Morning Routine Voiceover Cheatsheet!

I’m planning on doing a morning routine video on my Youtube channel, Milly Rose, and I thought I would make it a little more difficult and entertaining by incorporating my Spanish class into it. So, with the limited knowledge I have of Spanish thanks to one semester of Spanish 1, I present to you:

My English-And-Spanish Voiceover Cheatsheet for Milly’s First Day Back to School Morning Routine!

Hi, my name’s Amelia, and today is the first day of my second semester at college. I’m going to show you my morning routine. Let’s begin!

Hola, me llamo Amelia, y hoy es el primero dia de mi semestre dos a mi universidad. Voy a mostrar usted mi horario de la mañana. ¡Comensamos!

I begin my morning at 5am and start by taking my morning medicine. If you want a video on that, let me know in the comments below!

Comienso mi mañana a las cinco, y tomo mi medicina de la mañana. Si quieres un video explicar por que necesito medicina, ummmm… dices me debajo de. ¡Volvemos al ingles!

The next thing I do is get ready to run. I get dressed, put on my shoes, and put up my hair.

La proxima cosa es preparar correr. I don’t know how to say all that in Spanish quite yet… pero puedes ver que hago.

Now I’m going to pack my food. I’m packing oatmeal for breakfast, an apple and peanut butter for lunch, and then the same for dinner.

Ahora preparo mi comida. Preparo I don’t know how to say that, una manzana y however you say peanut butter for lunch, y la misma cosa por mi cena. Honestly, I don’t know much Spanish but I’m surprised I’ve gotten this far.

The fourth thing I do is pack my backpack.

La cosa cuatro, es preparar mi mochila.

First, I take my computer.

Primera, traigo mi computadora.

Second is my binder, with all my papers and homework.

El cosa dos es mi cuaderno, con todos mis papeles y mi tarea.

Third is a bunch of random stuff: Chargers, wallet, emergency kit, some pens and pencils, an eraser, superglue for some reason, staples for my nonexistent staple, paperclips even though I never use them, and more.

Tres es mas cosas. I don’t know how to say most of these except for unos plumas y lapices, un borrador, y mas.

Finally, I bring my lunch in my backpack, and now I’m going to close it.

Finalmente, traigo mi uhhh lunch, en mi mochila, y ahora voy a cerrar.

When my backpack is ready, I leave my house to run at 6:10am.

Cuando mi mochila es buena, salgo mi casa correr a las seis y diez de la mañana.

So, that was my morning routine for the first day of my second semester at college.

Que es mi horario de la mañana por el primero dia de mi semestre dos a la universidad.

I hope you enjoyed and got a kick out of me trying to incorporate my Spanish class into this video. I know I’m not very good, and that’s because I’ve only just finished Spanish 1, but I do know that this was a great opportunity to practice the things I do know, and a good way to track my improvement through the years to come.

Espero te gusta este video, y lo siento que estoy mala con español. Comprendo el video es malo. El video es malo porque tengo una clase de español, y comienso una mas clase de español, la clase de español dos. Me gusta practicar español, y este es una via ver me hacer mas bien.

Again, I’m very sorry, but also — Thank you for watching! Tell me what you thought of the video below, please.

Un tiempo mas, lo lamento, pero tambien… ¡Gracias vas este video! Por favor, dices me que piensas del video.

See you later!

¡Nos vemos!

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To My College…

Hi, it’s Amelia. You may not know who I am, but you probably have seen me, holed up in a corner, studying.

If you’ve seen me, you know I smile a lot. Whether I’m in what I like to call the “Teacher’s Hallway”, the library, or some other spot, I try my best to smile at everyone I notice. It’s attracted a lot of attention, both good and bad.

So many people seem pleasantly surprised to see me smile at them, to compliment them, to greet them. I’ve made friends with several teachers and librarians this way, and everyone comments on how I’m “always smiling”.

Everyone notices. But no one asks why.

Today was my last normal day of school for this semester. Starting next Monday, I have several finals, and then I’m free from three classes. I won’t see any of my new friends for a whole month, and so I made sure I said goodbye to as many as I could.

I told my speech teacher how much I love and appreciate her and her class. I told my librarian friend goodbye, and after failing to find any other friends, I left.

I know, it’s probably over the top. What kind of student goes around college, saying goodbye to people they barely know, when they’re just finishing their first semester of their first year? For someone already signed up for next semester’s classes, I feel the need to say goodbye too elaborately.


Because I know life is unpredictable. I’ve bounced from school to school all my life. The longest I stayed in one school was four years, before they stopped offering classes. Just last year, I attended one school for a semester before quitting and signing up for another one. I liked the second school, and I felt like I might find a good rythm there, but as soon as spring semester ended, the administration disintigrated and I was left to find another school for senior year.

I’ve grown accustomed to not knowing what school I’ll attend next. I’m used to making friends, just to be forgotten by them four months later. I know tomorrow is not guarrunteed, and that’s why I make an extra effort each day.

