My Life In A Not-So-Nutshell

Have you ever loathed someone? I have. What if that person you loathed was yourself? And I mean, really loathed. Like, wallow-in-self-pity-for-weeks-type-of-loathing. I’m talking wine coma every night for weeks, even months, skipping obligations, skipping the gym, skipping basic life functions. Skipping everything.  I have done all of these things. I have really, really loathed myself. I forgive myself for it, though. Or at least, I’m trying to. I’ve learned something recently: Without forgiveness, we can’t receive love. This realization made me understand that there was a reason I was increasingly harder to love as the weeks and months went on. Now, don’t get me wrong, I understand that love — real love — is unconditional. But when you haven’t forgiven yourself completely, it’s hard to give or receive any kind of love, including the love that matters most... the kind from yourself. You’re too wrapped up in the loneliness of unforgiving self-loathing. I kno

I have not been able to articulate the pain I’ve been in. But today, I’m going to try. Someone asked me last week how I was feeling... if I felt like I was “getting better.” To clarify, I don’t know what the hell “getting better” is supposed to mean, but I felt like I could be honest with this person. “I’m surviving,” I said. My heart is broken, my brain is in 87 different places all the time, and I have no idea what I need. How do you articulate that to people when they ask what’s wrong? Can you? Today, I decided I wanted to try and articulate pain. Or at least my pain. So, to start, pain is retelling the story of your rape over and over again in the hopes that people will understand how we cannot nominate a sexual predator to the highest court in the country. Pain is watching that man be appointed to the Supreme Court anyway. Pain is not knowing the status of your relationship with your partner. Pain is missing someone so badly that there is a persistent knot in your

"If the train doesn't stop at your station, then it's not your train." -Marianne Williamson Heartbreak. It usually happens when we lose a loved one, experience a breakup, or lose a job. And, as I've learned over the last few weeks, it also happens when you lose a dream. When you come close to accomplishing a lifelong goal of yours, only to find out that the timing wasn't right, or maybe that the dream wasn't even for you altogether, it's a pain I can't describe. It hurts. Bottom line. And this is how I felt on June 16 and the immediate days following. Before I dive in, I want to say quickly that it's taken me a bit to realize it's okay that I'm not over this by now. I will be when I'm ready. I've often said that being 1st Runner Up to a state title (or to any title, really) is without-a-doubt the hardest job in the entire room at that given point in time. Winning is easy. Losing is when your character means everything. A

How much is enough, really? Did you go to the gym today? Plan your meals? Oh, don't forget to meditate. Read for 15 minutes. Car payment is due in four days. That event is coming up, what are you going to wear? I think every human being at some point or another has questioned whether they were doing enough. Giving enough. Being enough. Maybe you questioned it five minutes ago. Maybe you questioned it five years ago. At the end of the day, not a single person's life has been left unmarked by internal judgment. And that's what I'm here to talk about today. In the aftermath of trauma, especially sexual trauma, survivors typically experience shame and guilt for what has happened to them. Neurologically, we're beginning to understand how trauma triggers these emotions. But how do you cope? There's enough stressors in everyday life of trying to feel like you're enough, let alone after someone has taken advantage of you, and broken into the home that is your

I was listening to a podcast today on burnout. When I was in high school, I used to think being overly busy & having a grossly packed schedule was the "cool" thing to do. I was involved in literally  everything. In fact, I don't recall a time from when I was 7 or 8 up to present day where I wasn't running from point A to point B and then some every. single. day.   My poor parents - child number 5, their last, and by far the craziest. I owe them my entire life and a pony. I'm an online health coach to over ten clients, who I speak with on a scheduled hourly basis every week, with daily text conversations. I started a small business shortly after graduating last May because... that's just what you do... when you... graduate college. I have a part time job at Orangetheory. I volunteer for various organizations and am in the developmental stages for the formation of my own nonprofit. I operate two Instagram accounts, and yes, since my business is in the on

CW: sexual violence. The topics I avoid the longest are the topics that desperately need to be written. It's usually just a matter of time before I get to that point of physically putting my thoughts into a cohesive piece, which, is always hardest on these particular subjects. Today's topic is forgiveness. I grew up Catholic, so I think I've always grown up with the concept in my head that forgiveness is, ya know, important. The only problem is, I never knew how to forgive exactly. It's probably why for a large portion of my life up until the last year or so, I had suffered from crippling anxiety and panic disorder, but that's probably another topic for another day. So... forgiveness. How do you forgive? Is it always needed? Is it always possible? These are questions that I could've never told you the answer to six months ago. These are questions I am still learning the answers to, but the point of this post is to share what I have learned thus far in my

I got a tattoo on the day I turned 18. I'm 22 now, so I figure the real test of maturity is deciding whether or not you need to find someone to cover up/remove said-18-year-old-Maggie tattoo. A little backstory here: my mother's favorite movie is "The Shawshank Redemption." I had seen this movie dozens of times throughout my adolescent years and into young adulthood. It's not exactly the jolliest movie to date, but the underlying theme of 'hope' was something I really appreciated and was captivated by. I decided that, after serious deliberation between a Mumford & Son's song lyric & a quote from the film (I know, I know...), that my first tattoo would be a quote from my mom and I's favorite movie. I love my sweet mom, so it just seemed fitting. And the quote talked about hope, so I digress. The tattoo reads: "There's something inside, that they can't get to, that they can't touch. That's yours." "Wh