Keeping My Head Above Water

The past few months, it has been a daily struggle to keep my head above the water. It has taken everything to keep fighting, to keep pushing through. Honestly, I don't know how I've managed to make it this far. I've been fighting a silent battle within my heart and my mind. I might be vocal over social media about some things, but that is just the tip of the iceberg.

Throughout the course of my life, it was always to make my dad proud, to admire the strength that I got from him, and to grow up to be the woman he wanted me to be. Everything I did was to prove to him that he raised a strong woman who could fend for herself. Which, in my opinion, he did a pretty damn good job. That's not to say that my mom didn't help in that, because she did of course. For some reason, I've always been a daddy's girl and his opinion of me mattered so much more than anyone else, including my mom.

I remember the last thing I said to my dad, I said, "Okay dad, I'm leaving to go back to mom's house, I will be back in the morning. Call me if you need anything. I love you so much." I remember he looked at me with sleepy eyes and a grumble, my heart broke watching him so weak in that hospital bed not being able to do anything but lay there and endure the pain. My dad was the strongest person I've ever known. Never once in his 8 years of the cancer battle did I hear him complain. Not a "why is this happening to me?" or "I can't believe this is happening to me." Which speaks volumes for the kind of man he was, which is maybe why his approval was so important to me.

Even though he is no longer here, his approval is still very important to me. Whenever I'm making an important decision, I think to myself, "what would dad say about this?" Most of the time, I end up making a decision based on what I think he'd want me to do. Then, other times, I do something regardless of how I think he'd feel, because it's no secret that we didn't always agree on things. Which is okay, nobody agrees on everything all the time.

I think about my dad everyday, and everyday I struggle to get out of bed. I struggle to get ready, make it through the day, and just keep going.

When I was little, my brother and I would switch weekends between my mom's house and my dad's house. On weekends that we were at dad's house, it was always a rule that no matter what you ALWAYS make your bed before you leave your room. If you didn't then you'd get an ear full about it. As a kid, I always seemed to come up with a good excuse, and every time he marched me back into my room and explained the value of making the bed before you left the room. Eventually I caught on that it would be much easier to just make the bed before I left than it would be to try and get away with not making it. Now, when I was at mom's that didn't ever happen. My bed was always in shambles, and my room was always a wreck.

Looking back, dad instilled so many valuable life lessons. Since I moved out, every single day I have made my bed before I have left my room, and every single day I think, dad would be proud. I have to give myself credit for the little things, or I wouldn't make it out of bed in the first place. Grieving looks different on everyone, and I've always struggled with anxiety and depression, so losing him was like an anchor got tied to my ankle and I got shoved overboard.

I remember the morning he passed. I was in a deep sleep, and all of a sudden sat straight up in my bed, wide awake, looking at the clock. It was 5:09am. In my mind, I knew I didn't have to be at Tracy's until 8am, so I knew I wasn't late. There was this gut feeling as I laid back down, and my gut told me, "TAYLOR, GET UP RIGHT NOW, DO NOT GO BACK TO SLEEP." So I listened, I got up and started getting ready. My Fitbit was in the bathroom charging, and my phone was in my room. I was starting to put my makeup on when I picked up my Fitbit. As soon as I picked it up, it started vibrating, meaning I was getting a phone call. I looked at it, "Rhonda is calling.." Immediately I ran into my room and answered the phone. It was never a good sign that Rhonda was up before 6am on a Saturday. My voice shallow, "..hello.." then Rhonda said, "can you come over?" I said, "I'm on my way."

I scrambled to get dressed, throwing whatever I could find on. Raced down the stairs, grabbed my keys and my phone, took off out the door. I'm honestly shocked I even remembered to lock the door behind me. My gut told me he was gone, my heart didn't want to believe it. I probably went way too fast the whole way over there. My only goal at that moment was to get there as fast as I could. I slammed my car into park, grabbed my purse, ran into the house, dropped everything, and ran into the front living room. My heart is racing, and adrenaline has kicked in. I look at my aunts, tears fill my eyes, they look at me with tears in theirs and shake their heads. If Rhonda wasn't there to catch me I would have fell to the ground. My knees went weak, everything was numb, I yelled out, "NO!!!"

The tears kept coming, they seemed to go on for hours. As I looked at my dad laying in that bed, no longer alive, my heart felt so broken and so lost. The hospice nurse told me I could sit with him and talk to him if I wanted to. I talked to him for hours, laid with him and cried into his lifeless arm. I couldn't believe my daddy was gone, it couldn't be possible. The strongest man I've ever known is gone. He's right in front of me, but he's gone. Every time I thought that I had composed myself enough to get up and talk to my aunt, I started crying.

