?

So now that you're done with the why (because you are...right??), you have 2 options. Choose wisely. 

1. Walk around life like a wounded bird. 

or 

2. Fill those holes with light and let it help you guide others

*HINT: Pick the 2nd option

HOW?

I think light comes from God. So essentially I'm telling you to fill yourself with God, but I realize that seems daunting or unrealistic for some of you. To be honest, when I think of it like that, it seems like too big of a task for me too. I feel like I'm too far away and too unworthy to be filled with God's light.  But then I realize I'm looking at it all wrong. I may not feel worth of God right now but I can and should feel worthy to DO Godly things. Once you start doing more of these things, you realize you're a lot closer to Him than you thought, and his light will flood your wounded soul pretty quickly. Here are a few ways to do this: 

Love everyone--and I mean EVERYONE. Not just the nice people and not just those who are easy to love. Yep, you gotta love the annoying people too. 

Serve others. Service doesn't have to be manual labor. Service can be as simple as writing a note to someone who is going through a hard time. 

Be full of gratitude. Actively seek for things throughout your day that you are grateful for. Even something as small as someone holding the door open for you. Write a few of these things down each night. Or simply say a prayer thanking God for these things. 

Love yourself in the NOW. We have to stop saving our self-love for our future, more perfect, more fit, more organized, more successful selves. We must love who we are right now or we won't have a reason to heal and improve. 

Forgive all people.  Just remember, forgiveness is a heavy task, but its lighter than holding a grudge. 

And the last idea I'm going to give seems strange but I can almost feel light flooding my soul when I do it...

SMILE MORE! Especially at strangers. It seems weird, but I can't tell you how many times my day was brightened when a stranger simply smiled at me. It's such an easy way to let God's light shine through you. 

These are just a few ways we can fill ourself with light, but I know there are more! If you have other ideas, I would love it if you left it in a comment below!

This is a picture I took over the weekend in Southern Utah. Its actually what inspired this post. Thanks for reading it!

So much more than a bracelet

I have this amazing friend. Her name is Shayli. I met about two years ago. Not long after becoming friends, I learned that she had an older sister named Chelsi (about 3 years older than us). You could tell by that way Shayli spoke of her that she truly looked up to her sister. Although I had never met Chelsi before, I was already sure of a few things. CHELSI WAS DETERMINED. If she wanted to accomplish something, she accomplished it. An example that came to mind is her determination as a track and field athlete. In high school she was determined to be the best. That hard work is shown through the many high school track records she set and finally by her making the BYU track team. CHELSI WAS A MOTIVATOR. She is one of those people that you meet, and from then on you are instantly motivated to become a better person. Not only does she care about her own goals and success, but she also cares deeply about the success of the people around her. One specific phrase that Shayli associates with her sister is "NEVER GIVE UP". She told me that's always Chelsi's advice to anyone. Something else I was able to understand about Chelsi through the words of Shayli is that CHELSI WAS SOMEONE YOU WANT IN YOUR LIFE. You meet her, and from then on you gotta have her around. Just from hearing Shayli talk about her sister, I knew how amazing she was, and I hadn't even met her yet.

Unfortunately, my chance to meet her is never going to come.

(at least not on Earth)

Chelsi had just finished up her first season on the BYU track and field team (not to mention a successful season for her). Instead of going back to her St. George home, she was staying in Provo for the summer to continue training to become even stronger and faster than she already was. However, that ambition was cut short. On Friday, June 6, 2008, Chelsi was killed in a car accident that would forever change the lives of anyone who was lucky enough to come in contact with her.  (a link to the news report is at the bottom of this post)

Although I never got the chance to meet Chelsi, I consider myself so lucky to have her sister and whole family in my life. They exemplify everything that Chelsi was. They are one of the strongest families I know. Being surrounded by their families strength has been such a blessing in my life. If you meet them, you would never guess that they have been through the loss of a daughter/sister. I know one thing that keeps them going is the fact that they have the gospel in their lives.