Last year, I wasn’t where I am now. Last year, I was depressed, suicidal, and harmed myself. Last year, I was bored to tears with the classes I took, and last year, I hated everything.

Last year, my parents didn’t realize the extent of my hate and depression because they were too busy keeping me alive. Last year, I didn’t think I would live to see 2017. Last year, I was hurting a lot, and last year, I believed a whole lot of lies.

Last year, I was empty. I hardly smiled, and if I laughed, I punished myself, because there was too much about me that was wrong for me to laugh at anything except in derision at myself. I considered myself friendless, hopeless, and worthless.

Overall, I’d say last year was pretty dark.

Today, I laughed until I couldn’t breathe. Today, I laughed with people when I tripped twice in a row — without a single degrading thought about myself. Today, I was interrupted by a smile spreading across my face. Today, I drank a bunch of water to stay hydrated,. Today, I ate foods that make me feel good, I wore clothes I love, even though they don’t match at ALL, and simply enjoyed being a kid again, because today, I knew I’m beautiful no matter what I’m wearing. I played guitar, sang some songs, and hung out with my friends without worrying about offending someone. Today, I enjoyed being in school, and today, I’m sad to know this semester is over.

Today is so full of joy and life and love. I have so many friends, and I am so loved, and I love so many. But today, I remember that last year, being who I am now, seemed impossible.

Last year, being happy and laughing with my friends was something I felt guilty about dreaming of. Today, I realize that so many people may not know what they’re worth. So many people don’t believe they’re loved or worthy of love. So many people are sad and hopeless, and so many people need a smile.

Today, I realize that I have a superpower. Several, actually. I have the superpower of letting people know they’re loved. When someone’s genuinely happy to see you, people are generally happy in response. Some are arrogantly happy, like, “Of course you like me!”, and others are genuinely perplexed, like, “Who are you? But I like that you’re nice!” I love that I can let everyone know they’re cared for, regardless of whether I know them. I think it’s even better when I don’t know someone, because then it’s like, “You’ve given me no reason to like or dislike you. All I know is you’re a human being, and that’s all I need to know. You are worthy of respect, because you’re made in God’s image.”

But that’s just one superpower. My second superpower is the ability to show others what I see.

I haven’t always seen the world the way I do now. I haven’t always seen God at work everywhere, I haven’t always seen people as images of God’s beauty, I haven’t always seen light and love. I haven’t always seen Jesus. But I do now. I do see God at work. I believe that He’s at work in and through me, and I believe with every smile, every wave, every “Hey, how are you?”, that He’s using me to let others know they’re loved, that they matter, and that maybe the world isn’t as bleak as it seems.

I won an award for a poem one month ago. That means people listened to it, and something about it struck a chord with their heart.

That poem was filled with imagery from the Bible. That poem was bursting with Bible truths. They agreed with the Bible, whether they realize it or not.

I showed people how I see the world, what I see every day, and they liked it. They liked Jesus. I may be the only person they know that loves Jesus. Probably not, but I might be. I know I do have God’s image. I know I’m labeled as a Christian, so my actions may be how they perceive God. So I want to make sure, while I can, to let people know that I love them. That I appreciate them. That they’re special. That they have value. So much value.

I know what I say and do matters. And I know I only have so long to say and do what I want to say and do.

I’m not guarranteed next year. I’m not guarrunteed next semester. Tomorrow may never come for me.

But today, I choose love.

I choose Jesus.

I may not have always chosen God before, and I may not choose Him ever again, but right now, I have a choice, and I choose God.

So Daddy, in all things, be King.

Posted in Milly's Musings | Leave a comment

Tips for Artists

Hi! It’s Milly, coming at you after a pretty heartfelt post a few minutes ago. I decided to post what I came on here originally to do — share some tips I have for artists.

There are all sorts of artists in the world. There are painters, writers, dancers, photographers, and musicians. But there are also athletes. Nutritionists. Parents. Videogamers. Everyone has their own form of art. And whether they create chaos or beauty, whether they create clean, ordered lines or capture the darkest moments of life — it’s all art in the end. It’s all our way of sharing how we perceive the world.

I don’t know how you function. I don’t know if you can’t stand being in the same place for hours at a time, or if that’s exactly how you thrive. I don’t know if you like bright colors or if you prefer more subtle tones. I don’t know if you like chocolate, or if you hate it.

But I do know you’re an artist. And artists can become so wrapped up in making sure their final product is perfect that they forget important details. So, I’m writing this as a reminder to myself and in hopes I help someone else who needs this.

