All your troubles will be miles away..

Hello friends.

It’s been quite a while, I know.

Since my dad passed away in May of this year, I’ve been trying to navigate a loss, a place that is still very unfamiliar to me. I’ve never been here before. And I don’t like it at all. Re-learning to live in a what feels like an alternate universe is extremely weird & uncomfortable. And although he feels very far away today, he still feels close enough to be able to reach. Like he’s just on a very long vacation & he’ll be coming home soon. I know that’s not the reality of things, but it still feels that way.

I knew it was going to be difficult, losing a parent. Especially one that’s your best friend. It still is. And even though my family & I had time to say our goodbyes, I’m afraid it didn’t make it any easier. We got 9 months from the time of his diagnosis until his physical body gave out. I am grateful we had the time to express our feelings, thoughts, fear, love, etc. I am grateful I got to tell my dad how much I admired and loved him–even though this is something I consistently told him throughout the years. . The conversations we had were absolutely the most difficult, but necessary. I am grateful I was able to grasp at some kind of closure-even though my heart aches daily for him to be here Because even though you have that closure-you still live with every accomplishment, success, dream, or celebration without them.

Yes, it’s been nearly 8 months to the day my sweet dad left this Earth to go to his heavenly home- but I still live with that grief everyday. I am walking through the muck of trying to find peace. But life just feels weird now. And also strange that the world and everyone in it just expects you to be “fine” & “good” at a certain point. They stop asking how you’re doing, they stop caring. And life goes on. As if there is a timeline for this sort of thing. And all I have to say to that is, why don’t you come to me once you’ve lost a parent–and we’ll see how you feel about that statement then. It’s so incredibly different to see someone who is grieving and think you understand them… and then to be on the other side of that as the one who has a hole in your heart that leaves a deep unexplainable ache. It’s one of those things you can’t truly understand until you’re walking through it.

Anyway, I guess I came here just to let that out. Because I’m tired of people thinking they know better. I get they’re trying to help, but in that sense it becomes worse.

Also came to say,

If anyone is grieving, you’re allowed all the time in the world that you need.

That people grieve differently and at different paces.

That it’s okay if you’re not okay.

& if people don’t understand, so be it.

Spend moments throughout the day remembering your loved one.

Talk to them.

Write to them.

Cry to them.

They’re there.

& I truly believe they’re listening.

My pops told me before he left he’d come watch over me & make sure people were being good to his “Sweet Michelle”. & he has. He’s met me in my dreams dozens of times. Some make me sad with heartache, but others make me beam with joy in knowing he kept his promise.

Holding you closer than most,




I haven’t really felt like myself lately.

A huge part of that has to deal with the loss of my father this spring, I also think it may have something to do with me turning 30 a few short days ago.

Whenever I have a “big” and defining birthday, I always spend a couple of days in meditation & reflection. I go off the grid, really just turning off the notifications on my phone… I’ll journal & ask questions those big questions I’ll think about from time to time. You know the ones… like, “How come I’m not married with kids yet?” “Why haven’t I truly gone after my dream job yet? & if I do, what will it take of me?” Especially since the one I’m at doesn’t make me happy or gives me that feeling of purpose. “Why don’t I have more money put away in savings?” The list goes & on, but you get the picture.

I’ve also been more withdrawn & craving a lot of alone time. I find that it’s just more peaceful that way. Not necessarily what anyone would say is better–because you should get out of your comfort zone from time to time… but I get emotionally drained a lot easier than before. My love tanks will empty out & then I’ll need time to recharge. I don’t want to do meaningless thing likes sit around & have a few cocktails at a happy hour with friends. Or sit around watching TV with friends because their child is napping and they can ‘t leave the house. Can anyone else relate to that? I hope I’m not coming across as rude, I’m just trying to be honest.

But if you’ve ever felt resistance, and let’s be honest; we all have… you know what I’m talking about. You understand that something you liked at 17, you wont necessarily like at 30. & it has nothing to do with growing “old” or suddenly becoming a boring person–priorities shift, things change. And I’d much rather evolve as a human, into who I’m supposed to be, then sit in another situation or activity and want to rip my eyes out from feeling a disconnect. It’s just an odd thing, not feeling as connected to some people as I used to. And I’m trying to navigate this place, because I’ve never been here before. I know it’s mainly who I am. My thoughts. And I’m not trying to offend. I’m sitting in a lot of doubt about what is and what I need to do to be at who I’ve always dreamed of. I’m finding out that dreams are very demanding of us as people. And that means we need to take better care of ourselves; physically, emotionally, spiritually… etc. Boundaries are important, make them! And I’m certainly trying to understand this process of becoming the best version of myself. No matter how long it takes. And honestly, even if that means letting go of some people and stretching myself.

