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The Art of Showing Up When You Feel Invisible

It’s one thing to be tired. It’s another thing to feel invisible.

Lately, I’ve been doing everything I know how to do. I’m posting, building, creating, and showing up. Still, it feels like I’m operating just outside the edges of everyone’s attention. I keep doing the work, but none of it quite lands. I keep hoping something will catch. The silence is louder than anything I’ve made.

It’s not about applause. It never really has been. But when you give so much of yourself, including your time, energy, and creativity, and the return is minimal at best, it’s hard not to feel like you’re fading into the background.

When everything feels stuck

I’ve hit a plateau in more ways than one.

The scale won’t move, even though I’ve been putting in the effort. My income hasn’t changed much, despite months of work across two businesses. Mentally, I feel like I’m moving through fog.

There’s also the noise that comes from being surrounded by people with big personalities. The ones who take up space without noticing anyone else in the room. They speak first. They speak loudest. Somehow, they’re always the ones being heard. I’m still here, trying to build something real and steady, but it feels like I’m constantly being overlooked.

It’s draining. Not because I expect the spotlight, but because I’m tired of having to work so hard just to be seen at all.

Still moving

Even with all of this, I haven’t stopped. It’s not because I’m feeling hopeful. It’s just what I do.

I still get up. I still write posts. I still plan bakery menus. I still share tools, create content, and show up for a job that pays the bills, even if it isn’t the one I want forever.

An old advisor once told me to get up, dress up, and show up. It stuck with me, not because it was deep, but because it’s something I can still manage. Even on the days when everything else feels out of reach, I can still do that.

Most days, that has to be enough.

There’s no bow on this

This isn’t the moment where everything changes. There are no breakthroughs here. Just something honest.

I’m tired. I’m working hard. I’m doing what I can. Right now, it doesn’t feel like it’s being met with much in return.

But I’m still here. I’m still creating. I’m still planting seeds, even though I won’t see them bloom for a while.

That isn’t failure. It’s just the part of the process people don’t talk about.

A little borrowed peace

There’s a quote I’ve been holding onto.
“Worrying doesn’t take away tomorrow’s troubles. It takes away today’s peace.”

Peace feels rare lately. I don’t want to keep giving it away just because I’m afraid that my work isn’t paying off fast enough. So I’m trying to let myself rest in the doing. Even when no one claps. Even when the numbers don’t move. Even when the progress is invisible to everyone but me.

What to do when you’re in this place

If this feels familiar, if you’re in a stretch where you’re doing the work and still feel invisible, I hope you’ll pause for a second. Acknowledge how heavy it all feels. Then keep going with whatever’s in front of you.

Here’s what’s been helping me:

  • Keep a done list. Don’t track what you didn’t finish. Track what you did. Let it add up.
  • Turn down the noise. Log out. Mute people. Unfollow accounts. Do what helps you hear yourself again.
  • Make something just for you. Don’t post it. Don’t monetize it. Just make it because it feels good.
  • Finish one small thing. One task. One piece of progress. One win you can hold onto.

You don’t need to feel visible to be valuable. You don’t need to be noticed to be strong. You are allowed to keep building quietly.

And if all you did today was continue, that counts.

xoxo
-S

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The Silence in Room 5

Unraveling the 2007 Murder of Anita Knutson

I usually reserve my true crime posts for Thursdays, but this one needed a minute.

With the trial wrapping up on Wednesday and so much emotion surrounding the verdict, I wanted to take a little more time before putting this together. Anita’s story deserves that.

Also – I really wanted this to get out quickly. So today we are out of order.

The Weekend No One Heard From Her

Anita Knutson’s phone had stopped ringing. Her texts had gone unanswered.

By Monday morning, June 4, 2007, she hadn’t shown up for her shift at the hotel. She hadn’t called her mom back. She wasn’t answering when her dad, Gordon, tried to reach her.

She was 18. A freshman at Minot State University. Living in a basement apartment on 11th Avenue NW. She worked two jobs. She checked in often. She didn’t disappear.

When Gordon drove to the apartment that morning, he brought the building manager and a maintenance worker with him. The door was locked. Everything was still.

They circled the building to the back. That’s when they saw the window screen, torn and thrown into the grass.

Gordon looked through her bedroom window and saw Anita lying on her bed, facedown, with a white bathrobe draped across her back.

She looked like she was sleeping. He reached through the window to wake her up.

Her body was cold.

What Was Missing, and What Wasn’t

Anita had been stabbed twice in the chest.

There were no defensive wounds. No struggle. No sign that she had tried to run. The apartment wasn’t ransacked. Her wallet and cash were still there. Her phone was still plugged in. The only thing missing was her pink iPod.

Whoever had killed her hadn’t broken in. Investigators determined the screen had been cut from the inside. The scene had been staged.

And the only person who shared the apartment with her, the only other person with a key, was nowhere to be found.

The Roommate

Nineteen-year-old Nichole Rice told police she’d spent the weekend at her parents’ farm. She wasn’t home when Anita was killed, she said. She didn’t know anything about it.