  1. Drink water. Last year, I did a lot of art for long periods of time. I hardly did anything but paint. I got really dehydrated and it made me even sicker than before. Make sure you drink water.
  2. Make sure you eat enough. I tend to eat a lot, until I get caught up in a project. Then, it’s a miracle if I eat more than 500 calories in a day. Hint: For a girl my size and age, I should be eating twice that, at the MINIMUM. Yeah. Not good. So make sure you eat. Set a timer if you need to.
  3. Get up and walk around. Make time to be away from your project. Several years ago, I drew about a hundred fish for one art project. I did it in one sitting, and after that, I resented art. I didn’t want to do anything like it again. But now, years later, I’m painting. I love it. And that’s because I let myself take breaks. I listen to other people’s opinions on my work. And then I believe them when they tell me I did a good job.
  4. Let other people take a look at your project. Ask for help. I just finished a picture of snowy woods, and I asked my mom about what she thought, since she’s seen a lot more snow than this Florida born-and-raised gal has. She told me that the yellow tinge on the top kind of reminded her of pee, and I should probably make it whiter. I listened, and I fixed the issue. And when I was done, I was happier with the outcome than I had been before. Don’t take their criticism to heart. They know you don’t want to present anything but your best, and just like a music teacher won’t let you go onstage and play “Hot Cross Buns” when you’re supposed to play “Hedwig’s Theme”, because she knows your ability, asking people for help is just like asking someone to help you present your best work.
  5. Work with other people. If you can, find some other artists who are willing to practice with you. Life is better with friends, and when you have people who are in the same artistic boat as you, they can give you real, specific advice.
  6. Listen to an audiobook or a podcast. This will keep your mind from obsessing over everything wrong in your painting, and that will keep you mentally healthy in the long run. Being relaxed means you present your best. So let yourself relax, and let the beauty stem from there.
  7. Make sure you like what you’re doing. If you don’t like how running makes you feel, then why are you running? If you don’t like writing, why are you writing? If you don’t like the way you’re doing something, why are you continuing to do it that way? Enjoy what you do.

I hope you have a fantastic day and HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!

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Dear Me From Two Months Ago….

It’s Thanksgiving today. You’re still alive. And even though there’s some stressful situations, you’re happy.

You’ve delivered two speeches practically perfectly. One was perfect. The other…. not so much. But it’s okay. Your teacher is honest. You’re okay.

The hand tremors and hallucinations have stopped. You wrote a song about how powerful God is, and it doesn’t touch on anxiety or depression. You can’t figure out how to word some parts, or how to match the chords to the melody, but you’re okay with that.

You’ve had some hard days. You put Zeke down, and while it hurt, you didn’t become depressed. You practically aced the Spanish test right after, and it’s okay, because it was his time to go. You don’t have to worry about not being crushed by his death. It’s okay.

In fact, Mrs. Houts asked if you were okay, and you opened up a little to her. And that’s okay. It’s good to open up sometimes, Lil Mil.

Speaking of the Houts’, you came to class with a close-to-migraine headache and probably a fever on Tuesday. You felt worse every minute, and a loud booming voice didn’t help. You probably looked depressed, and since we both know they talk about you, and me, he probably knows our penchant for depression.

(Side note: It’s not our penchant. It’s not ours at all — we gave it to Jesus, and we’re free. We are free from shame and fear, and we have eternal life and love and victory in Jesus over death and sin. Woohoo!!)

He noticed you looked sad the other day, and I can tell: He didn’t like seeing you sad. He tried his best to cheer you up. He did. He started class overly sassy, something that made you shrink. But then we got into drills and the actual lesson. It was so funny. Even though you had a headache, you tried your best, and at every opportunity, he did something extra to make you laugh, I think. He would point “like the cool kids” in your direction. He picked on you in class several times… Maybe to make you feel better about yourself (“I got that right! I can do this!”), or to engage you, I don’t know. And then he talked about “movles”, which is apparently how the cool kids pronounce “movies”. It was so bad. But it was so funny. And by the end of class, even though the headache was still there, there was more energy.

In Mrs. Houts’ class, everyone was apparently really, really blah. Nobody was really smiling, and we all apparently looked angry. Even though I had an excuse to not smile, I did my best. And by the end of class, I felt loads better.

Little Amelia… You’re not really little. It’s just two months ago. But I’m filled with love and compassion for you. And I think I might actually be okay with loving myself right now.

A year ago, the very idea that other people tolerated me was nauseating and disappointing. I believed I was everything wrong in the world.

Eight months ago, I was trying to fix myself and failing. I became overwhelmed by all my bad choices.

Six months ago, you were trying so hard to cling to truth. You didn’t realize God’s truth, God’s word — Jesus — was holding on to you, too.

Five months ago, you were genuinely happy for a few weeks. You were so excited, and you were so worried you’d slip into a deeper depression. Because that’s what had happened last time.

Four months ago, you were content. You weren’t super happy. You weren’t glowing all the time. But you were happy. And compared to all you’d gone through emotionally, you were hoping you’d stay the same. You were still scared that being overly energetic, overly happy, would mean you were everything you strive not to be.

You stayed that way for several months. You swung back and forth between borderline depressed and extremely anxious to overly happy and not a care in the world, to just okay. You watched your best friend die. You were with the dog, who’s been your guardian for fifteen years, as he hit the ground one last time in the vet, as they put him down and you rubbed his head one last time. You watched him lose vitality — over months, and in minutes.

