If You Want to Make God Laugh, Tell Him Your Plans

     There's a Yiddish proverb that says, "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans." I feel like this year, particularly the last 6 months, I've been making plans and God has been laughing Himself silly. 

     At the start of this year, I thought I had everything figured out: literally everything. Towards the end of February, I was thrown a major curveball but by spring I had regrouped and come up with a new plan, the one I wrote about in my previous post. You know, where I was going to finish my degree in Montana because I had gotten a scholarship?  I have mentioned previously how I was waiting for God to direct me to my "next big adventure;" I waited for direction that I felt came from Him....and I waited....and I waited, and all I seemed to be getting was radio silence. Since I absolutely despise the feeling of sitting still and being stagnent, I went ahead and made my plans to attend UM because it "made sense." *cue God's laughter* 

     As summer wore on, I became more and more depressed at the idea of going to school in Missoula. Between my scholarships and grants tuition was taken care of, all I had to do was find an apartment and sign up for classes, but I was dragging my feet: something didn't feel right. Mid July, I called my mom and told her I needed to talk. I hopped into Coconut and drove to my parents' house. Sitting out on my folks' back porch, I began to bawl. I told my mom how everything was all set for me to move and start a new chapter, but I was miserable. I told her how I felt almost a sense of obligation to attend UM since I had been awarded the scholarship I didn't even apply for and because I'd been telling everyone all summer I would be in Missoula that fall. More importantly than that, I just had this feeling I couldn't shake, it was like a literal pull back to Utah. Her response was, "then what are you still doing in Montana?" After discussing a few more ideas and options, I climbed back in my car, placed a call to my favorite redhead and said, "Do you still think you could get me a job at Fidelity?" 

The next month was pretty stressful as I cancelled things with UM, broke the news to friends in Montana that I would be leaving the state, laughed with my Utah friends who almost didn't believe that I was finally coming home, and looked into online classes through BYU. 

Because of how everything has worked out, I can honestly say moving back to Utah might not have been my original plan, but it was most definitely a part of God's plan for me. Right before I left I found out I have/had cervical cancer (ladies, get your annual exams done! Trust me, it's worth it!), and found the most amazing doctor who, once I made her aware of my issues and concerns due to PTSD, was extremely sensitive and kind (I go back in for an exam in a couple months and hopefully I'll be 100% cured). I started working for an amazing company that takes great care of its employees and provides full benefits and encourages and pays for their staff to attend therapy (I'm so excited about that fact as I continue to work on healing),  and I moved into the most perfect 1 bedroom apartment that's so secure and cozy. I have been loving the opportunity to decorate my own space for Christmas.

I finally made good on what I've been saying since February I was going to do: on October 20th (when he was just 6 weeks old exactly), I got the sweetest, cutest little puppy in the world. Meet Prince Charming, my mini Australian Shepherd ❤️

     Last but not least, I met someone. When I moved here, my heart was still mending from earlier in the year and I told everyone that while I would still go on dates because I wasn't opposed to the idea of meeting new people, I wasn't actively engaged in "the hunt." For the first time in my life, I was taking time for me; to work on myself, discover new hobbies, work on old projects, develop my talents, and have adventures with only little Prince by my side. Wouldn't you know, that's when he entered from stage left. It's still too early to tell if he's "the one", but so far I'm happier and more accepted by him than I have ever been before. 

     As 2017 draws to a close and I reflect on all that's transpired for me this year, I have to say, 2017, you were a real ass. But despite all the trials and hardship I faced this year, right after I got Prince Charming, my mom was driving me home from the grocery store and I told her, "You know, this hasn't been an easy year; you could even argue it's been the hardest year of my life so far, and I'm definitely not where I thought I would be at 25 but," I looked down at a sleeping Prince in my arms, "I have almost everything I've ever really wanted: a gorgeous, sweet dog, a good job that pays my bills and provides insurance, a cozy, safe place to live, and potentially a really good man to build the future I've always envisioned." Those are the things that make me happy and contribute to my all around sense of peace, and not a single one of those things would have happened had I not abandoned my plans for myself and gone where I was being directed. 