But her story shifted. She gave different accounts about how she’d found out. At one point she said she heard it from the news. Then from her boyfriend. Then a mutual friend.

She didn’t seem upset, investigators said. Not shocked. Not confused.

And she already knew about the missing iPod, a detail that had never been released.

Trouble in the Apartment

The girls hadn’t been close. Anita had complained to friends that there was tension. Disagreements about chores, about space, about a boy. Small things, but things that had made her uncomfortable. Her friends and coworkers said she was trying to stick it out, hoping things would settle with time.

Nichole wasn’t arrested. There were no fingerprints. No murder weapon. No security footage.

Anita’s funeral came and went. And the case, like so many others, quietly went cold.

A Second Funeral

It would take less than two years for the Knutson family to bury their second child.

Anita’s younger brother, Daniel, was just sixteen when she died. The grief hit him hard. He became quiet. Then withdrawn. He was close to his sister. She had been his person. And when she was taken, something in him unraveled.

Eighteen months after Anita’s murder, Daniel died by suicide.

There is no way to say that without it sitting heavy in your chest. No way to describe the kind of silence that follows two funerals, two lives lost, and no one held accountable.

The Confessions

In 2008, a man named William May told investigators that Nichole Rice had confessed to him the year before. They had been drinking. He said she told him she had killed her roommate. That it had been eating her alive.

Another woman came forward and said Rice had confessed again. This time in frustration. People were gossiping. She was tired of the rumors. She blurted it out. “I did it,” she said. “I killed her.”

Both reports were made. Neither was followed up at the time in a way that changed the course of the investigation.

Nichole Rice went on with her life. She got married. Took a government job. Stayed in Minot.

And Anita’s room stayed empty.

An Arrest at Last

In 2022, the case was reopened with help from Cold Justice. A cold case detective revisited the timeline, the witness statements, and the missed opportunities. That March, police arrested Nichole Rice and charged her with the murder of Anita Knutson.

At the time of her arrest, she was working on base at Minot Air Force as an administrative assistant.

She was taken into custody quietly, fifteen years after Anita was found facedown in her bed.

The Trial

The trial didn’t begin until March 2025. The venue was moved to Grand Forks due to pretrial publicity.

The prosecution laid out a timeline that had never made sense. They presented the confessions. The inconsistencies. The missing iPod. They pointed out how the window screen had been cut from the inside. They told the jury what Anita’s family had known in their bones since 2007.

The defense argued that the case was built on memory and emotion. That there was no forensic evidence tying Rice to the scene. That she had simply been young, confused, and gossiped about.

After five and a half hours of deliberation, the jury returned a verdict.

Not guilty.

The Silence After the Verdict

Nichole Rice walked out of the courtroom.

There are no other suspects. The case is closed. The silence, once again, settles.

And What We’re Left With

There are cases that feel unclear. This has never been one of them.

From the earliest days of the investigation, something in this story stood out. The coldness. The timeline. The changing explanations. The details that shouldn’t have been known. The pieces that didn’t add up.

What the jury decided doesn’t erase what this family has lost. It doesn’t bring back Anita. It doesn’t bring back Daniel. And it doesn’t answer the questions that have quietly lived in this case since the moment Gordon reached through his daughter’s window and realized she was gone.

It’s not my place to declare guilt. But I can say this. Some verdicts don’t feel like endings.

This one feels like a pause. And a deeply painful one at that.

Because the truth didn’t get to speak that day.

The silence did.

Stay Curious…

xoxo
-S

As an amateur true crime writer, I strive to provide accurate and well-researched information. However, please be aware that I am not a professional investigator or journalist, and my work is based on available sources and my understanding of the case. There may be inaccuracies or incomplete details in my posts. I encourage readers to seek out additional sources and verify information from official and professional channels. Thank you for your understanding and support.

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I Miss Her Sometimes (But I Don’t Want Her Back)

There’s a version of me I miss.
Not in a soft, sentimental way. I’m not scrolling through old photos, sighing over who I used to be. It’s more like an ache that creeps in when the house is too quiet, or the bills are piling up, or I’m halfway through my third mental spiral of the morning.

I miss the girl who didn’t know how tired she would eventually become.
I miss the version of me who woke up without dread. Who thought she had all the time in the world. Who thought things were hard, but had no idea what was coming. I miss her unshakable belief that things were going to work out just because she wanted them to.

She wasn’t naïve. Not entirely. She was smart. Capable. Driven when she needed to be. But she lived like the world still revolved around her, and in some ways, that was beautiful. There was power in it. Her sense of self wasn’t perfect, but it was intact. She had style, momentum, and that kind of direction that doesn’t always come from logic. It came from gut instinct and blind optimism. She didn’t have it all figured out, but she believed she would eventually.

Now, I don’t believe in eventuals. I believe in scraping things together. I believe in bracing for impact. I believe in trying to build something better without any real guarantee that it’ll ever become what I need it to be. And that’s not defeatist. That’s just what happens when you’ve been burned enough to know better.