Am I making sense? Does anyone else feel this way? I know I’m meant to live differently than how I’ve been living. I know there is far more out there for me. & as the universe keeps nudging me to get moving instead of remaining stagnant, I’m both excited and terrified. Because I have no idea how to get started… but I know real change is coming soon.

Stay tuned,

Love, Meesh.




istock-499609170For the longest time I thought mediation & yoga were the worst.

Even when I knew nothing about the two.

I thought they were for the hippie, trendy, hipster type of person that only needed time to kill or wanted to look cool.

I thought, I sit in my thoughts all day with my anxieties– how could sitting in them while closing my eyes & breathing slowly, help?

I never really wanted to try either, because I didn’t think they would work, nor did I want to be classified in “that group” of people.

I thought it was all kind of “fluffy” & that it just wouldn’t be the kind of breakthrough I needed.

I was wrong. I was so so wrong.

I’m not sure what got me to that first yoga class a year ago, but I’m glad I got there.

It was a small class, in a yoga studio that didn’t have the wall mirrors–something I appreciated as I not only didn’t want to watch myself look ridiculous…  but I didn’t want to see the other women in the class slay.

I felt intimidated at first. My instructor was probably about 25 years old than me, I was 27 at the time. & she was stretching into positions I simply couldn’t mold my body into (yet).

I felt so incredibly out of shape–both mentally & physically.

I would push myself further than I imagined I could.

Even though my body was stiff & my mind unwilling–I kept going.

And as if the positions weren’t difficult enough for me, the instructor would come by & help guide my body into the right alignment… which would help me refocus while my burning muscles reminded me that there is purpose & fulfillment in pain. The kind that helps you grow.

By the end of that first session, I felt stretched in many ways. I felt energized. I felt like I not only needed to come back, I wanted to.

Fast forward 5 months down the road, I became a stronger person–physically, emotionally, & intellectually.

The yoga classes got a little easier, however I kept pushing for more advanced classes–so although I was stronger.. I kept getting my a*s kicked. Every single class.

Yoga just does something to you as a whole. I truly don’t know how to explain it.

It betters you as a person, it does. I can fully stand behind that statement.

Something inside you clicks and you realize you can’t control anything in your life but direct control of your own.

You dive into your consciousness. It’s a fulfilling thing. You begin remembering things that you have a fully working body … & all things as simple as that.

You find strength in your vulnerability.

You start taking better care of yourself throughout the week.

You start eating better, you work out more outside of yoga, you meditate more. You just sink into the things that bring you more joy. & you hold no excuses for the things that used to hold you back.

Yoga makes me want to dive deeper. It has woken something in me… & I have just scratched the surface of my soul. Every class I find myself evolving into a better version of myself.

It allows me to just lay everything on the mat & re-energizes me for whatever lies ahead of me in the following days.

Some sessions on my mat, I cried. Sometimes I fought my emotions. Sometimes I just wanted to fall onto my mat and just lay there. But no matter what, I didn’t give up.  I kept going.

And God, am I thankful I did.

Again I can’t fully put into words the gift it has given me, but if you’re contemplating it.. go. Not just to one session, but multiple. Because the breakthrough will come. I promise.

Displaced in an ever connected world..




That’s how many years anxiety and depression tried to steal my joy. My happiness. My life.

I remember I was nine years old when I felt the first wave of panic wash over me.

I wasn’t in any danger. There really was no reason for it.

I had no idea that one night while laying down trying to go to bed, would be the first of many….many sleepless nights to come.

Anxiety came crashing into my world & tried to cripple every bit of who I was.

To be clear, I come from an incredibly loving home. I grew up feeling very grateful & thankful for what we had & how hard my parents worked to give us a good life.

Many therapists & psychiatrists asked me if I had ever been sexually, physically, or emotionally abused and the answer was always a solid, “no.” That’s the absolute truth.

So when they tried to rule out all the reasons why I felt anxious, they had no answers for me. The only thing they were eventually able to tell me was my brain was chemically imbalanced. Like Lady Gaga likes to say, “I was born this way.”