We waited awhile to call the funeral home in case my uncle or grandparents wanted to say their final goodbyes. Well, I was laying with him that entire time. My aunt's practically had to pull me away from his bedside. I didn't want to go, I didn't want him to go. I wanted him to come back, and be here with us. I had to keep telling myself that he was no longer in any pain, and that he didn't want to be in pain anymore.

When my dad was first diagnosed with cancer, it was 2010 and I was a Sophomore in high school. He told my brother and I on Christmas, which was a very difficult thing to hear. He didn't tell us to hurt us, it was just a moment when all three of us were together. He told us he was going to fight it, and his doctors saw a good outcome. Months of Chemo and Radiation treatments later, and he was in remission. A few years went by, and it had come back. Surgery to take it out, more chemo, more radiation. Again, in remission. Fast forward a few years from that, and this time it's not as promising. Engulfing his rib, they decided to take it out, and put mesh where his rib would be. When they went in to do the surgery, they noticed it had spread to his diaphragm, which at that point there's nothing they could do in terms of removal. To say I was livid is an understatement. Dad just said, "okay, what do we do now?"

So I knew for 8 years there was a chance of him not winning this battle, but we were all so headstrong and determined to help him beat this. And for 7 years, it worked. The final year was probably the hardest year. Dad was losing his strength, trying different chemo, since he'd reached his lifetime limit of the other one on the first rodeo. Oncology appointments constantly, lots of experimenting. They offered an immunotherapy trail, and dad jumped at the opportunity. So he did that for awhile, until the pain became so bad that he lost feeling in his legs. After an ER visit, and countless hours of him sitting in the same wheelchair he was admitted in, they discovered that the steroids they used at the hospital helped with the inflammation, and it was like nothing ever happened.

This was great news, because dad wasn't in as much pain anymore, and that's all he ever wanted. Pain management. Every year we go on our annual camping/fishing trip to Wickiup Reservoir over Memorial Day weekend. This year, we feared he wouldn't be able to go, but he was determined. Wilson came up from Alabama to go with us, and our family friends (the Douglas's) were on board as well. Game on!

This trip took everything dad had, and everyone at camp was helping him. Medication management, getting into the boat, getting him safely to the tent, and his chair. Getting him food, and drinks, and anything he needed. Now, he was still capable of doing this himself with a little bit of a struggle, but we could all see how much pain he was in, and didn't want to add to that pain. I remember the last morning we were there, we packed up camp per usual, and dad sat in the truck since we had packed away his chair. I ran to the Douglas's camp site and asked if one of them could come take a picture of the three of us by the boat. Dad recently got his boat wrapped, which he'd been talking about for years, and I wanted all of us to have a picture together next to it. I remember Wilson getting upset with me for wanting to make dad get out of the truck when he was in so much pain for one stupid picture.

That one "stupid" picture is the last picture that we have with all three of us. Even though dad was in some pain, I'm so happy that I didn't listen to Wilson, and asked dad anyways. Of course, daddy's girl always gets her way 😏.

I will end with this, everyone fights their own silent battles. What they share with you is most likely just the tip of the iceberg. Take care when someone opens up to you about their struggles. Everyone is dealing with the same hell, just different devils. I love my daddy to the moon and back a million times, and I miss him every single day. I cry in the store, in my car, in the shower, when I'm doing mundane things, I cry ALL THE TIME. That's okay, everyone heals differently. It will never stop hurting, I know that for a fact. I will miss him at my wedding, I will miss him when I have children, and I will miss him every single day before and after that. Knowing that he won't be here to watch me grow up more, and to watch my kids grow up hurts the most.

I'm determined to make him proud, in everything I do.

Forever and Always,
Daddy's Little Girl 💜

My New Love

This is something that needs to be said, and I want everyone to hear it. Yes, it was kinda a sudden thing, and yes, it was completely out of left field for me. However, why does it matter? If I love someone, I am going to love them regardless of their gender.

There is really no difference, actually my relationship with her has been the best one I've ever had. We respect each other, we understand each other, and we love each other. My past relationships have been abusive, they have been full of lies, and they have been a nightmare.

No, I didn't ever think I would be with a woman. My parents and I always joked about it after I guy I was interested didn't work out, but I feel as though it was an empty joke with no real intentions of that happening. But it did, and I am the happiest I've ever been.