What she didn’t know, and what I do now, is how quickly time turns into a resource you’re constantly chasing. She had energy to burn and didn’t even notice she was spending it. She made money during a golden hour of opportunity and didn’t understand the privilege in that. She poured herself into relationships, convinced that being everything for everyone would mean she was needed, wanted, safe. She thought if she handled enough, carried enough, gave enough, she would eventually be taken care of too.

I’d give anything to sit that girl down and tell her to stop.
To stop breaking herself into pieces for people who would never offer her the same.
To stop assuming love has to be earned through self-abandonment.
To stop confusing productivity with worth.

I’d tell her to put herself first. Not because it’s empowering or trendy, but because she’s the only constant she’s ever going to have.

She spent so much time chasing someone else’s definition of adulthood. Marriage. Kids. A house. The image of having it all together. She never stopped to question if she actually wanted that life. She thought being responsible meant chasing stability, even if the stability wasn’t hers. Even if it came at the cost of her peace. And once she realized that all those things she was killing herself to create weren’t going to happen, or weren’t going to be enough when they did, there wasn’t some big reckoning or transformation. There was just exhaustion.

The girl I was didn’t have it all. But she had something I don’t. Energy. Belief. Forward motion. She didn’t doubt herself at every turn. She didn’t feel guilty for existing. She didn’t constantly question whether she was doing enough, being enough, or falling behind. She got overwhelmed, sure, but she still thought she could climb out of it.

That’s the part I miss the most.

But here’s the thing. I don’t want her back.

I’ve lost things I can’t get back, but I’ve also walked away from things that were never mine to begin with. Jobs that drained me. Friendships that only survived on my effort. Relationships that blurred the line between love and obligation. I’ve learned that just because something is familiar doesn’t mean it’s worth clinging to. Just because someone wants you doesn’t mean they see you. Just because something looks good on paper doesn’t mean it won’t kill your joy.

I can’t say I feel proud of everything I’ve done since letting her go.
I’m still clawing my way toward a version of life that feels like it fits.
But I do know more now.
I know that the only person responsible for holding me together is me.
I know that stability isn’t something you find. It’s something you build slowly, quietly, without applause.
I know that peace matters more than appearances.

I still miss the mornings when I woke up excited for the day, when my world felt small enough to manage and wide enough to dream. I miss the freedom that came with working from home, having a little land, some chickens, a routine that didn’t leave me feeling depleted. I miss the fire I used to have. I want some of that back, but I want it on my terms this time.

Because I’m not trying to be her again.
I’m trying to take what she had that was good and build something stronger out of it.
Something quieter. Something mine.

This time, I won’t waste it trying to prove my worth.
This time, I’ll invest in myself the way no one else ever did.

She didn’t know yet.
But I do now.
And I’m not going to forget it.

If there’s a version of you that you miss too, one that felt braver, louder, softer, freer, I hope you know she’s not gone. Not really. You don’t have to go back to her. But maybe you can borrow a little of her fire while you build something she never even dreamed of.

You don’t owe anyone a full-circle story. Just keep going.
You’re allowed to miss her and still outgrow her.

xoxo
-S

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Gratitude and the Ghosts I Carry

I’m going through something right now.

It’s not the kind of something you can tie up in a punchline or smooth over with a filtered selfie and a good caption. It’s the kind of something that sits in your throat, too heavy to swallow, too stubborn to spit out. The kind that makes you want to cancel everything and also say yes to anything that might distract you from it. I filmed a video already; I talk more about it there. But I haven’t been ready to let it out in writing until now. Maybe not even now. Maybe this is just the pressure valve hissing open because I’ve been holding it in too long.

This morning I saw an image, just a throwaway post on someone’s story. One of those things you scroll past a hundred times a day. But it stopped me cold:

“No amount of regret changes the past. No amount of anxiety changes the future. But any amount of gratitude changes the present.”

I don’t believe in signs most days. I believe in algorithms, and caffeine dependency, and making the best of what’s rotting in the fridge. But this hit like a reminder I didn’t know I’d asked for. Like someone whispering through the noise, pay attention.

Because regret and anxiety are the monsters I know best. Regret follows me like a shadow. It creeps in after the conversation ends. After the silence stretches too long. After the decision is made. It sounds like, You should have known better. You should have done more. You should have seen this coming. It’s not just about the big moments either. It’s about all the tiny ones. The split seconds where I didn’t speak up. The days I didn’t take care of myself. The years I spent twisting myself into shapes to be more palatable, less much.

Anxiety, on the other hand, is loud. It doesn’t creep. It crashes. It’s that buzz under my skin, that hum in my brain that never quite lets me rest. It’s the panic of not knowing what comes next, and the certainty that it won’t be good. It makes me flinch at the future like it’s a fist about to swing. It whispers about failure and financial ruin and being forgotten. It tells me I’m running out of time. That I’ve already wasted too much.

So between those two, regret dragging behind me and anxiety pulling ahead, I rarely feel like I’m anywhere solid. Just suspended between what I can’t fix and what I can’t control.

