Being at the beach always makes me want to fall in love. It’s been that way since I was eleven years old when I would sneak out onto the condo balcony late at night and write love songs to a guy that I’d never met. There I would look up at the stars and pray that I would meet my summer romance, and that this year would be the year. The closest I ever came was when I was about fourteen, and I met a boy on the beach one afternoon. We walked and he made fun of his younger brothe
There’s a topic that KEEPS coming up in my life recently, and it makes me sort of resentful and angry- which is really ironic once I let you know what it is- and makes me think that maybe there’s a reason God keeps putting it in front of me. I don’t know if that’s ever happened to you, but I’ve found that when I’m walking with my Higher Power, He leads and guides my sometimes painful growing process. Sometimes, I wish He would just give me a step by step guide, or just POOF!
I have a confession. I have no idea what I’m doing. That’s right! I am not an expert at being an adult. I can’t even say I’m an expert in recovery. I make mistakes, am not “strategic” in my career moves, and don’t have my life planned out with incredibly specific goals for the next 5 years like some of the self-help books suggest I do. I have dreams and desires for sure- like living a happy life with my husband (who I’ve yet to meet) and the 8 kids we’ll adopt. I ask people f
I am not an authority on self-care. How do I know this? Well, for one, for a long time my definition of “self-care” was probably the buzzword definition you’re familiar with. It used to be my excuse to lock myself inside my room for daysto watch obscene amounts of anime and episodes of Ghost Adventures. It’s been my ticket to skip work for the 3rdtime in a month because I was “sick...” again. It’s the little voice in my head that tells me to buy that bag of face-masks at Targ
There was a time in my life that I lived in a closet. And no, not the closet that’s being talked about during Pride month. I mean a literal closet. I wish I had a good excuse like I was trapped in there or that I’m actually a wizard whose aunt and uncle are jerks- but I don’t. The truth is that I was fifteen years old, incredibly depressed, being bullied at school (which I inevitably stopped going to), and found it easier to isolate myself, binge-eating and playing Pokémon pl
I want to tell you a love story. A real love story. Right now I should be inside finishing my statistics homework, but after one of the craziest weeks of my life- 2 cancer diagnoses in my family, one of whom was my 7 month old cousin, starting a podcast, sitting in a classroom for the first time in 4 years, inner turmoil regarding my future career, sitting with my Nana talking about Alzheimer’s treatment for my aunt, working 2 part-time jobs, and trying to learn only semi-suc
I have this terrible thing that I do. I put people up on pedestals. I look at strong women in my life and believe they are the epitome of what I’d like to be. I believe that they can do no wrong, or that they have everything together. Sometimes I feel like there are these girls that have it all figured out and I have absolutely no idea how to adult. I am thirteen year old trapped in the world of confident twenty to thirty year olds. I ask myself, “How the heck did I get here?
This little (or as it turns out not so "little") project began with one simple phrase: "Why not?" Yeah! Why not?! Why not make a podcast? Why not raise up the voices of young women in recovery? Why not be loud, and vulnerable, and a little daring? Why not encourage authenticity and healing in a world that tells you that you need to be perfect? ...Well, turns out that when you ask yourself that question, your brain can come up with ten thousand reasons to NOT. Quite quickly in
As much as I wish recovery was all sunshine and rainbows and girls frolicking through fields to montages of happy pop music, somedays it’s not. Recovery is real, and if it’s real, it means it's real life. I think that I had this idea about getting sober, eating right, and not living in unhealthy relationships. It’s only uphill from here! Every day is a miracle compared to the hell I used to live in, but it doesn’t always look like a miracle. I certainly don’t hear cherubs sin
I have no problem admitting I might take great pictures (they did put my face on a billboard after all), but let me be clear- I am NO "Covergirl." And when I say "Covergirl" this is what I'm imagining: -She lives in a nice flat in New York City that's decorated simply and elegantly with stuff from Wayfair and Arhaus. -She's effortlessly stylish and knows how to contour. -She weighs just enough not to look too skinny, but still wears a size 000000. -She has boobs even though s
I feel the need to write something about failure right off the bat, because there's a chance that this podcast could be just that- a huge failure. Many of us, myself included, are no strangers to failure. When I was fifteen, my dream was to be the next Taylor Swift. I wanted to be on stage singing for a living and have the whole world listening to Tori Ray on their iPhones or in their cars. I even wrote a song about how one day I would be up on stage and on a billboard and li
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