     Stephen W. Owen, the Young Men General President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints said, 

"I don’t know how the hand of the Lord will manifest itself in your life, but I invite you to look for it. Then, someday 40 years from now, I hope you will also see profound changes in yourself and be filled with gratitude that during this pivotal time in your life, you allowed the Lord to help you become what He wants you to become."

     In my case, I didn't have to wait 40 years, the results were much more immediate and easy to see, but with how the end of 2017 is shaping up, I'm going into 2018 full of excitement and wonder at what God has in store.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, ya'll 

Doctors, Stop the Diabetic Shaming!

Today I'm going to open up about a topic I'm usually pretty quiet about: my diabetes. For those who don't know, I've had type 1 diabetes for almost 20 years. In those 20 years I've only been hospitalized once; that was in January of 2015, and had more to do with exhaustion from the rape than my actual diabetes, so you can say I have it fairly under control. In fact, I can't tell you how many times I've heard, "you don't look like a diabetic!" although, I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposed to look like...but I digress. 

Like most of my fellow diabetics, I sometimes run across medical personnel who like to tell me what I should and should not eat, and like my beta cell-less cohorts, this is my reaction 9 out of 10 times:

Why, do you ask? Are diabetics just self-destructive little morons? Some of us are, yes, but for me and my friends, the real reason we respond the way we do is because you guys really don't know what you're talking about and should leave the carb counting to us. 

The thing diabetics have to watch out for/monitor is their carb intake. For every number of carbohydrates we consume, we have to take a unit of insulin via injection, and the ratio for carbs to units varies from diabetic to diabetic depending on a variety of factors. 

Here's the thing: the diabetic's body doesn't differentiate if it is getting carbs from a starchy meal, or a dang cupcake, it registers it all the same and the insulin we inject works the same to counteract the carbs we consume no matter what the carbs are from (and just as an FYI, veggies and especially fruits, have plenty of carbs in them as well). 

Not too long ago I was out having dinner with one of my girlfriend's and her boyfriend. At dinner, my girl had spaghetti; if you read the nutrition facts on a package of spaghetti, there are 43 grams of carbs in it BEFORE you add any tomato sauce. Like most people, she had some bread with her spaghetti and easily consumed over 60 grams of carbs that meal and no one batted an eye at her; however, when we went to Baskin Robbin's later and she wanted a small scoop of ice cream, everyone about lost their freaking minds. Knowing full well that there was a measly 17 grams of carbs in that scoop of ice cream versus her carb fest at dinner, she and I shared a look and these were our reactions to everyone telling us we needed to be "good diabetics:"

and for the record, I don't even really like ice cream.

This post isn't just to inform the general public, but to express my ongoing frustration with the ineffective methods doctors attempt to use on me and others who share my disease after my most recent unpleasant run-in with a doctor. 

My old doc, who was really amazing recently retired and I had to find someone new. I walked in to his office reluctantly but optimistic. After checking my feet to see if I'd lost any sensitivity (where I felt every annoying pin prick), he asked me if I checked my feet every night for sores. I honestly answered no, because my feet are sensitive and I would feel if I had a sore long before I saw it. He freaked out and told me I needed to be actually staring at my feet every night to be looking for sores. I tried again, "Look, I can't even walk across a cement driveway barefoot because my feet are so sensitive I feel the little pebbles and they hu-" "DO YOU KNOW the risk you run as a diabetic of having your feet amputated?" at this point the communication broke down and I realized he was just one more ignorant doctor and I started treating him how most diabetes treat those in the medical field. "Oh no," I replied, "somehow I've gone 20 years without anyone mentioning those possibilities to me." He sent me home with a diabetic foot care pamphlet. 

I wish I could say that that situation was isolated, but I can't. From stories my friends have shared, my personal experiences, as well as articles I've read online, it's very apparent that medical personnel tend to treat diabetics like we are irresponsible idiots. But here's the thing: we aren't. Diabetes is an incredibly complicated animal. What works for my girl Becca does not work for me, and what works for me doesn't work for my girl Cassidy. Our bodies, our schedules, and our lifestyles are completely different, therefore our diabetes management styles are completely different. When I was a child, I had a friend who was a diabetic and our lifestyles were very similar, and yet she was hospitalized many times when I wasn't and no one, not even us, knew why. Which is why: 

Now, I know there's another side of this, the ugly side when diabetes isn't being managed well. I had another friend who was in the ER last fall because he wasn't doing what he needed to. His doctor walked into his room and said, "so you're the diabetic who isn't taking his insulin. How is that working out for you?" Doctors, let me ask you this: if your intent is truly to help and you would like us to hear what you have to say, how on earth do you expect your patient to be at all willing to communicate with you and overcome the issues that are preventing them from doing what they know they need to after a comment like that? 