You cried. You had your moment, and then you had to be tough. And you were.

You stayed intact emotionally for the rest of the day, when you had a test and speech class and geometry homework. You took care of yourself that day. You realized you might not take care of yourself while mourning Zeke, and so you placed yourself in a place where you could watch other people. You forced yourself to be with other humans, because you knew that if left alone, you might not make good choices. You forced yourself to remember that life is still beautiful. You knew that even though he was dead, you could still celebrate and be thankful for the moments you had with him. You knew you shouldn’t dwell on the negatives, and so you focused on the positives. You reinforced truth and love and took care of God’s precious girl. I think you took care of yourself as best as you could that day, and you did all right.

And you know what? In this past month, in developing your speech and writing your poem, in the whole messed up process of giving your poem and even though you lied to your momma — God’s worked it out for good. Because you won a prize for your speech, meaning it touched someone’s heart. Because you touched Ellen, even though she’s MIA right now — you made her feel loved. Because in developing your speech, you made the decision to open up about your experience, instead of shut down. You got up there, and you gave your speech. You faltered for a bit, but you recovered, and in the end, you survived. You were a little disappointed with your end result, knowing it could’ve been better, but I know it’s okay, and it probably encouraged other people. Because several others gave their speeches on similar topics, and you might have encouraged them to open up about their experience.

And now, today, on Thanksgiving morning, Little Milly, you’re in your room, typing away at a blog you’ve had for eight years. It used to be Bible-centered. Then it became DIY-centered. Then, it disappeared. You didn’t have time for it, and you felt like you were no good at the internet. You dreamed of being a Youtuber, and you showed it with every time you were bored, as you developed your own unique show without having a camera.

Little Milly, this blog then turned into your online journal. An outlet for your emotions when your thoughts flew faster than your hands could write legibly. And you documented some pretty dark stuff. Stuff you probably won’t let anyone see, for quite some time. But being the girl I know you are, you will share it sometime. To encourage, to be honest, to heal — for whatever reason, God’s got a plan for you. You have a future.

I wanted to write about how I’m your future, and how I’m the girl you always dreamt about. But 1) that sounds too much like the Flash, and he turned out to be a bad guy in the end. And 2) I don’t think I’ll ever be the girl I dreamt about being. I’ll never be perfect until I’m up in Heaven, completely focused on God and nothing else at all.

But Milly? I’m pretty happy being who I am. I don’t want to have had any other experience, and I don’t wish that God had deleted me from existence. I’m really thankful You chose me, Daddy. I don’t know what You chose me for, except that You’ve chosen me to be Yours. So in all things, be King. And in all things, I’m Yours.

I’m in my room at the desk I begged my parents for as a kid. I’m thankful I have this desk… even though I haven’t always kept it clean, like I promised I would at 9 years old. I’m about to start painting again. Yesterday, I painted some peaches. And they look pretty good.

Last year, I used painting as a way to abuse my body and abuse my mind. I used it as a way to hate myself, and I succeeded. Today, I paint because I love it. I paint because I love seeing things come to life. I love that I have been blessed with the ability to go, “I could paint that.” And then paint it.

I love that I can bring life to life from paint on a white page. I love that I can put my imagination on paper and let people see what I see. I think it’s a superpower, and I want to show people what I see. Because I see Jesus. I see life. I see love. I see beauty, and I haven’t always. Some people may not be able to see the vibrancy of life. Some people may have forgotten what love looks like. I have the ability to remind people of that, in words, in art, and oh yes in actions. So.

Daddy, I commit to You my heart. I commit to You my art, my life, and my love. Before anything else, I am Yours. Before anything else, You come first. Help me to honor and glorify You in everything. Help me to make the right choices, to listen to You before I do anything else, to consciously and constantly pursue You every moment of every day I exist. Because Daddy, You brought me into Your love and life and arms to glorify You. You brought me out of darkness into Your marvelous light, and Daddy, You love me so much I can’t ever begin to understand how fantastic You are. So Daddy, I give You my heart. I give You my everything. Thank You for giving me You. Thank You for being my everything. You’ve blessed me with so much. May I bless Your Name, and bless other people with Your love. Thank You for choosing me to be Yours. I love You! Xoxo, Milly.


Because I am Yours, Daddy, I sign my name with a capital M. Not because I deserve respect for what I’ve done, but because I’m Yours, and my Maker deserves all respect. Thank You for renewing, refilling, and redeeming even the messiest mess. I love You.

To the readers…..

You are loved. You are able. You are blessed, and you are made with purpose.

Xoxo, Milly.

Posted in My prayers and praises | Leave a comment


me llamo inigo montoya. tu mortas mi padre. preparas mortere.

LOL. Just kidding. I just thought I’d blog to catch up mentally.