They know that if they live righteously, they will be with her in heaven again as a whole family.

In honor of Chelsi, we wear these bracelets on our wrist. On the bracelet is her favorite advice to anyone, "NEVER GIVE UP"

I have had this band for about 2 years now, and it wasn't until a few days ago that I found more meaning for it. I was sitting at work, and I happen to glance down at my wrist and saw the bracelet. Then it really hit me that tomorrow is never promised to us. I have heard people say that before, but it never really crossed my mind that today could be my last day. Chelsi had no clue that the night she got in that car would be her last night here on earth with her family and friends. 

So I encourage you all (myself included) to try and remember the people who lose their lives everyday and what they wish they might have done or said before they died. I would never want to leave anyone hurt, so I'm working on focusing the way I treat and talk to people. Sometimes I might say something rude or upset someone I care about, but I just tell myself "I'll make it right..later"...so what happens when later never comes?? and that's my point.

live in such a way that will be satisfying when no more days lay ahead of you. 

Click here for Chelsi's News report

  

 

2013: The Good Stuff.

It's

bitter

SWEET

to see 2013 walk out the door.

 Notice that the word bitter is really tiny and the word sweet is huge. 

That more accurately describes to what extent I'm feeling each of them. 

Yep, just a little bit bitter and a lot a bit sweet, because honestly, 2013 was a roller coaster that I was well ready to get off of. 

Then again, every year seems to be a roller coaster and I really think thats how it's supposed to be, so I guess what I really mean is that I'm ready for a different roller coaster now. 

Anyway, I was looking through my pictures from the past year, and it made me realize that mixed in with all the hard stuff that happened, there was a lot of good stuff meshed in with it. So in memory of twenty thirteen, I'm going to share some of the good stuff. 

I learned to mountain bike.

Guys! It is SO fun.

If you've never tried it, I highly recommend it.

Cruising down a mountain on a bike, and not knowing if you'll actually stay on the bike or if your body is going to not-so-gently kiss the ground sounds scary, but its actually......okay yeah, it is scary. It's fun though!! 

One of the most exhilarating experiences I've ever had. 

And my mountain biking experiences wouldn't have been possible without this guy. One of the greatest human beings I have ever had the privilege of being around.

I went to Moab, Utah for the very first time. 

                                Which also included seeing Arches National park for the first time. 
                                      How have I lived in this state my whole life and never
                                                            been here before now? 
     I'm so lucy to live here! Everyone bashes Utah for its lack of cultural diversity, and I'll agree    with that, but the diversity you can find in our landscapes make up for it :)   

3 of my greatest friends asked me to be apart of 

one of the greatest days of their lives. Pretty soon, the 27 dresses movie will be my reality though. Kinda sad.  

Although it was a shameful experience to say goodbye to my team and my schooling, mid-semester, so that I could get help with my eating disorder, it was this experience that taught me what being apart of this team really means. Not only does this team root for all of the sports teams at BYU, but this team also roots for each other. I wouldn't have made it through this year with out these amazing people on my side cheering for me. There were times that I hit rock bottom and planned to just stay there, but then one of these amazing girls (or boys) would say just the right thing to pick me back up.  

In treatment I had the opportunity (a.k.a. I was FORCED) to do art on a daily basis. Prior to this, I hated art. I claimed it just wasn't my thing. But once I let go of the expectation that my art had to look professional, I secretly had a lot of fun doing it. There is something meditative about creating something that's exclusively your own.   

I discovered that even when you can't go inside the temple, there is still a very unique peace that can be found by simply being in the presence of a temple. Until the weather got awful, I liked to go and just sit on the temple grounds and write in my journal, or read. I always found the serenity that I was looking for. I encourage anyone that needs a little comfort, but can't go in the temple, to just go and sit out side of it. Here are a few of my favorite pictures I took this year at the Provo, Utah Temple. 

This year, I gained a passion for reading. I was never much of a reader before, but I decided to give it a shot.  