When I was diagnosed at the age of 4 and my poor, sweet mother was still learning how to take care of me and stressing herself out, my doctor told her to relax, that she was doing great and that the biggest problem they face with diabetics is getting them to come in for their checkups. At the time, that made no sense to my mother, but after reading my experiences and those of my friends, perhaps you can see why that may be. 

For me, I can eat whatever I want and take insulin and my body reacts the way I want it to. Some are not so lucky and have to be more strict with their diet. Then there are those diabetics who, knowing what's at stake, don't take care of themselves at all. In all three cases, however, none of us deserve to be treated like we're intellectually inferior to doctors or nurses, because, in reality, when diabetics are first diagnosed, it's their fellow diabetics who are the best help because we have real life experience and application of what it's like to live with this disease, not just an outside view of life with diabetes. In fact, when I was first diagnosed I saw a pediatric endocrinologist who was himself a diabetic and his take on diabetes management and his advice was quite different than what any medical staff has since communicated. While I would never wish diabetes on anyone, if there was a way to give every medical personnel diabetes for one month so they could see what it's like, I would, because I know then they would sing a much different, kinder tune.

To my non diabetic friends, thanks for taking the time to read this. To my diabetics, remember, food is to be enjoyed, just remember your insulin 💖

Life, Goals, and My New Adventure

Greetings souls! 

Since a lot of life has taken place since I last wrote, I'll take a second and catch ya'll up on the key points:

I started a new job, 

got the daith piercing which has helped with my anxiety immensely (and only slightly hurt like a mofo) and I highly recommend it to anyone who deals with moderate to sever anxiety,

Daith piercing for anxiety 

 I've continued to work for Sweet Pea's Dream Makers doing princess parties and charity events and got to debut the costume for Elena of Avalor,

Aurora, Rapunzel, Ariel (Mermaid), Ariel (princess), Elena of Avalor, Elsa, and Belle

since GG was literally about to kill me, I bought a pretty new car I affectionately call Coconut, 
and I am going to go back to school this fall. 

At the start of the year, I was torn between staying in Montana and moving back to Utah. I wanted to go back to Utah to be with my friends (I can't even express how much I miss them), and rekindle things with my Airman, but I knew if I did, school would continue to be put on hold. I wouldn't be able to afford out of state tuition and it would be at least a year before I could become a Utah resident, and my scholarship opportunities there would be limited.

 A month ago a friend on Facebook posted a picture of his daughter and had a proud papa moment where he bragged that she was turning 16 and starting college this fall. He posted that he was proud of the beautiful person she had become and how she wanted to help others and change the world. In that moment I saw so much of who I was before the rape in her eyes. I had become so focused on healing myself that I began to lose sight of the force that always propelled me forward: the desire to help others and to change the world. Yes, I needed to take time for myself to heal, and by doing Miss Montana I still tried to reach out to and help others, but now it's time to take the next step and finish school and become a Marriage and Family Therapist with an emphasis in Post Traumatic Stress Disorder so that I can save both families and individuals through my education and personal experience. I've barely begun to apply and one school in particular has already awarded me enough in scholarships that I won't have to worry about tuition for the next two semesters. A couple posts back I wrote that I was waiting for God to direct me to my next adventure; I think this is it, and man does it feel good to finally have direction again.

Seriously, Enough With the Creepy Elves

Merry Christmas, Everyone! 

It's been a minute since I've written a post (I took a job with the Montana GOP that kept me crazy busy), but there's something that's been on my mind since the first week of December that has officially crept under my skin to the point that it's time I take to my keyboard and share my thoughts and ideas, although scattered they may be, with the world. 