So. Meltdown in early August because I was slipping into old habits. High anxiety for several weeks because I’ve been told repeatedly to shut up and I never do so I end up shutting down. Then there was Mr. Ken, who just kinda weirded me out. But all I could do was bottle it up. I felt the inner core shaking feeling while I was sickish in August. I had that one hard day where I passed out, technically never stopped shaking. There are moments where it’s quiet. Peaceful. But then I realize it’s stopped, and I think about why, and then it starts again.

I think it’s because of anxiety. I think everything right now pretty much stems from anxiety. Running mimics panic attacks, thus triggering them. I stuff it down, my hands get shaky. Daily anxiety bottles up, triggering chronic-ish hand tremors. Annoying. Slightly concerning. Let’s not forget the maybe hallucinations. At one point I had so much anxiety I felt like it influenced my visual perception of the world. Yesterday, I had something similar. Today, I kinda got dizzy laughing and looking down. Some people are concerned about me. Others think it’s nothing. Still others think I’m overreacting, that it happens to everyone, and that I need to chill out. I don’t know. But I’m determined to ask Tom about hallucinations and hand tremors, at least. I’ll do my best to take care of this temple.

Daddy, I choose You. Please help me to choose You.

I love You! xoxo, milly

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pain and anxiety make it hard to come up with titles

migraine. broccoli.

anxiety. cauliflower.

where’s the spice? where’s the fiery love that casts out fear? I choose Jesus right now even though I haven’t before and I may not in the future. I don’t feel good right now at all, but I still choose Jesus with the mental ability I have right now. And it’s all of me that chooses Jesus.

Okay. Let’s talk about my funeral.

am I giving too much thought? too much power? I don’t know. Probably. I also haven’t been able to sleep.

Daddy, please give me rest and peace. and if this is dangerous, please make me not want to. or something. I dunno. I’m in a lot of pain. But I should stop whining about it. I just have to toughen up.

wait… I hate how when I’m sick, I push myself harder. When I’m struggling mentally, I push myself harder. People like me better that way. But then, when I’m not, I don’t push myself as hard. because I feel like I deserve a rest. but no. that’s an idiot move, Me. shoosh. push yourself and let others push you.

Okay. Back to it.

people I want to invite to funeral as of 2017:

  1. family. duh. just let them know it’s totally fine to miss it. I don’t care.
  2. Since friends is such a long list, i hope, I’m going to first figure out mentors/adulter friends. Everyone and whoever wants to come from their family I guess. I don’t exactly know why someone would WANT to come to a funeral. But that’s besides the point. So… Mrs. Lee and Papa Kernie. Nina and Olivia. Nathan and Christina. Tom and Katie. Boyers.. Karaffa’s. Ottingers. Mr. Hancock. Houts’. Make sure the Ottingers and Houts’ meet. Ugh. Stupid headache. Okay. Hm…. Paluso. Ms. Licia. Cieslaks. Blanchards. Foree’s. Mrs. Dee. Too much overthinking. It doesn’t really matter if people I don’t really feel close to, come, does it? I dunno.
  3. Friends. Hm. I think summarizing every youth person from Emily/Connor era to 2017 will do fine. so, Chapmans, Becky and Rachel Porhammer, I don’t know why but I feel like I should write Michael and Jessica so them too, Robinsons, Boyers, McTurners, Nicole, Breigh, Lena, Fourniers, oh yeah, Chase, Jaudons, Franklins, and I don’t remember anyone else. Then, Brevard HEAT XC running team from Marty. Probably 2015? Etiennes, Thurman, Ridgely, Gotcher, Diaz, Sutton, Meredith, Velez, Soliz, Salyers, Cronkhite etc. Might as well throw in some OSH people. Whoever wanna come. Whatever. And volleyball folk, if they care. Kara, Alyssa, Isabel, Jack Wells, whoever.

Okay. I want to make it clear: It don’t matter who comes, just trying to figure out what people to have this written generally for. Because I am apparently paranoid that I’ll die and leave things unsaid.

So. To the family.

I have no idea. Please don’t waste time grieving for me. Instead, party that 1) I’m in Heaven. I’m finally faster than all y’all and I get to see Jesus! Haha. and 2) you don’t have to deal with me:) Thank you for putting up with me. Please let this be an opportunity to draw closer to Jesus and each other, rather than a time where people show up and fight. Because there’s too much fighting already. Make time for each other.  Go out of your way to remember family. Cause you’re stuck with family.

Andrew, I don’t hate you. I love you. I don’t like your choices, and I don’t think they’re what Jesus wants, but I also know my opinion doesn’t matter. So, I’m just gonna make sure you know I love you regardless. I don’t agree or support your choice to be gay. But you are a human being. Everyone messes up. I’m sorry it’s caused so much pain. I love you. I hope you find peace. I’m praying for you.

To anyone and everyone struggling with fear. Lies. Hate. Whatever. Cause apparently depression and anxiety run through the family.

Jesus came to set you free from that. You are not made to be slave to fear. Hate. Lies. Sin. You are a child of God. If Jesus set you free, you are free. End of story. Please choose Jesus. Don’t let the past turn into a fear of the future that consumes your present. Choose Jesus NOW. Live freely in Him NOW. You can’t change the past and you can’t know what’s gonna happen. But you have the power to choose Jesus now. So please, choose Him. And share your struggle with others. It’s a lot easier to bear a burden with other people than it is to face it alone.

To the mentors. Thank you for pouring into me. I hate to be a waste of time, and I think that’s why I have such anxiety around any and all of y’all. Especially the Houts’.

I hope I wasn’t a waste of time. I hope I somehow was a pleasure to mentor, or at least was someone you learned from (

Okay shut up stupid lies. You are not from me and I am not defined by you. I am defined by Jesus and Christ alone. He is my rock and salvation. You have no power over me. Get out in Jesus’ Name.

Thank You Daddy.

Okay. Teachers. Thank you for working so hard. I hope I wasn’t a waste of time. I would love to think that y’all (or ustedes, Sr. H) enjoyed teaching me, that I was a pleasure to teach, and that you looked forward to seeing me. I look forward to seeing all y’all. But to be honest, I think it’s quite the opposite. I make so many mistakes. I’m so annoying. I don’t learn. Frankly, I must be a pretty difficult student. So, I’m sorry. I hate to think I might have wasted time, and Jesus says I’m not a waste of time, because He’s spent time on me (and He’s timeless but He went into time for me so wow okay shut up lies!), so I was not a waste of time. But I hope… I hope it was enjoyable teaching me. I love learning. A lot of y’all saw a sad thing, namely me going down a dark road of believing lies. Mr. O, you noticed that one Monday night. You were dead tired and I was dead inside. But somehow you noticed I was struggling. You asked if I was okay, and I lied terribly, but then it was time for class. But I think you were praying for me. Well guess what? Jesus saved me. So thank you for the prayers. Christina, Katie, Tom, y’all saw I was struggling a lot and y’all walked with me. Had you not shared your testimony the first year in FL, Tom, I wouldn’t have asked for prayer when depression was trying to drown me. Katie, Christina, I don’t even remember when y’all stepped in. But I think it was all via guitar, which is kind of cool. Because guitar is often how God speaks to me now I’m trying to be less dependant on people and totally dependant on God. And if it weren’t for y’all, I would be panicking and still trying to hurt God’s beloved daughter. Nathan, you haven’t really one-on-one poured into me. That’s fine. Cause every lesson, every interaction at Church, I’ve learned. From humble obedience daily at church to the weekly lessons at Youth, I love that God placed you in my life as my youth pastor. And I remember one day, when I was struggling big time with anxiety, and you came in while I was practicing piano, and I paused, and you told me to keep on, and I did, and it was because you are one of the safe people. Some people I don’t feel like I can trust, but Parochellis and Cox’s, y’all are safe people 100%. I’m sorry about that. But also thank you. Mrs. Lee and Papa Kernie, Nina, Olivia, Mrs. Joy, thank y’all for praying, for being friends and mentors and whomever else y’all ended up being — grandparent, sister, aunt, mom — I don’t have any specifics, just that y’all were there. Y’all are the Body of Christ. And I love and appreciate that. Also, I know if I dig too far, this will transform from a therupeutic post into a paralyzing post that makes me emotional and anxious and may spiral dangerously. So. Nina. Sorry bout that. Some memories are open 24/7, and others I protect to keep from crying. Y’all five have memories that are a bit too vulnerable for me right now. I’m sorry. I wish I could write stuff to you too. I guess I have a long time to share though, right?

I need a new paragraph. Boyers and Karaffas. This is cool because it’s making me smile because I remember Hope and I think Charlotte (but it could have been any other little kid, I have a headache okay) leading Rebecca off to their seats because they wanted to sit by her. That smile Rebecca has when kids bless her. Yup. That one. Anyways. Mrs. Arminta. Thank you for being 2Mom. You are awesome. Actually, to all the parents out there:

You are awesome. Y’all are superheroes and superheroines. You are raising mini humans! That you don’t even get to keep! You give everything back to God, really. It’s harder than chewing steak! And steak, well, you chew it forever and while you never really feel ready to swallow, eventually, you just have to. And while you’ve changed its chemical makeup, how it behaves, all that, it’s also changing you. Because you learn from it, to cut things up into smaller chunks and now I’m losing the analogy because I’m just imagining cutting children into chunks and I’m horrified but my head hurts too much and I hope this is funny.

Anyways. Life is hard. And harder with children. I’ll own up to it, being the youngest. Older siblins, you are hardcore. I can’t even handle myself, much less have the patience to deal wtih a toddler me. Y’all are awesome.

Thank you guys for investing so much. Thank you.