WOW. 

Had I been missing out or what?? 

reading >>>movies 

My mom was pleased to hear about my new found interest in reading because she, too, loves to read. One of my favorite memories with my mom this year was going up the Provo canyon and just reading with her by the river. Not many words were said between us, but I felt that it was the most connected I had felt to my mom in a long time.  

Originally, my plan was to get out of treatment and just work for a few months and then apply to nursing school. 

Too bad life never really follows my directions.
 I'm really glad it didn't though because instead, I got the chance to go back to BYU, graduate, and cheer for one more year. The way I had originally left BYU and my cheer team was anything but ideal, so now I get to finish the right way and I'm so incredibly thankful.

Being with a group of people who share not only my love for cheerleading but also my love for the Gospel was something I hadn't fully appreciated until this year. 

I got to travel to Notre Dame. No bid deal ;) Coolest campus I've ever seen!!

OH! But before I decided to go back and cheer, I was able to attend my first BYU football game AS A FAN! In all my years at BYU, I had never watched a game from the stands so I had to take this picture. It's very different from being on the sidelines, but enjoyable in its own way.  

The last and most recent experience I had was moving out of my moms house. 

(It's about time Tay.)

I don't have pics yet, but I'll post about it soon. For now, I'll just say that its been one of the best decisions I've made this year. I love my family to death, but there are things I have learned by moving out that I never would have learned otherwise. 

*post coming soon*

I can honestly say that I'm proud of myself and where I'm at in life right now. I have a looooong way to go and lots to learn, but I'm content with who I am and where I'm headed. I haven't felt this type of motivation and optimism about my life in years. I never would have thought that I would be ending the year with the biggest grin on my face. 

2013....you won't be missed but I do thank you for everything you taught me.

13 facts. 0 lies.

1.
When I was younger, I was home alone and found my little dog being strangled by his own leash. I cut the leash off but he still wasn't breathing, so being the aspiring nurse that I am, I did the only thing I could think of. CPR. Yeah...I gave my dog mouth-to-mouth. Before you start making fun of me and telling me how disgusting that is, you must know I did save his life! But sometimes, when he pees in my room, like he did two nights ago, I wish I would have let him die. 
  

2.

In high school, I absolutely despised being 5'10''. I desperately wanted to be shorter (probably because I was taller than all the guys at the time). But now? I desperately wish I was taller. Like 6 foot. Or even 6'1''.

3.
I'm overly concerned about what others think about me. In fact, I'm really nervous to post this because it's not my typical inspirational post and I'm worried what you'll all think. But I'm challenging myself and I'm going to post it anyway.

4.

Unlike most girls, I refuse to think about my future wedding until I absolutely have to (and from the looks of things, I don't think I'll be doing it any time soon). However, as backwards as it may seem, I have managed to pick out all the names of my future children. I wish I could share them with you but they're pretty cool and you'll probably steal them.

5.

I used find myself constantly criticizing how people looked and it got really annoying. So now when I catch myself judging someones appearance, I make myself think of two or three things that I actually like about them or their looks instead. Not that I'm criticism free, but it’s been really helpful so far.

6.

Contrary to popular belief, my favorite type of music is not rap.
(but Tay...you're black..)
I know, sorry to disappoint.  
My favorite music genres are actually country, and reggae. And Christmas of course.

7.

Speaking of Christmas, I used to be very easy to please. When I was 5-years old, this was my entire Christmas list:

1. A real life stop sign.

2. An air freshener.

*Santa really shouldn’t have, but he spoiled me that year and got me both.

8.

My little sister, Raygan, was born when I was 8-years old. For some unknown reason I insisted on being in the room while she was delivered. My mom failed to tell me that when brown babies are born, they usually don't get their pigment right away. So when my little sister came out and didn't appear to be brown, I yelled--in a very concerning tone-- "Mother! She's white!"
The doctor almost dropped her because he was laughing so hard.

9.