I didn’t like hearing that from doctors. Not only did I have a daily battle of trying to feel normal, but now they were telling me If I didn’t take medication….I would never feel stabilized, normal, happy. Because it was a chemical in my brain, it wasn’t situational. And that was really weird to feel completely out of control & to trust a complete stranger to help me. When it came to doctors I felt grateful they had the knowledge to give me some form of relief, but I was also somewhat skeptical. My parents had to pay almost $200 for an hour long session & then who knows how much for my medication. & sometimes all I thought was does she really care? Or is she stuck in the motions of her career, and just pushing medication down my throat because it’s going to pay her bills? Is she really listening to my heartache, or is she thinking about at the end of her day she has a week long vacation she’s about to go on?

I know that might sound somewhat odd, but these are thoughts I would have. Sitting there as she is trying to help me find methods of coping with my anxiety in those moments. Telling me to close my eyes & think of a relaxing place– like a beach, or somewhere in the mountains and you can see for miles and miles. She wanted to take me to a place (mentally) where my mind would convince my body that it was okay, and I would relax. But during those sessions, where she would want me to listen to my breathing, & try to relax my muscles by clenching them together then letting go…. I felt helpless. It wasn’t working. That isn’t what I needed.

So as a young girl who knew nothing about this mental disease, I was in for one hell of a journey. I had no idea how awful anxiety was & how quickly it would consume me. It would keep me from wanting to go on vacations, or simple things like a night at the movies. It stole my sleep so much that I began to function normally off a few hours of sleep. It took me away from my studies so viciously that my mom ended up homeschooling me for a couple years. It kept me from going out with my best friends. It made me afraid of going out anywhere in fear that anxiety would overtake me and no one would know how to help me.

Anxiety quickly became something I would quite literally fight with absolutely everything I had. & in the depths of my dark days, the only energy I had was simply to lay in my bed and cry. I had moments where I lashed out at family, or friends… simply because I didn’t know how to handle my emotions. I would yell at God because if he heard my prayers, he wasn’t listening. I would blame him for my pain. I would hide in my room because somehow that was a safe place. If anxiety got me there, it was okay…. because I would walk through whatever was thrown at me & I would be the only one to see.

For a long time I felt shame in my pain. In the 90’s, it wasn’t really a topic of conversation. I didn’t know a single soul but myself who suffered. I googled relief. I would try to find forums or group chats of people who had the same “insane” thoughts I did. So that way, I would feel a little less crazy. And a little more understood. But to no avail, I still felt alone as I ever did. & it wouldn’t be until years later that I really got why I had to go through all of it alone, because I came out stronger & more brave than ever. But when it was happening, I would question my existence daily. I wouldn’t understand why this was my life. Why everyone around me had these different paths and journeys to walk, but mine would be full of pain and confusion.

It didn’t even make much sense to me, you see. Because I was so deep in my faith. I believed in God. I went to church every Sunday & youth group every Wednesday. My community of friends all did the same. I felt safe in their presence, in our friendships. They accepted me for who I was & vise versa. They saw a girl who was brave, courageous, & capable. Even when I saw one who was broken, weak, & fragile. They saw past my weaknesses. They saw my strengths. And that was enough for me to realize, enough for me to know that this evil disease or whatever you want to call it, had no control over my life. & in moments like this, I truly & fully believed in that. I was strong. I had faith. I knew my life was mean’t for so much more.

But then when I was alone, away from them…. my mind would try to get the best of me. Telling me I wasn’t any of those good things. & back into the depths of darkness I would fall again. I’m telling you it was a rough, ongoing thing for twelve years. In these moments, I knew I had to fight. I had to do anything I could to not let evil overtake me. & I did just that. I would read self-help books, you should see my collection. I would write. I would read any & all inspiring & motivating articles. I would google success stories. I tried to mediate. I would pray. I would pray, a lot. I would be around people who loved me. I would sing. Singing was one of my biggest saving graces. I’m not even sure why. But I’ve been singing since the 3rd grade, right around the time my journey with anxiety started.  & it was almost like anytime I would be singing in choir practice, or during a concert, at home, wherever- I would be taken to another place.