Everyone else because this headache is killlling me. I love you. You are loved. You are able. Don’t forget which items are yours. Because if you don’t, they’re free for taking. Or selling. Or volunteering. Oh yeah, Please invite. Mrs. Stacy.

Goodnight. I love you.

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Hurricane Party Essentials

There’s a hurricane coming. How bad it’ll hit my town, no idea. Are we evacuating? Not really… probably not. I’m honestly not sure about what’s up. But, me and my running team have been talking. Who wouldn’t, if they had a meet planned for the day a hurricane was supposedly going to hit?

Long story short, the meet was canceled and thus our pasta party was canceled, too. Ever since, we’ve been discussing how we wish we could just have a hurricane party, eat all the perishables, and have a good time together.

While that’s not an attainable dream due to the unpredictability of Irma, I can still imagine what could happen.  The things I wish I could do with my team, my running family. And as I do so, I write it down with what I consider hurricane party essentials. Vamanos.

  1. Pajamas. If I’m gonna be stranded inside, you bet I’m gonna be comfortable. I wanna bring my onesie and my fuzzy pink Christmas pajamas.
  2. Blanket and pillow. Read: Bae, Baer-Baer, and the warm lavendar blanket that actually keeps warmth in. I wanna be cozy.
  3. Food. I want real junk food. Marshmallows, cookies, fruit roll ups, the works. I wanna have snacks while I watch this storm.
  4. Apples to Apples and Poker. I don’t know exactly all that’s required for a game of poker, but my team loves to play it, so it’s a must-have. And let’s not forget the hours spent dying of laughter while playing Apples to Apples.
  5. Flashlights. I want to be able to see my friends’ faces.
  6. Water, Gatorade, lemonade — really, anything and everything liquid that I like.
  7. A phone to keep worried people updated. Also, to show off how much fun a hurricane can be.

So, I’m done. I think I’ve got a migraine. Time to bed, yes? Si. Wait, I’ve got one more thing. See you soon guys. #journal #typingiseasierthanwriting

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hello anxiety why are you here

It shouldn’t be here. I’ve chosen God and His peace over and over again. Yet, this anxiety is knawing at me, begging me to choose it over peace. Because satan wants to get me down.

First of all, ya know what? I say no in Jesus’ Name! I am a beloved, cherished child of the Most High King, and I am redeemed. I am not defined by my mistakes, fears, or emotions. I am defined by Christ. So I choose Jesus. I choose peace. I choose perfect love.

Tomorrow is speech day.

I’ve talked with my teacher and I’ve prepped pretty well. I’ve narrowed down my visual aids and my topic. I’ve got a pretty good idea of the progression of ideas. But I have this feeling that I’m going to 1) break down 2) numb myself and trigger depression again 3) ramble and fail.

No amount of preparation can prepare you for some things: Death, birth, family reunions, public speaking, etc. But Jesus gets us through it.

I have three other subjects I’m kind of failing in. 1) geometry 2) government 3) chemistry. Why they either have G’s or Y’s, I have no idea. But I know I should be working on homework instead of this blog post. I know I should upload Youtube videos instead of blogging. But honestly, when I consider my true emotions, all I circle back to is, “I don’t care and nobody should.”

Which I hate. Which is at least still an emotion. I’m grateful for emotions. Because not feeling anything is terrifying. Feeling everything is terrifying. Life is terrifying. Except it’s not. Because I choose peace and trust.

I have decided to follow Jesus….

No going back.

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top ten tips for back to school — healthy, scholarly, and more!

  1. don’t stack too much on your plate. start small. leave time for yourself. for other people. it’s important and you’ll function better in the long run.
  2. if you want to create healthy habits, start this school year by packing healthy food. don’t bring the temptations from home. and bring a huge water bottle with you everywhere.
  3. do something fun with your school supplies that will make you smile. even if you’re reusing all your supplies from last year, reinvent them! paint, duct tape, pins, or even just washing your backpack to make it smell super yummy are all great ways to perk up your stash.
  4. don’t forget to journal. it helps keep track of where you are, what you’re going through, and is a great way to express yourself.
  5. play music every day. whether it’s playing an instrument yourself, or listening to some tunes, music is super calming.
  6. every day, before you go to sleep, find three good things about that day or three things that you can think about that make you smile.
  7. organize your room and desk, setting up a place you’ll want to work.
  8. create a schedule to follow. it’ll help keep you from falling behind on assignments or forgetting them.
  9. check out student aids for help in difficult subjects! my favorite right now is Crash Course.
  10. reward yourself. you are a hardcore warrior. you deserve that night out. or in. whatever floats your boat.
Posted in Recorded Resolutions | Leave a comment


so it’s that time of month and I figured, “What better way for me to deal with all the weird and unexpected emotions than by facing old ones head on?”

so. here I am.

My family has attended Church ever since before I was born. I grew up at Church — we stayed late on sundays because my family took care of the recordings, back when we put the sermons on tapes, and a couple days per week my mom would pop by Church to do some work for ladies’ ministry — and attended Small Groups for ever since I can remember.

I also was very small for a long time.

Two memories I typically suppress. One, because I don’t like feeling angry. The other, because I feel ashamed. I’ll be sharing the first story. I’m not quite ready to share the second.

The story takes place at Small Groups. Yeah. Um, so there’s this kid. Let’s call him Jim. He’s a stocky, burly kid and liked to throw his weight around. But his weight wasn’t all he threw around. I vaguely remember being locked in a room with him and my friend, and then he would toss us around. I don’t know if it’s my mind filling in the gaps based on what people have told me or if I actually remember this, but I have this picture in my mind of hitting the wall really hard, then my friend hitting the dresser, and then being shoved into the metal frame of the bunk bed. I know I had bruises, and judging from the anxiety that wells up when I think of it, it really impacted me. More than I’d care to admit. So much so, I apparently have blocked the memory out mostly. Because I hated him for so long. When I saw he had broke his arm one week, I remember feeling happy. “Feel pain on yourself for a change, JIM!” I remember thinking. But then I felt convicted by God. That wasn’t Him. That wasn’t nice. And then, I felt convicted to tell him I hoped his arm got better. I did. I felt kind of happy afterwards. Years later, I was out running. Alone. I met him on the sidewalk. He was actually decent, and acted like nothing had happened. I didn’t remember. I wished him well, and he told me to tell everyone hi.

That’s the last time I’ve seen him. I forgot about the abuse bit — cause it was abuse, now I think about it — until I mentioned to my mom that “while I have hated some people, I am not someone who hates. Like, it’s usually one person and only because they did something that hurt me personally. Although I don’t know why I hated Jim for so long.” and she reminded me he’d thrown me and my friend around. Hurt us. On purpose. And found happiness from it.

This story, I try to keep hidden. Next to nobody knows it. I almost didn’t post it, but then I realized it’s still testimony to God. And it’s on a platform nobody has access to, so if they see it, all glory to God. And if not, praise God for redeeming even me.

When I was eight, my friend — the same friend as before — and I would hang out on Friday nights while our parents did Small Groups. She was rather obsessed with puberty, and why you needed it. I remember we would watch uncensored births, look at pictures to see what we would look like when we were older, talk about periods, and “check out each other’s progress”. I didn’t know it was wrong, but the friend said I should do everything super secretly cause we were ninjas. I didn’t have any problem showing my parents what was happening, but I didn’t want to be a tattletale, and my friend said she’d never trust me again if I tattled.

That should’ve been a warning signal.

Essentially, she got me addicted. We enjoyed having pretend births and all that, except for when I got caught watching it on my mom’s phone. I knew next to nothing about the internet. I didn’t know exiting from the internet wouldn’t delete the history. I was EIGHT and it was a huge leap for people to have internet on their cell phones. Anyways, I was watching a birth video when my eldest brother somehow got the phone, and his reaction was what made me feel like what I was doing was wrong.

“WHO WAS WATCHING A BIRTH?!” Mom looked up, rather scandalized, and I was revealed as the culprit. She asked if I knew it was wrong. In my mind, I went:

Well, I was never told.

But I did feel guilty….

But I didn’t feel guilty until Parker discovered it!

But I did want to hide it….

But my friend said I should!


After a few scary seconds of internalizing I stammered out a no and I got away with a lesson. But I never really stopped. Far after my friend stopped, I continued with videos and (unknowingly) masturbating. And this past year, I started reading some steamy fanfictions. It was my “guilty pleasure” and in the end I hated it and myself for it.

By God’s grace I’m going on one month clean and the times I’d go, “Why not fanfiction?”, I’ve been met with “Gross. No.”

I’m functioning on faith and God. And I thank You Daddy for redeeming me from that. Thank You for never giving up on me. I love You!

A cool fact about this story is that God used my struggle with depression to signal to me that not only was I dishonoring God with my actions, but I was destroying myself in the mind. I realized all I was doing was giving satan an easy blow, and God also brought the Scripture about sexual sins being a sin against your own body to mind. No, I wasn’t a prostitute, but I wasn’t honoring God by keeping His temple — body and mind and soul — pure.

Daddy, help me to honor and glorify You in all I do. Please keep me from continuing in sin, and make me so uncomfortable about it I have to stop. I don’t want to live in sin. Thank You for saving me and redeeming me yet again. I love You! You are the miracle worker. Xoxo, milly


Please note: I do not blame my friend for my sin. I made the choice, albeit wrong choice. However, she is responsible for introducing me to it, and so I do not leave her out. I will leave her nameless for privacy’s sake.

Also: If someone encourages you to hide something from your parents, especially with a threat attached (and yes, saying they’ll never be your friend or trust you again is a threat), it’s probably not supposed to be a secret and it’s healthier to share it with someone you trust. Don’t get caught in the fear I had. Even if you don’t know if it’s right or wrong, if you feel like hiding it from an adult you trust, it’s something that should be shared.

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