Growing up, I hated BYU and had no desire to attend college there. My high school friends and I would even drive around the BYU campus during our lunch break and throw things at their students. (super mature, I know). But after being convinced to try out for the BYU cheer team and making the cut, I decided to give BYU a shot, and it was the best decision I have ever made. Being a part of BYU and the cheer team has rekindled my testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and essentially got me active in my church.

10.

I consider myself to be pretty dang book smart, but when it comes to street smarts...let's just say I was in the back of that line in Heaven and they ran out before I could get any.

11.

I struggle knowing my lefts and rights. NO matter how much I practice, I always mess it up when I'm giving someone directions. 

12.

My biggest fear is being in a natural disaster. Also, I'm deathly afraid of lightning and thunder storms. Whenever a storm is passing through, I make sure that I'm not wearing any metal because metal conducts electricity. So this means that all my jewelry comes off as well as my pants (because jeans have metal buttons!) I won't even eat with metal silver wear until the storm is over. 

13.

Im convinced that I would be happier if I could just go live in a jungle somewhere. No clothes. No money. No technology. Just nature.     

Enough!

I just spent the last 2 years of my life trying to convince a man that I was good enough.

Pretty enough.

Motherly enough.

Smart enough.

Funny enough.

Domestic enough.

Skinny enough.

Spiritual enough.

and worthy of unconditional love.

It's now been 2 and a half months since that man decided he no longer wanted to be apart of my life. For a good portion of those months, I believed it all happened because maybe I wasn't actually good enough. Or perhaps I just fell short of convincing him that I was.

That's where I had it all wrong.

It wasn't he who needed to be convinced, it was me.

How am I just now figuring this out??

I wish I was writing this to tell you that I have finally been able to convince myself of my own worth, and how you can too, but after years of it being overlooked, it's going to take some time to come back into view. It's coming though. I can feel it.

For now, I'm just going to revel in the fact that I at least realized the mistake I was making, and plead with the rest of you to avoid making it a mistake of your own (or if you're already making this mistake, maybe this will help you to recognize it so that you can get back onto the path of self-acceptance and self-love that I am starting on).

No matter how much time, effort, energy or money, you put into love, and no matter how many sacrifices and changes you make for someone, it will never be good enough so long as you don't KNOW you're good enough.

I know this because even if there was a time in my relationship that this man thought I was good enough, I refused to believe it. In fact, I was incapable of believing it.

Your worth doe not hinge on anyone but yourself. You should be able to exist without ever hearing someone say "You're amazing!", and still believe those words in your own head. You have to believe it! But as long as you don't, there will be a void in your life that no relationship (no matter how amazing) can fill. Until you can fill that void on your own (and with God's help of course), it will slowly taint every relationship you possess.

I'm not claiming that this was the sole explanation for my recent breakup, because there was a lot more going on than that, but I do know it played a role. Had I loved myself before seeking love from him, would things have worked out? I couldn't say. Probably not. However, I do believe that it would have left me in a much better spot when the relationship came to an end. Not that getting dumped should be a tea party, but I just think that some of the worthlessness and hopelessness that I let myself feel was unnecessary. I mean yeah, It's painful to get your heart broken, and yeah, you're probably going to cry...a lot (especially if you're anything like me). But as soon as you know, without a doubt, deep within yourself, that you're worth an awful lot, you will find that you have every reason to be happy and to carry on even in the entanglement of a breakup.

So....how exactly do we go about this whole realizing you're worth thing? haha..um..that, I do not know. But as soon as I figure it out, you can bet that I'll blog about it :)


Love,


Tay

 

I'm a hater.

I'm gonna rant.

So I guess the Victoria Secret Fashion Show is tonight?

that's cool..

From what I hear, people are pretty pumped about it. Many have been waiting all year, and I'm pretty sure a few of my friends even had countdown chains. Having observed all the excitement, I realize this post is going to volunteer me as the official "Party Pooper" of the VS fashion show, but I'll take that title with a smile on my face because I honestly can't think of a better party to poop on (too far??).

In a perfect world, I would be able to convince every one of you to watch anything besides the VS fashion show tonight. ANYTHING. Seriously. Even a show I despise like "Duck Dynasty" or "Finding Bigfoot" (incredibly stupid shows, but incredibly noteworthy when compared to nearly-naked girls pacing back and forth on a stage). But since this world is not perfect, I would never achieve such a goal. So instead, I just want to serve as buffer for some of the poison that's going to be put in your minds if you chose to watch those lovely Angels tonight.

I think its important to look at the motive of the show and our motive as viewers. Victoria Secret says the show is just a way for them to promote their holiday sales.

Really?... Well I've never seen even a quarter of the stuff your models are wearing in your actual stores.

Oh, you're selling the black undies that shes wearing under her elaborate costume. Got it. Okay cool. I didn't even see those but I might need to go buy myself a pair of them now.

So....then what is the motive?? I really wish I had an answer for you.

Okay so what about us? Why do we watch it? I'm not aiming this question at men because A) I'm thinking and hoping you don't watch it and B) if you do, we already know exactly why and frankly, its sad to me. But women, why do you want to watch it? I know it's not because you're looking to buy any of that stuff for your mom, or your friend, or even yourself. So why? I really don't get it. It would make sense if you got some meaningful message from it. Or if it was semi hilarious. Or even just good entertainment! But as much as you try and convince yourself that that's what it is, it's not.

Did you know that around 70% of women experience depression just minutes after looking through a fashion magazine. Not clinical depression or anything, but a majority of women have reported that they experience shame, self-loathing, bad body image and feelings of sadness just minutes after looking through a magazine and all the airbrushed "perfect" women that are inside. Guess what? That same exact outcome follows the airing of the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, so I don't get why anyone would support it.

I've heard a lot of women say that watching it gives them inspiration to get fit and healthy, but I have to laugh at that. Watching it does not inspire you to get healthy. It simply shames you into a few weeks or maybe a month of desperate dieting measures just to try and look like the women you're seeing on the runway. Do you know what those models go through just to get ready for the show? It's nothing healthy and it's nothing you can maintain long term. Adriana Lima (one of the more well-known VS angels), recently opened up about what she does months before the show just to prepare. Starting in August, she begins to work out twice a day everyday, while also being on a very restrictive diet. Then about two weeks before the show she gets put on a liquid diet, no solids. And then about 1 day before the show she consumes absolutely nothing. Not even water, because dehydration--though deadly--allows the models to look even thinner.

I'm not trying to pass judgment on the models, or diagnose them with eating disorders because that's not the purpose of this message. All I'm trying to do is remind the women who may watch tonight, that you aren't supposed to look like the women you are seeing on your screens! They don't even look like that after the show because they were using unrealistic means to get there in the first place. And actually, I'm going to go ahead and extend this message to every woman out there because I know that the media is bombarding us daily with unrealistic expectations of what we should look like. So women, when the body shame thoughts or the obsessive diet thoughts start to creep in (and they will), Please do not submit! Wanting to be healthy is great. In fact, I promote it. But models do not exist to promote healthy, they exist to promote skinny (emaciation even), which is not the same thing. So please separate the two.

The last message I have is for the guys.
I don't know if any of you are as into the show as girls are, so this message might be completely irrelevant to most of you. But if you do like to watch it (or if you are obsessed with models), I just want to urge you, just as I did the women, to remember that you're looking at unrealistic and overly sexualized women. Maybe you just enjoy it, but don't look at these woman and set that same standard for your future or current wife. And whatever you do, don't compare them to other women. It can be so dangerous. If your not careful, it will negatively affect how you see the women in your life, and eventually those women you care about will suffer the affects of it. Maybe just stop looking...

Okay. My rant is over. I obviously hate the VS fashion show (or the whole modeling industry for that matter). I hope I wasn't too harsh. I just care about all of you.

But enjoy the show :)