The music would consume me. The beautiful words. The notes. The melodies. The harmonies. The different languages. All of the stunning, intricate pieces that go into making a song what it is. Something about expressing who I was in song, healed me. Being in a group of humans that came together to want to make magic, that was a wonderful thing. It was incredibly healing. It was something that since my first tryout at the age of 9. I knew would be a huge part of who I am. And I was right. I remember walking around my home during childhood throughout high school & my parents would gauge my happiness/sadness around my signing. If I wasn’t signing, my mom would know something was wrong. & If I was happy- I wouldn’t stop singing. Half the time I never realized that. But one day she mentioned it to me & I thought about it. It made me laugh because I did it unknowingly. It just became a part of who I was.

It became a part of me, just as anxiety did. Although anxiety isn’t the part that wins these days. & it doesn’t need to win your days either. It is however the part that guides me. It is the reason I fight for hope everyday. It’s the reason I’m trying to build a community for sufferers. Not just online, but a physical one where people get together in a place of love to speak of their pain. It’s the reason I’m writing a book to hopefully help those going through the hell I did, who thinks no one understands them.

I do. I get you. I was there. I am here. & you, my friend… are not alone. Nor will you ever be.


Willingness to take risks.

I’m afraid. Fear on most days will try to consume me.

I never used to feel this way. Really. You may even want to call me a liar, but if you came to me even a year or so ago, you’d know I was telling you the truth. Anything I did, never came from being afraid. 

There was nothing that could get in my way. No obstacle, no human, no thought, not even myself. I was determined & genuinely felt boldness in my bones.

But more and more recently as I’ve felt myself leaning into my dreams, chasing them even…the fear has tried to consume me even more. It’s tried to wreck me. Question who I am & who I think I am trying to build a community to help those who suffer.. And if I’m being honest, some days I’ve let it win, my fear. My anxiety. It has called me names, laughed at me, said I was unqualified & had no knowledge on the matter. Part of that is true. 

But more of it is untrue. You see, I have struggled with anxiety since I can remember. From the tender age of 9 it began to seep it’s way into my daily routine. Trying to steal the only thing a young child has to hold onto, everlasting wonder & joy.

And since that young age I have wrestled with that demon. We have been in the ring fighting every day. Some days it throws a few jabs at me but I’ve been able to dodge them & others it will completely knock me out. Days where I have no desire to leave my home, let alone my bed. Days where I can go from my happy go lucky self to down and out about a lot. Days where I feel panic for no reason whatsoever.

I’m not looking for comfort. I’m not looking for advice on therapy or medication, I’m just wanting to put it out there that yeah, this life is hard…& sometimes, it’s going to make you question what were even doing here. What’s the point of all this. Am I loving my passions out? Am I going to let a little fear bully me our of my calling?

The answer, my dear is no.

You’re going to ache. It’s going to hurt. You may spend days crying. You may have no appetite. 

You may think not one soul understands what you’re going through. But you’re wrong. I do. As well as so many others. And okay, we may not actually know each other… But I’d like to!

I’d like you to be able to have a place you can come where there is no judgment. No expectations. No worries. No fear. But a place of Joy. Wonder. Acceptance. Love. Where others understand your deepest aches & your heart of hearts. And maybe we can figure this life out together.

So take a risk.

Drop me a line below or email me telling me if you suffer from anxiety & what you’re doing to get by, to heal. Don’t be ashamed of your mental illness. It may try to define you, but it doesn’t have to.

Let me know if you’d like a community like I described above. I know I would have during my darkest days… Instead of sitting in a therapists office feeling like my mind is being picked apart for $. I want to be there for you. & I want you to know you’re not alone..
Love you, sweet ones. 💛

Anxiety is easy.

​I’ve been hearing more people talk about mental illness & that makes me really happy. You see, so many people that don’t have it/have never experienced it, are incredibly misinformed. They think that simply because someone takes medicine or has to go to therapy, or lives their life a little differenty…it somehow makes them a “lesser” person. That they lack some of the things that a “normal’ person needs to thrive in life.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
& those who do suffer find they’re incredibly misunderstood (they are) & fear sharing their struggles because of the weird looks they’ll get (Oh, do they get them), or the friendships & relationships that may shift(I’ve lost a bunch back when it was the hardest). Or job opportunities lost, because no one wants a “weak” employee. & to be honest, no one deserves that. Comparably it’s what I would imagine a Cancer patient fearing once they fell someone they’re sick; that look. People do view you differently. They look at you like you’re a sick puppy. & feel bad for you, but stay at bay. When all we want is for someone to walk along side us & say, “I get you’re struggling & even if I don’t understand what you’re going through.. I’m here if you need me.”
Folks, that’s it.
I struggled with awful, paralyzing anxiety for nearly a decade of my life, if not more. & most people never knew. Because I got really good at hiding it & not allowing that burden to fall on anyone. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been an incredibly happy, grateful, thankful girl even though the pain… But there were some dark days as well. & although I fought through most of the pain alone (by choice) & am stronger than I ever imagined I could be on the other side of heartache… Some people aren’t so lucky.
Through countless days of uncertainty & crippling thoughts, I would always pray, “Why?” “Why me?” & I asked that hundreds of times a day…for what was years. I knew there had to be purpose in my pain. But all I heard was crickets. That even though I cried myself to sleep most nights, said no to events I’d normally rush to accept, missed out on football & baseball games, family affairs of climbing mountains, or only ate when my mom sat me down & watched to make sure I did. I still had hope in the purpose of my pain.
I see it now. I hear what I’m supposed to do. & I want to answer that call. But it’s still a little blurry. I truly want to be a voice for those who are broken, bruised, lost, & hopeless. For those who suffer & dont have anyone in their circle they think could ever understand. Girl, that’s me! Boy, I’m here! 
I’m not sure how I’m gonna do this, but its something I want to tread lightly in. If you have any suggestions, send them my way please.
& if you suffer from any of the awful mental illnesses out there, they aren’t your fault. And I’m here for you, boo. 
Thanks for listening sweet ones..  Love you the most..💛💛

High on loving you.

So I’ve been juggling with the fact of wanting to actually come back and write on my blog. It’s been a long time.

Writing makes me happy. I read & journal everyday.

It’s something I’ve done for the longest time. Something just for me. And I find because it’s “mine” I get really weary of sharing that part of me. It’s almost become sacred.

But here I am.

Have you ever had signs repeatedly smack you across the face? & you still keep walking past them, hoping eventually they’ll fade away or get blurry? Nope, just me?

For those of you who don’t know me… I am a big believer in signs, more specifically energy.

& because of that, I’ve been putting out feelers into the universe hoping that they would come back with the kind of answer I’d like to hear. Well, they did. But more forceful than ever. I’ve had multiple people (recently) telling me my writing is beautiful, my writing saved them, my writing gave them inspiration, or hope. & these were thing I never thought I’d hear. But I did. & even though I think people are being overly nice, I try to accept the compliment and keep listening to that still small voice. Because my writing isn’t about me, it’s about you. It’s just something I’ve been called to do. To shine light and love into the world the best way I know how.

See, for as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to be a voice for those who don’t have one. The bruised, the broken, the homeless. Not to speak over them, but for them. I know so many people that have simply let the light just die out inside because they think they’re all alone. They think they’re unlovable. They think because they’ve made a few mistakes and taken several detours, that make them unworthy of love. and if that’s you, you’re 100% wrong. 100%.

I can see how you would feel that. Maybe you’ve stolen from someone. Maybe you’ve cheated on someone. Maybe you’ve physically hurt someone, or said something you can’t take back.. But that’s the thing about life, everyday we wake up with air in our lungs–that’s a chance to become better. To evolve into the human we both know we can be, the best version. To find the right path, our calling. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve felt down and out about life. It really doesn’t matter about the mistakes you’ve made, as long as you’ve recognized what you did was wrong & asked whomever for forgiveness, including yourself. Because that’s the things, we’re all in this together. We ALL make mistakes and sin differently than the next.

There are most likely demons in my closet you don’t or wont ever know about. We don’t necessarily share that with others, because who likes to share the worst parts about ourselves? No one wants people to see them as weak, or tired, or scared. & something that I’ve been learning more these days is that I can’t do this alone. I can give all my prayers up to God but if I don’t reach out to others that are on Earth… I’ll be struggling for quite a while. But opening up your heart, no matter what… & allowing your vulnerability help the next, that’s where the healing comes into play. & allowing all of your flaws to become a part of who you are… & to shape you into who you’re meant to be. No matter if you feel unqualified, you aren’t.

I truly want people to know that they are loved, always. No matter what you think about yourself. It doesn’t matter if you’re homeless, anxious, you have a physical ailment, an alcoholic, someone who may have been abused in the past… You. Are. Loved. & I am here to make sure you remember it.