Anyone who has had even a semi lengthy conversation with me knows that 1) I am hardly a prude 2) my sense of humor can, at times, become very dark and twisted. Like most people, I get a kick out of the "Naughty Elf on a Shelf" pictures. You know, the ones where the elf is doing something not quite befitting of Buddy the Elf, like this little guy: 

That image is obviously one of the more mild ones you will see during a quick google images search of "Naughty Elf on the Shelf."  I will admit, I laughed at these slightly darker pictures a little harder than I probably should have. 

 

Haha horrible, right? As I said, I am no prude and I can definitely laugh at inappropriate things, but to me, the following images cross a line.

        

At this point I'm sure some of you are rolling your eyes and thinking, "come on, Samantha, don't take this so seriously, it's just a doll, joke, etc." but you see, it's not a joke, not to me. Hear me out: as someone who was raped, I am painfully aware that we live in a society where rape culture and victim shaming are all too common. Images like this that make light of violent crimes, especially against women, do not help. They don't help victims of sexual crimes, and they continue to perpetuate negative attitudes that contribute to the reasons victims of sexual assault often do not report the attack. They also have an emotional impact on the victims even once they've sought help. I can honestly tell you that images like these are mildly triggering for me, and I don't even suffer from severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (anymore). My heart aches for my brothers and sisters out there who are still working through their traumatic experiences and stumble upon images like these as they scroll through their news feed. 

I personally find these "jokes" so upsetting because Elf on the Shelf was originally thought up as a means to bring more joy into the lives of children during Christmas time. While I am all for pushing the line of appropriateness with most things, there's a fine line between having a dark sense of humor and encouraging, even unintentionally, horrific violence against others. 

With that, I will hop down from my soapbox fashioned from gingerbread and hope for visions of sugar plum fairies while I try to sleep. To my fellow dirty birds who understand the line of appropriateness, keep the funny Elf on the Shelf pictures coming, I actually look forward to them all year.

I Never Would Have Imagined

About this time two years ago, I made what some people would probably call the biggest mistake of my life. 

About this time two years ago, I sent a text message with my address to the person I thought was my new gay best friend to come over and have a "girls night" with me.

In that moment, I never would have imagined that that one action would cause me, a few short hours later, to be drugged and raped. 

Hours later, as I laid on the floor begging God to let my heart stop beating, I never would have imagined that two years later, if I was given the chance to go back to that night, I would still send that text message.

     It's true, the months that followed were the hardest, darkest days of my life. But within those dark days were some of the most beautiful moments anyone could ever hope to experience. 

     Despite what I had just been through, I met and I fell in love with a wonderful man who showed me what it meant to be loved and cared for, forever raising the bar on how I expect to be treated. I spent Valentine's Day on the beach, watching the sun set, thanking God that I was still alive. 

     Around the same time, I made friends with five people I grew to love as family, who have been the greatest, most supportive friends anyone could hope to have.

     I got my heart broken. I moved home and worked for the summer, had adventures, and was a bridesmaid along the way. 

     I went back to school. I fell in love again, with someone who, once again, showed me what real love was and held my hand through some dark nights as I underwent exposure therapy to overcome the events from the previous year. 

     I felt God pulling me in a new direction and moved home to compete in a pageant where I shared my story with as many people as would hear it, and, based on the messages I received and cherish, I helped touch the lives of many others who had also been hurt. 

I  survived.

 I LIVED. 

To the monster who tried to tried to destroy me: you did NOT succeed, and although I never would have imagined it possible in those early hours of the morning on August 30th, 2014, I became so much better, so much kinder, and so much stronger because of you. Because of you, I grew even closer to a God I already loved, and gained a new perspective on all the many, many blessings He bestowed on me after your heinous crime. So for that, I thank you, and may God have mercy on your soul. 

As for me, I'm doing better than I ever would have imagined. 

Post Pageant Musings

Now that the pageant has come and gone, and I can finally eat more than just almonds, apples, and salads (bring on the chocolate!), I've had time to reflect on the whirlwind that was this past week. 

I didn't win the crown, but I won Montana's Choice by a landslide. It meant more to me than I can put into words that my family and friends, those who actually know me and what I stand for, instead of a panel of 5 strangers, wanted me as their Miss Montana so much that they literally spent thousands of dollars to vote for me. For that, I thank each and every one of you for believing in me and supporting me.