And then there’s that last line:
“Any amount of gratitude changes the present.”
And I want to roll my eyes at it. I want to dismiss it like I do most platitudes. But I can’t. Because there’s something true in it, and truth doesn’t need to shout to be real.

Gratitude is quiet. It doesn’t erase anything. It doesn’t overwrite the damage or scrub out the scars. But it does anchor me, even if only for a second. It pulls me out of the loop. It gives me something to touch.
Right now. Not someday. Not what was. But this.

And the truth is, I haven’t been doing a good job of being here lately. I’ve been somewhere else entirely. I’ve been in the hospital room that still haunts me. I’ve been on the couch where I numbed out for months. I’ve been in the mirror, picking myself apart. I’ve been in the future, catastrophizing every possible path, convinced none of them end well.

But gratitude says, stop. Just for a moment.

Look around.
There’s a dog sleeping with her paw over her nose.
There’s hot coffee cooling too fast but still comforting.
There’s your body, still trying, still waking up every morning, even after you’ve cursed it and failed it and apologized to it and cursed it again.
There’s the ridiculous fact that in the middle of everything crumbling, someone still said “I love you” and meant it.
There’s breath. There’s sweat. There’s music.
There’s you. Still here.

And that doesn’t fix it. It doesn’t make the grief go away. It doesn’t make the money show up or the fear disappear or the trauma untangle itself. But it’s something. It’s a rope. And right now, that might be enough.

I don’t have a clean ending for this post. No tidy resolution. No three-step plan.
I’m still deep in it. Still clawing my way toward whatever the next version of me looks like.

But I’m grateful you’re here, reading this.
I’m grateful I have words, even when I don’t want to use them.
I’m grateful for the click of the keyboard and the low hum of the heater and the fact that, despite it all, I haven’t stopped showing up for myself, even in the smallest of ways.

That’s where I’m living right now. In the small. In the barely-there gratitude. In the tiny flickers of light that remind me I’m not done yet.

And maybe that’s the whole point.

xoxo
-S

P.S. – Dare I ask – should I create a shadow work series/workbook? What do you think?

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63 Days to Miss Oil City

The Game Plan for Sophie Atomic

So, here we are. Sixty-three days out from Miss Oil City.
I’ve got my registration in, my lashes on standby, and a whole lot of work to do before I strut across that stage as Sophie Atomic.

This is going to be my official Pinup Prep kickoff, and I’m claiming Mondays right here on the blog to track the chaos, glamour, breakdowns, glow-ups, and everything in between.

I’m not starting from scratch. I’m down about 45 to 50 pounds so far, depending on the day. I’ve been in a plateau for a minute (hi, I see you), but I’ve got my eyes set on shedding another 20 to 30 before showtime. Not because I have to. Because I want to feel like myself, dialed up to 11.

What Needs to Get Done

Let’s be real. Sixty-three days sounds like a lot until you write out the list. So here it is. Everything I need to work on if I want to bring Sophie Atomic to life on that stage.

👗 Outfit Planning
I don’t just want to wear something cute. I want a look. A moment. Something that gives cheeky rebel with a wink of spooky sweetness. If I have time and it makes sense, I may call in my sister for something custom. That might be more realistic for Rock’n’Route Rendezvous later in the year.

✅ Signature outfit, with backup
✅ Proper undergarments that lift, smooth, and let me breathe
✅ Accessories that scream “planned” instead of “panicked”
✅ Shoes I can strut in without dying

💃 Walk Like Shalom
You know the moment. Shalom Harlow gliding like liquid confidence. Every movement intentional. Soft, strong, unforgettable. That’s the energy I want to bring. Not just a walk. A presence.

✅ Daily strut practice, mirror or hallway or kitchen
✅ Record myself once a week to spot what needs work
✅ Channel Sophie in every move. Confident, clever, a little dangerous

🎭 Character Building
Sophie Atomic isn’t just a name. She’s a whole vibe. A cheeky little hellraiser with a pin-up pout and a don’t-mess-with-me sparkle in her eye.

✅ Write a backstory or character bio
✅ Start journaling as her once a week to get in the mindset
✅ Practice embodying her in mirror poses and daily movement

💄 Hair and Makeup Trials
I can’t show up looking like I just rolled out of bed unless it’s in a glam robe and victory rolls. Hair and makeup need to be locked in and able to hold up under nerves, lights, and hopefully a tiara.

✅ Full glam once a week to test and time the process
✅ Pick a go-to lip color and hairstyle that feels like Sophie
✅ Learn from every trial what works, what doesn’t, and what melts off under pressure

📸 Mirror Poses and Photo Practice
Photos are half the game. I want to hit my angles with confidence, not guess and hope for the best.

✅ Practice five to ten go-to poses in the mirror every day
✅ Set up at least two full-glam photo sessions, even if they’re DIY
✅ Study poses from vintage pinups and modern icons. Steal like an artist

📉 Body Goals and Stamina
Like I said, I’m already down 45 to 50 pounds. But this next stretch is about more than the number. I want stamina, glow, and confidence. I want to feel strong when I walk on stage.