Sure, it's not conventional. We will run into problems later on down the road when we decide we want to build a life and start having kids. However, these are only deemed PROBLEMS to some, to us it's just how it is, it's something different and it will all work out. Her and I will build a life together, we will be happy, we will be the best versions of ourselves.

Yeah, I always dreamed of the fairytale wedding and the suit and tie to come home to, but that's what she is to me. She is my suit and tie, my fairytale, my forever. Nothing else matters when I am with her, and all my problems are muted in the background almost like they aren't there anymore.

Some of you may or may not agree with my sudden decision to rush into a relationship with a woman, but let me tell you this: I have been single for almost 2 years now, and I have had multiple people I have been interested in. When I met her, she made me feel like I was worth more than all of these guys had ever made me feel over the course of months. For those of you who really know me, it's hard for me to believe that I am worth a lot. It's hard for me to know what I deserve, and how I deserve to be treated. Leanna treats me like I am a princess, when she looks at me I can see it. I know she loves me and would never hurt me intentionally, and that's something that is big with me.

I've learned to love my body and love myself in the past month and a half than I have in many years. Yes, you have to love yourself before someone else can love you. Quite honestly I think that's bullshit. She makes me love myself, she shows me that it's okay to look the way I do, and she makes me feel beautiful. I can now look at myself in the mirror and tell myself that I look Beautiful. She makes me feel invincible, and I know that no matter what anyone else thinks of me, she loves me, and I love me. For the first time I can say that I LOVE ME. I LOVE MYSELF. This is a huge.

So I have a new love, and her name is Leanna. She is everything to me, she is my forever.

Long Overdue

Alright so I know I've been saying that I am going to work on a new post, but haven't gotten around to it. Well today, I am getting around to it. Previously it was taking a long time because I didn't know what I wanted to talk about. I don't just like to type something for the hell of you guys having something to read. This blog is supposed to be meaningful, something to make you think.

With that said, I've decided what I think I'd like to talk to you about. I know that it is now the end of March, and a distance away from New Year's, but I would still kinda make this a New Year's post nonetheless.

The recap of my 2015 year goes like this, I got accepted into George Fox University for Psychology, and attended Spring Semester. Had to drop out of my psychology class because of a family emergency in January. After spring term ended, I then tried to work for a little bit and get my life a little more pieced together. In May I decided it was time to actually buckle down and go to school for something, cosmetology school was what I decided on, and started in June. I completed cosmetology school in January of this year, so about 7 months. For the hair design part that's a pretty great accomplishment. The best part was, I FINALLY GRADUATED FROM A COLLEGE. Granted it was a trade school, but still that's such a huge milestone for me.

Now, as for this year, it's already been a huge year. It's only the end of the third month of 2016 and it's already been such a roller coaster. So much for it being MY YEAR..haha. Although I'm determined to make this my year regardless of what stands in my way. Like I said, I graduated school, then got my license in February, then my dad went in for surgery to remove the cancer on his rib the middle of February. During the surgery they deemed it inoperable because it had spread to rapidly to his diaphragm. So imagine my brother and I's face when he is out of surgery 2 hours early, and the doctor tells us there's nothing they can do.

After talking with the doctor, the next step was Radiation Therapy, and then Chemotherapy to help reduce his pain. Which is now in the process of being done. I can tell you that my dad is one hell of a fighter. His strength and determination is something that I highly admire.

I've been put through up's and down's with trying to find a Salon to call home. At this point, I'm not even looking in my licensed field because that's how much I just need a job. It's funny when people talk to me about jobs because they don't understand my mindset. Three years ago now I made a promise to myself and I keep all my promises. This promise is to not do something that doesn't make my soul happy.

Now I get that I'm only 20 years old, and that's not how is was when you were a child, but this is how I am choosing to live my life. After everything I've been through, I think that life is too short to be unhappy. I didn't pay thousands of dollars to wake up and not want to go to work. That's not how I want to live, and it's okay if you don't agree with me, but don't try to lecture me about it.

I've found new friends, and I've lost old ones. What I've learned though is that in the end it's only you. Your best friend is yourself in the end. People promise to always be there, but almost always those promises fall through. You can't rely on anyone for anything.

BE BRAVE. BE YOURSELF. BE CONFIDENT.

Confession

Over the course of the last week I have been indulging myself into a show on Netflix that I had no idea was based in Portland until I watched it. Called, 'Life Unexpected' this show has shed light on so many things in my life that I never thought anyone or anything could ever shine light on.

It's recently come to my attention that I am incapable of having friends, and more than one person close to me at a time. As much as I try to have multiple friendships, or just relationships in general it never works. EVER. Trust me, I've literally denied this my whole life insisting that I was able to have multiple friends. In the end I always end up with just one, sometimes none at all.

As for the reason I am this way, I have no idea. It's like I have ADHD when it comes to my friend circles. My mind becomes a vortex of chaos and it spirals out of control before I have time to figure out what is happening.

By the time my life is spinning out of control, once again I hit rock bottom. I should almost just build real estate down there because it seems to always be my place of existence. When everything and anything can and will go wrong, it does. Life always has a way of kicking me when I'm down.

Throughout my life of 20 and a half years, I've been through a lot. Yes, people my age have been through a lot more, or a lot less. Same hell, different devils. I've had people leave me, hurt me, lie to me, abuse me, wreck me, tear me apart limb by limb. Therefore I am a very guarded person. I don't talk to the people who love me, because how can I trust them when so many people have stabbed me in the back with a double edged sword?

Now some will say that you can't put your past on others, because not everyone is the same. That I can understand, but at the same time I have such a hard time opening up to people because once I do they leave. People see me as the class clown, I will always try to make your day better, I'm always looking for a joke or a way to make someone laugh. I will ask you a million times a day if you're okay because maybe to me, you seem a little off. Not your normal self.

People ask me if I'm okay, I always say I'm alright. That is my go to response, a conditioned response to everyone. One of my previous supervisor's took that as a negative thing, and complained about it on my yearly review. It's not a negative thing. I'm alright means that I'm not the best I could be but I'm not the worst I've been, I'm just ALRIGHT.

Sometimes I try to justify people hurting me, because I don't want to believe they did it on purpose. I don't want to believe that after everything they could just throw me down and kick me after everything we'd been through. After awhile you get used to making excuses for people and getting hurt is an everyday thing, and you don't know nice if it was sitting next to you. You think abuse is normal. Mental, physical, emotional; you start to think they are all normal because you don't know any better.

I used to blame my parents for making me so screwed up, mainly my dad. But it wasn't just him. Part of it probably because I put so much of my time and effort into pleasing him and all I would get is criticism, and things I should have done rather than a good job or way to go from what I did do. Nowadays I no longer strive to make him proud, or anyone really because I will never be good enough for them. I will never be who they want me to be.

Honestly, I cried at my High School graduation because I never thought I would make it to see that day. I cried when I got accepted into Southern Oregon University, and George Fox a year and a half later. Those were big accomplishments for me because I never thought I could. I'm not the girl that gets things like that.

Some things in life really just flood my mind and make it hurt so much it's almost unbearable. One day I was handed a handwritten letter. Much to my surprise it wasn't much of a letter, but a list. Front and back about 3 pages (college ruled). This was a compiled list from my (ex)boyfriend's best friend. About everything he had said he didn't like about me to her and then an explanation as to why in her own words.

This was by far the worst thing someone could have done to me emotionally. I took this letter, and he told me not to read it, but I did anyways. Would you? I wanted to know what someone I thought was my friend had to say about MY relationship. An outsider, who had only a sliver of what was really going on. And he might see this, he might not. I don't know who all reads this blog and who doesn't.

I didn't understand then, and I don't now. How someone could intentionally drown someone in their own personality and make them feel like shit about who they are. How she could sit there with a smile on her face knowing that this letter was going to tear me apart, and put cracks in my relationship. That messed me up as a person.

I'm so broken on the inside, and nobody knows that. Nobody knows that I am such a messed up person and nobody can understand me because half the time I can't even understand myself. Half the time I can't even explain to you how I feel what I feel, or why, or what caused it. I can be happy one minute, and completely depressed the next and have no idea why.

I'm not perfect, I'm hard to love, and I sure as hell don't make it easy; I also don't try to make it hard either. So I confess, I'm broken and emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted from the abuse of my life.

Belated Halloween Thoughts

Here I was, scrolling through Facebook counting down to Halloween. What I saw was no less than ordinary, but it got me thinking. Every Halloween without fail, someone posts or shares a photo that has to do with not dressing up as a specific thing because it is hurtful so their culture or a culture they have grown encompassed to. Now, I'm not saying this is right or wrong.

However, has it ever occurred to anyone, that no matter what costume you want to wear it's almost always going to involve someone's life. That it might be hurtful? For example: dressing as a construction worker. Cute right? Yes. Not recognizing the fact that this is someones life, their career. So why is it that dressing as an Indian is recognized as shameful but nothing else really is? Inanimate objects, not so much of a concern (Soap and Loofah, Ketchup and Mustard, Netflix and Chill, etc.).

Seriously think about this. If we are not recognizing that everyone is human, this world is going to fall apart. Hell, it already is. This is my point, dressing up has been an age-old tradition that has been carried through the years. Although the things people may say about a certain costume can be hurtful, we are all human. We should be able to dress as whatever we want. An Indian, Bohemian dancer, construction worker, policeman/policewoman, fireman, etc.

No judgement should be placed on anyone for being who they want to be on the one night they can choose to be anything they can imagine.

Here's to the free spirits, and the ones who still respect what they may be representing on Halloween night with whatever costume they are wearing.

A letter to my best friend

Thank you.

Thank you for being you, for loving me the way I am, for everything you do for me. In my obsessively crazy world, I know you'll always be there. We've gone through some rocky points in our lives without each other, and it seems to go a little smoother when I know you're there to catch me.

For staying up at night to talk to me, even though you're exhausted from your long day. For being the shoulder I can cry on, and you'll hold me so I feel safe again. Thank you for letting me be a part of your life, and a part of your family. I know how much family means to you, and I am so grateful that I can be a part of that.

Thank you for being a part of my family, for coming to me when you need someone there for you, even at 3am, because you know I will always be there for you. Thank you for encouraging me and helping me to keep on the right track. Thank you for being my common sense when it seems all of mine is on a runaway train.

I love you so much. I honestly don't know how I would have survived some of the things I have if I didn't have you there beside me. Even though we don't see each other as much as we did, I still value every minute I get with you. I love the endless laughs, texts, Snapchats, Instagram posts, Facebook posts, baking moments, movie marathons, cuddle sessions, photo ops, endless drives, endless love. Unconditional love.

You are my soulmate. You are the one person I know will always be there through the dark times and the amazing moments I have, as well as I will be there for you.

As your best friend I vow to:
-Love you always and unconditionally
-Be there for you whenever, wherever, always
-Always communicate with you
-Talk common sense into you when you need it; tough love but still unconditional
-Bake with you at any moment you decide necessary
-Watch movies as many times as you deem necessary
-Mutually agree on household items and where we will live in two years
-Be the shoulder you can cry on
-Be the punching bag
-Tell you the truth about everything (except surprises, but you always figure those out anyways!!)
-Be your lesbian lover at any sign of distress
-Be the best cuddle buddy you'll ever have
-Love your cat
-Appreciate your love for Owl's
-Always be there

These are just the things off the top of my head, I'm sure I could go on and on and on but you get the point. I promise to not walk out of your life. I will not walk out, I will let you drag me through hell with you as long as you hold my hand.

Forever and with all of my heart, I love you.

XOXO,
  Your Best Friend

You.

You. You're not who I thought you were. You've changed so much since I've known you. It makes me wonder if I ever really knew you at all. Was the whole thing a lie? Were you waiting for me to get fed up and leave?

It doesn't even hurt anymore like it did a year or two ago. Honestly, now I am just numb to everything and everyone. It's like you posting things about your new person doesn't even phase me or come as a shock anymore.

You knew me so well, you knew my deepest secrets, my deepest loves. You saw me raw, almost naked in a metaphorical sense. That's something most people never have the chance to do. I was by your side and you were by mine, through thick and thin.

Through heartbreak, new loves, accomplishments, everything. You. It was you who was there, nobody else. You were there when I needed someone the most. In those moments that I was most vulnerable. Yet you look at me now like that was nothing.

Now. Now you sit there and act like I don't exist anymore, that nothing ever happened. He changed you, in the worst way. Only some good things came out of that, and losing you was not one of them. But I wasn't going to sit there and give 100% of my effort with nothing in return.

It was a two way street with us, but you repaved the street, and had a traffic control change. You smoothed over the memories we had, everything we shared together, gone. As if it never happened in the first place. Nothing to show for the 6 years of memories.

I knew I would lose you that March, I had a gut feeling. Even though you told me you wouldn't leave, you did. Not right away, but no doubt you did. It was never the same after that, we tried to pretend it was but we both knew it wasn't.

That's what breaks my heart the most. Knowing you don't care, knowing that you threw me out like yesterdays trash.

"That don't sound like you." -Lee Brice