While I can't say that the pageant itself promoted a lot of personal growth or development for me, it was a vehicle for a lot of amazing spiritual experiences. I had to rely on God completely to get me through that week. So much so that on the night of the pageant, as I stood back stage, getting ready to play piano, I was freaking out. I started praying, more like begging, my Father in Heaven to give me strength. In that moment, I heard the words in my head, "fear not, for I am with thee" and almost instantly an overwhelming calm came over me. I walked out on stage, played my piece almost perfectly, and walked off stage to wait. The second I was clear of the curtains, my legs gave out, and my body began to shake. It was as if someone had literally been walking with me, holding me up, and then was gone. 

When I first made the decision to compete in Miss Montana, I made the statement that if I only reached one person in the audience, it would all be worth it, and I frequently prayed for opportunities to help those who needed to hear my message. I think that prayer was answered during the second  night of preliminaries (thank you to my stealthy photographer) 

                                     

The applause I heard, which didn't cease until after I exited the stage, told me my message resounded with many in the audience, and my first thought as I walked through the curtains was, "that was it, that was why I came here." 

I'm not sure what my next adventure will be. I have ideas, but no definitive decisions. For now, I'm going to enjoy my summer and wait for God to unveil where my next journey will take me.

Miss Montana Musings

One week from right now, I'll be getting settled in for pageant week. As I began to make my daunting final to-do list before I start my adventure, I realized I needed to write down a couple of my thoughts. 

When people watch the Miss Montana/Miss America Pageant, all they see are gorgeous girls in pretty dresses competing for a title. They have no clue the amount of blood, sweat, and tears goes into the preparation for that one night; I certainly didn't. When I came home for Christmas break and decided, almost on a whim, "Hey, I should compete in Miss Montana next year! I'll make my platform something about rape culture and help raise awareness!" I had no clue how much work was ahead of me, how many nights, as I told and retold my story from the night I was raped and continued to face my demons, I would fall on my knees crying, asking God if I could really do this, and begging for strength. I didn't realize the amount of time I would need to devote to the pageant, from learning a piano piece, to toning up in the gym, to seeking sponsors, or getting the word out about my platform and what I stand for. If I didn't believe in sharing my message, if I didn't think continuing the dialogue about rape culture was so important, I never would have agreed to put this much time, effort, and energy into this. However, this has already been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. I've pushed myself to my limits and came out on top, conquered fears I wasn't even aware I had, and I have already made connections with some truly remarkable ladies, as well as heard from fellow rape survivors who have thanked me for fighting for all of us. 

I want to thank all of my amazing sponsors: 

Doctor Mark Lies,
Trever Crain at Crain Chiropractic,
Steven Rowley, 
Whitney and Kelsi at Shears to You,
Sarah Maki at Lashes by Sarah,
Honda of Great Falls,
Jodi and crew at Dimitri's,
King Ag, 
Andy Taylor,
Kernaghan Inc

You guys are incredible and I couldn't have done this without your support! 

Speaking of support, I have the greatest group of people in my life anyone could hope for. I want to thank my parents for putting up with me and how the pageant has kind of ruled our lives for the last few months, Skyler for supporting me and being privy to almost every breakdown I had in the early months and always coming back with, "you can do this." Hunter for setting up the GoFundMe page to help me pay for everything, Derrick for hooking me up with my photographer, Anthony, Mike, and crew for being there these last couple weeks and taking me on adventures so that I didn't become ridiculously stressed out, Gordon for arranging that fundraiser, and everyone who has messaged me to say good luck and that they believe in me. It may have seemed like a little thing to you, but I have cherished and drawn strength from every kind word or message I've received, whether from an old friend or complete stranger.  No matter what happens on June 11, I want to thank everyone for the outpouring of love and support I've felt, and I thank God for giving me this opportunity. 


While I'm sure this will be me during the interview portion of the pageant: 

And anyone who has ever seen me face-plant on a flat surface knows the high probability of this happening during swimsuit or evening gown: 

I'm excited for next week and all the adventures and friendships it will bring. I've worked long and hard to get here, and I'm ready to see what the Miss Montana pageant has in store for me. At the end of the day: