I was living in a town that was fairly new to me and my closest friends were scattered all across the country. Because “tribe” is not something you can add to a baby registry, there would be no random food deliveries or demanded showers. I was still on the outside looking into motherhood and I didn’t get it, but I knew I didn’t get it. And I was worried.

Some days, I’m grateful for the privilege of a full-time job with set hours and sick time. Some days, I deal with the coffee maker at work and consider taking a lighter to my diplomas. It’s hard.

In 2012 I took the leap, and moved from California to Costa Rica. Yet living in this paradise on earth, I have been forced time and again to face the fact that we live in an imperfect world, and to find ways to come to terms with this in order to live a more sanguine life.

Hi. My name is Melissa, and I am a survivor of rape.
Hi again. My name is Melissa, and I am a survivor of a suicide attempt.
Hi. Still me. Still Melissa. And I am a survivor of postpartum depression.

Now, maybe you hear that and think I've been dealt a crap hand in life, but I'd argue just the opposite. I live a damn good, love-filled life, and through those experiences I've learned exactly who I am.

I dove head first into conventional medicine with a warrior mentality of trying to conquer cancer and was completely unprepared for the number of things that could go wrong.

Nobody likes grief and nobody wants to witness a tragedy. Especially not one we fully understand – like miscarriage. But given the statistics – one in 4 pregnancies ends in miscarriage ­– we all know someone who has been through, or will go through, this heart-wrenching loss.

When do I get to tell aloud the story of the boy in college, the friend, the classmate who I invited back to my dorm? The one who I kissed excitedly. The one who slid my pants off.

The one who smiled when I said, No, don’t. I don’t want to.

I am gasping for air. Desperately searching, my hands move quickly, fumbling through the sheets. There is a hollow feeling in my chest, a sinking in the pit of my stomach. Hot tears are streaming down my face, the bitter taste of salt. Panicked pleas for help ring in my ears: it is my own voice, though it sounds frightened, foreign. I believe my son is here in my bed: I must still be breastfeeding, I must have rolled over on him. I frantically search for his lifeless body. I imagine blue limp skin.

So, let me ask you: How would your life look like if you could create it the way that you want? You are in charge. You can create your life to your wildest dreams or your worst nightmare, you choose.

When we think of taboo topics we often think sex, abortion, and religion. However, we often forget that the matters of the mind can also fall into this category. Mental health has been stigmatized time and time again and it is about time we made a change.

I have a toxic relationship with my father. I didn't really know how to start this post so I figured I might as well just start with something honest. Something real. And at the age of almost 37, I still find it hard to say those words out loud.

The opportunity for change, whether in body or mind, is not always apparent. For me, this lesson begins with a classic story involving New Year’s Eve, a group of friends, and an unbelievable diet and workout plan. New Year’s Resolutions have never been something I have emphasized in my life. Work out goals and their results have never stuck around for me. After being disillusioned with the many diets and workout plans I had already attempted, I was ready to let go and dive in without expectation (as if it would be that simple). My physical transformation would catalyze a deeper journey of self-discovery.

Stepping onto the path, breathing deep, and feeling the rush of soil, green, and bark. Nature is our greatest teacher. Personally, I find myself connecting with Nature on a deeper level each time I enter a forest, more than any other ecosystem. I grew up traipsing through the forests of Western Pennsylvania, surrounded by oaks and hemlocks. Since then, I found myself living in different parts of the country. Each time, I find a forest.

Piano had been my thing since I was seven, when I’d come home to a second-hand upright in the living room and a stack of pink lesson books in the bench. In high school, I practiced for hours instead of hanging out with friends or trying out for the school musical. Occasionally, my mom let me call in sick to school so I could hammer out an hour of technique followed by two or three hours of polishing pieces for competitions. How could I major in anything else?

As part of my work, I write about the art of speaking gracefully and whether we should speak up or stay silent when it comes to online bullying. Now I’d like to take the discussion on language further -- to explore how words and phrases have the power to heal or harm when it comes to gender stereotypes.

I realized that strong women aren’t born. They are made. But when I think of what it takes to have the kind of tenacity and resilience that makes us strong, I think of overcoming failure, heartbreak, and trauma. All of my favorite women of history have their moments where they overcame adversity to find their strength. It’s the classic hero storyline.

I was raised almost entirely alone for the whole of my childhood. I don’t just mean that as in I was a loner or kept to myself; I was raised on eight acres of land with little to no exposure to the world. Due to the teachings of the cult my mother was a member of, I was never educated. I taught myself to read, and learned all my basic writing skills on the internet. In the time between, I played alone in the woods. Whenever I did attempt to interact with kids my own age (usually by going to the town pool) I was teased mercilessly for my lack of common knowledge

As children we are taught how to solve algebraic equations and chemical formulas, yet we are never taught how to love, be kind and how to survive life.It is our duty to teach others, no matter their age or gender, how to embrace difficult situations and become a stronger person because of it. Often the most valuable lessons we learn are not easily taught in a classroom, they are learnt through experience and mistakes and through others.

I have a confession to make. I’m a has-been “beauty queen”. I never considered myself one, though. After all, beauty queens are tall with flawless skin, legs a mile long, gigantic smiles, and perfect speaking skills. I always felt like I had none of those attributes. I’ve even had people act surprised when they find out that I competed in pageants. 

After trying for two years to get pregnant and having no luck, I wasn’t expecting anything but a big, fat negative when I tested the morning before heading down state to celebrate my birthday. I wanted to test “just in case” since I had a feeling a beautiful, blue bottle of Riesling would be in my very near future. And then, with an empty uterus, I would uncork the last year of my twenties, having high hopes for the next year in which we’d hopefully end up pregnant before thirty.