✅ Stick to my Virta plan
✅ Keep moving every day, even when I don’t want to
✅ Stretch more. Sleep better. Hydrate like a queen
✅ Cut down on self-trash talk. It doesn’t belong in the dressing room

😁 Smile, Darling
I don’t need a blindingly white Hollywood smile, but I do want to feel confident grinning under those lights.

✅ Add tooth whitening to my nightly routine
✅ Cut back on things that stain. Iced coffee, I still love you
✅ Drink more water. Yes, with a straw

🗓️ My Weekly Breakdown
To keep from losing my mind, I’m giving myself themed focus days.

Monday: Blog post, progress photos, walk practice
Tuesday: Hair or makeup trial
Wednesday: Character development, journaling as Sophie
Thursday: Full glam run-through
Friday: Outfit planning and accessorizing
Weekend: Reset, photo sessions, reflection, rest

That’s the plan. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about showing up, showing out, and reminding myself that I’m allowed to take up space and look damn good doing it.

So here’s to the next 63 days. Sophie Atomic is coming in hot and a little haunted.

Let’s get ready to blow the roof off Oil City.

See you next Monday. 💋

xoxo
-S

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The Blue Light Conspiracy

Did We Sabotage Our Own Sleep?

I woke up in the middle of the night thinking about my mom’s old alarm clock. One of those classic digital ones with bright red numbers—the kind you could read from across the room even if yI woke up in the middle of the night thinking about my mom’s old alarm clock. One of those classic digital ones with bright red numbers, the kind you could read from across the room even if you were half-blind without your glasses. The kind that sat on every nightstand in the ‘80s and ‘90s, glowing like a low ember in the dark. The kind that’s still sitting on hers to this day.

And somewhere between half-asleep and fully awake, I realized something:

Why did we move away from red-lit clocks?

Why is everything blue light now?

And why is it that after all these years of technological advancements, we’re suddenly “rediscovering” that blue light disrupts sleep while red light doesn’t?

Because here’s the thing, red light doesn’t interfere with melatonin production. But blue light? Blue light tells your brain, Hey, it’s noon! Wake up and stay awake forever!

Which means that all those old alarm clocks, with their simple red glow, were actually better for our sleep than the glowing blue numbers we see now.

I don’t think that was intentional. But it sure is ironic.

The Shift to Blue Light: Progress or a Mistake?

At first, the answer seems simple. Blue LEDs are more energy-efficient, and they make screens look crisper. Tech companies loved them because they made everything seem brighter, cooler, and more modern.

Red light? Too warm. Too outdated. Too much like a dim nightlight when people wanted sleek, futuristic aesthetics.

So the world shifted to blue. Phones, TVs, car dashboards, alarm clocks, even streetlights.

And then the research started rolling in, showing that blue light before bed suppresses melatonin, messes with circadian rhythms, and is likely part of the reason we all feel like zombies the next morning.

So now, guess what?

We have night mode settings on our phones. We have “sleep-friendly” alarm clocks marketed as the latest innovation. We have blue-light-blocking glasses and red light therapy lamps.

All to fix the problem that we created in the first place.

We paid to break our sleep, and now we’re paying to fix it. If that’s not capitalism at its finest, I don’t know what is.

The Purple Streetlight Phenomenon

If you’ve seen those eerie purple streetlights popping up in cities, you might’ve heard the theories. Some say they’re for facial recognition. Some say they interact with nanoparticles from vaccines (🙄). Some claim they’re a government experiment to disrupt sleep cycles.

The actual explanation?

A manufacturing defect in the LED coating. These lights were supposed to be white, but the phosphor layer that balances the color is breaking down, exposing the raw blue-violet light underneath.

It’s an accident.

At least, that’s what they say.

But here’s the interesting part: as soon as people started seeing these lights pop up, they immediately assumed there was something deeper going on.

And that brings me to…

Why Do We Love a Good Conspiracy?

There’s a reason conspiracy theories take off, and it’s not just because people like being paranoid. It’s psychological.

People want to feel like they have control.

When things feel unpredictable, the brain looks for patterns, even when there aren’t any.

If something weird happens (like streetlights suddenly turning purple), people don’t assume “Oh, that’s a mistake.” They assume there’s a reason, even if they have to make one up.

Our brains are wired to connect the dots.

Pattern recognition is a survival trait. But sometimes? It works a little too well.

That’s how you get people connecting 5G towers, vaccines, and purple streetlights into one giant plot.

People don’t trust institutions.

And honestly? Can you blame them? Governments and corporations do shady things all the time.

The problem is, this leads to people assuming everything is part of a secret plan, even when the truth is just bad design or poor decision-making.

Fear spreads faster than facts.

Nobody is clicking on an article that says, “Oops! Some streetlights are defective!”

But tell people, “The government is using purple streetlights to track you” and suddenly, everyone is paying attention.

But What If It’s Not Just an Accident?

Here’s the thing. I don’t think blue light was pushed on us as some grand evil scheme. But I do think the people who made these changes didn’t care about the consequences until it was too late.

They weren’t thinking, “Let’s ruin everyone’s sleep so we can sell them a solution later.”

They were thinking, “These blue LEDs are cheaper and look cooler. Let’s go with that.”

But now that we’re all sleep-deprived and overstimulated, they’ve found a way to profit off fixing the problem, by selling us red light therapy, blue light filters, and sleep-friendly bulbs.

Funny how that works.

Full Circle: Were Old Alarm Clocks Onto Something?

Maybe. Or maybe it’s just another example of how we often had things right before someone decided to “improve” them.

I mean, we’re now at a point where tech companies are selling “biohacker-approved” red light alarm clocks for $100. Meanwhile, my mom’s vintage red-clocked relic still works just fine.

So, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll be heading to eBay to get my hands on one before they start marketing them as “cutting-edge sleep optimization devices” for three times the price.

lol… What do you think?

xoxo
-S

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Derby Goals 2025

How to Crush It On and Off the Track

Another derby season is here, which means it’s time to set some goals and actually follow through. Whether you’re trying to level up your blocking, improve your endurance, get more confident on your skates, or just survive another year of full-contact madness, having a clear plan makes all the difference.

The hard part isn’t setting the goals. It’s staying consistent.

So here’s a breakdown of how to follow through, build momentum, and make real progress this season.

Step 1: Get Specific About Your Goals

Saying “I want to get better at blocking” is too vague. What does better look like? Get clear on the details.

Instead, try:

✅ “I want to land strong lateral blocks and control jammers instead of reacting.”
✅ “I’ll practice my plow stops for 15 minutes before every practice until I can stop exactly where I want.”

The more specific you are, the easier it is to track progress and stay motivated.

Step 2: Break Big Goals into Small Wins

A massive goal can feel overwhelming without a step-by-step plan. Breaking it down makes it doable.

🏆 Trying to build endurance? Start by shaving five seconds off your 27-in-5 time.
🏆 Want to master apex jumps? Focus on power drills and controlled landings before going full speed.
🏆 Looking to feel more confident on the track? Try speaking up more at practice, asking for feedback, or adding one new skill per week.

Small wins build momentum. And momentum keeps you moving forward.

Step 3: Keep Yourself Accountable

Most people lose steam because no one is holding them to it. You can fix that.

📌 Find an accountability partner. A teammate who checks in and pushes you when needed.
📌 Track your training. Write down what you worked on, what felt strong, and what needs more time.
📌 Film yourself. Watching playback helps you see what’s actually happening on the track.
📌 Put your goals out there. Post them in your league’s group chat, on a whiteboard, or online.

Make it harder to quit than to keep going.

Step 4: Train Off-Skates (Yes, It Matters)

Only training at practice limits your progress. Strength, mobility, and fuel matter more than people like to admit.

🏋️‍♀️ Strength training builds power and stability.
🧘‍♀️ Mobility work improves your balance and makes you harder to knock down.
🥦 Nutrition and rest affect energy, recovery, and how your body holds up through the season.

You can’t skate your best if your body isn’t ready for it.

Step 5: Be Willing to Adjust

Sometimes the goals you set in January stop making sense by June. That’s not failure. That’s awareness.

Maybe you wanted to jam, but blocking turned out to be your thing. Maybe you planned to play every game, but your knees need a different pace.

Reassess. Rework. Keep showing up.

My Derby Goals for 2025

Here’s what I’m working on this season:

🔥 Stronger lateral blocking. I want to control space and deliver intentional hits instead of reacting on the fly.
🔥 Explosive speed bursts. Endurance is great, but I want to be able to accelerate fast and close gaps quicker.
🔥 Better teamwork and leadership. This sport doesn’t work without trust and communication, and I want to build both.

Your turn. What are your derby goals for 2025? Drop them in the comments or share your favorite tip for sticking with them. Let’s make this season one to be proud of.

xoxo
-S

Posted on

The Shotgun Incident in Sheridan

What It Takes to Leave

Leaving an Abusive Relationship: What Survivors Face After the Escape

Leaving an abusive relationship isn’t just about making a decision. It’s about surviving everything that comes after.

For many survivors, walking away becomes the most dangerous moment of their lives. The abuser has lost control, and that loss can trigger violence. Years of psychological and emotional manipulation often escalate in a final act of retaliation.

For Alina Gaona, that moment came on October 9, 2024.

That night, her estranged husband, Oscar Gaona, showed up at her home in Sheridan, Wyoming. He was armed. He made threats. As Alina tried to flee, he pulled the trigger.

She survived. She got away and called for help. Law enforcement responded quickly and arrested Gaona shortly afterward.

Even with him in custody, the trauma doesn’t vanish. Survivors of attempted homicide carry physical, emotional, and psychological scars that last long after the event.

Oscar Gaona was charged with two counts of aggravated assault. On February 20, 2025, he entered a guilty plea to one count through a deal that recommended a prison sentence of three to five years. His sentencing is scheduled for May 6, 2025.

Domestic Violence in Wyoming: A Silent Emergency

Domestic violence affects every community, but in Wyoming, survivors face unique and life-threatening challenges. Isolation, limited access to resources, and small-town dynamics can trap victims in dangerous situations.

Rural Isolation Delays Help

Wyoming is the least populated state in the U.S. Long stretches of open land and vast rural areas can make help nearly unreachable. Some survivors live hours from the nearest domestic violence shelter, if one exists at all.

Law enforcement officers often cover hundreds of miles, delaying emergency response times. Family and friends may be scattered across the state, leaving victims without a nearby support system.

In many cases, the only safe option is to leave Wyoming entirely, which can feel impossible without financial resources.

Small Communities Create Big Barriers

In small towns, privacy is hard to come by. Survivors often worry that reporting abuse will lead to judgment or disbelief, especially if the abuser holds a respected position in the community.

Law enforcement may know the abuser personally. Judges and prosecutors sometimes lean toward leniency to avoid upsetting local dynamics. These realities create an environment where victims hesitate to come forward.

Guns and Domestic Abuse Are a Deadly Combination

Wyoming ranks among the highest in gun ownership rates nationwide. While most residents use firearms responsibly, studies show that the presence of a gun increases the risk of homicide in domestic violence cases by 500 percent.

In Alina Gaona’s case, a firearm was allegedly used in the assault. Incidents like this highlight the deadly consequences survivors face when leaving.

Why Leaving Triggers Danger

Leaving is not always the safest option. Abusers often become most violent when they feel control slipping away.

Control Turns to Rage

Research shows that survivors are at the highest risk of being murdered after they leave. That loss of power can turn into desperation and explosive violence.

Emotional Conditioning Lingers

Abusers don’t start with physical attacks. They begin with charm, manipulation, and subtle control. Over time, victims are conditioned to question themselves. Even when they know they need to leave, breaking that mental hold takes incredible strength.

Financial Dependence Can Trap Survivors

Many abusers isolate their partners financially. They may forbid employment, drain bank accounts, or ruin credit. Starting over often means starting from nothing.

Children Are Used as Leverage

Abusers often use children to maintain control. They may threaten to take custody or use legal systems to harass the survivor through prolonged court battles.

Fear Is Constant

Survivors live with the fear of retaliation. Police reports and restraining orders do not guarantee safety. When someone has already shown a willingness to harm, every step must be planned for survival.

The Legal System Often Falls Short

Oscar Gaona’s plea deal, recommending three to five years for allegedly shooting at his estranged wife, reflects a broader issue. Outcomes like this are unfortunately common.

Plea bargains are often used in domestic violence cases to avoid retraumatizing the victim or to secure a guaranteed conviction. While this can spare survivors the pain of testifying, it frequently feels like an inadequate response to the trauma inflicted.

A sentence of three to five years may satisfy the court, but the survivor lives with the consequences far longer.

Life After Abuse Requires Support

Leaving is only the first step. Rebuilding takes time, resources, and safety.

Survivors often start over from zero. Some move to new towns, take on new names, and avoid contact with anyone tied to their past. Even then, the emotional weight lingers.

Common Challenges Include:

  • Post-Traumatic Stress and Anxiety
    Panic attacks, hypervigilance, and insomnia often persist.
  • Rebuilding Trust
    Emotional scars can make new relationships and friendships difficult.
  • Legal Entanglements
    Custody battles, stalking, and protection order violations may continue long after separation.

Support Is Available

No one deserves to live in fear. If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, these resources can help:

  • National Domestic Violence Hotline: 800-799-7233 or thehotline.org
  • Wyoming Coalition Against Domestic Violence & Sexual Assault: wyomingdvsa.org
  • SAFE Project (Laramie, WY): 307-742-7273

Survivors deserve more than survival. They deserve peace, justice, and the space to rebuild their lives on their own terms.

xoxo
-S

As an amateur true crime writer, I strive to provide accurate and well-researched information. However, please be aware that I am not a professional investigator or journalist, and my work is based on available sources and my understanding of the case. There may be inaccuracies or incomplete details in my posts. I encourage readers to seek out additional sources and verify information from official and professional channels. Thank you for your understanding and support.

https://cowboystatedaily.com/2024/11/06/wyoming-woman-says-estranged-husband-baited-then-tried-to-kill-her/
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Becoming Sophie Atomic

Why I Stopped Holding Myself Back and Stepped Into Pinup

For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved the world of pinup and rockabilly. The bold styles, the effortless confidence, the timeless silhouettes. I was drawn to it in a way that felt almost instinctual, like I had known in another life that I belonged there.

But I never let myself truly step into it.

I spent years believing I wasn’t enough. Not pretty enough. Not thin enough. Not the right type of person for it. Somewhere along the way, I absorbed the idea that pinup was for a certain kind of woman, and I wasn’t it.

I don’t know exactly where that belief came from. Maybe it was growing up in a world that constantly tells women they need to fit a mold. Maybe it was the echoes of people making fun of me when I was younger for dressing in the style. Maybe it was an ex-boyfriend, years ago, who went out of his way to make me feel less than; an insecurity that lingered far longer than he ever did.

But here’s what I do know: I was wrong.

Every woman is worthy. Every woman has value. And the only thing that had ever kept me from stepping into this world was me.

I turned 40 last December and realized that my life was not what I wanted. It was also not what 15-year-old me had dreamed of. That was a gut punch, but it was also a turning point. I decided that if I wanted something different, I had to stop waiting and go after it.

So I did. And the moment I took that first step, the doors flew open.

How It All Started: Saying Yes to Miss Oil City

The first opportunity came unexpectedly.

Boston Betty, who competes in pinup and works as a photographer, reached out to invite my roller derby team to compete in Miss Oil City, a pinup pageant happening on May 24th in Casper, Wyoming. She was waiving the entry fee for the skaters, giving us a chance to step into something completely new.

I freaked out.

For two hours, I spiraled, going back and forth between I want to do this so badly and I can’t, I’ll make a fool of myself. But then a teammate said six words that changed everything:

“Why don’t you just go for it?”

So I did.

That one choice, the decision to say yes, set off a chain reaction.

From Casper to Arizona: The RockNRoute Rendezvous

After I signed up for Miss Oil City, the universe decided to test just how serious I was about stepping into this new world.

Through the pageant, I was introduced to an incredible woman named Jezebel Jinx, who runs a huge pinup community in Williams, Arizona. She told me she was doing a speed round of applications for RockNRoute Rendezvous, a major pinup competition happening September 13–14, but applications closed the next day.

My stomach dropped.

I wanted to apply. I really wanted to apply. But fear crept in again.

Thankfully, my mom, the absolute rock that she is, pushed me to go for it. And so, I did. Less than 24 hours later, I found out I had been accepted.

In two months, I had gone from doubting whether I even belonged in pinup to competing in two pageants, one of them at a national level.

This wasn’t just something I admired anymore. I was in it.

Finding My Place in the Pinup Community

I expected to feel out of place.

I thought I’d be the odd one out, the woman fumbling through her first steps in a world full of polished professionals. But what I found instead was one of the most supportive, empowering groups of women I’ve ever met.

These aren’t just pretty faces posing for photos. These are real women with real lives, real struggles, and real stories. And yet, no matter what they have going on, they show up for each other. They cheer each other on, hype each other up, and make sure no one feels like they don’t belong.

For so long, I had believed that stepping into this world required perfection. It doesn’t. It requires confidence, authenticity, and the courage to take up space.

Yesterday, for the first time, I felt it click.

As the women around me told me I was beautiful, that they were proud of me for taking a chance on myself, something shifted. I wasn’t an outsider looking in.

I belonged here.

Meet Sophie Atomic

With all of this happening, I knew I needed a name that fit the energy of this transformation.

I love all things Cold War era. The Atomic Age, the mid-century aesthetic, the firecracker energy of it all. It felt right. Sophie is cute, pinup-esque, and keeps the “S” theme that still feels like me.

And so, Sophie Atomic was born.

Sophie Atomic isn’t a character. She’s me without the fear. She’s me at full confidence, at full volume.

The Next Chapter: Miss Oil City, RockNRoute, and My First Magazine Feature

Right now, I’m in full prep mode. I’ve spent hours scrolling Pinterest for outfit ideas, practicing hair and makeup, working on my walk, my poses, my presence.

At first, I thought I had to play it safe. Lean into classic or kitschy pinup because that’s what felt “acceptable.” But the more I grow into this, the more I realize that playing it safe isn’t me.

I’m not just pinup. I’m rockabilly. I’m psychobilly. I’m a little louder, a little edgier, a little rougher around the edges. And that’s exactly the kind of energy I’m bringing to these competitions.

Beyond the pageants, I’m also planning my first magazine feature in Rods N’ Rebels. Jezebel Jinx, who runs the magazine, has welcomed me into her La’Rouge Rebelz troupe and invited me to submit photos whenever I’m ready. She told me she has every faith I’ll fit right in.

That moment, standing there realizing a pinup magazine will be publishing my photos, was surreal.

If You’re Waiting for the Right Time, Stop Waiting

If I’ve learned anything through this journey, it’s this: you don’t need permission to chase the life you want.

I used to think I wasn’t enough. But the truth is, it doesn’t matter what size you are, what you look like, or how much experience you have. You are worthy. You have value.

And if there’s something calling to you, something you’ve always wanted to do but fear has held you back, this is your sign to go for it.

I spent years standing on the sidelines. That ends now.

Follow My Journey + Get Inspired

I’ll be sharing every step of this experience, from competitions to behind-the-scenes looks at my transformation, on:
📌 Pinterest – My pinup inspiration board
📷 Instagram: @LevelUpSaho – Outfits, pageant prep, and photoshoots
📺 YouTube: LevelUpSaho – Vlogs and behind-the-scenes content
📝 Right here on this blog – Deep dives into my journey

This is just the beginning. Let’s make it happen.

xoxo
-S

Posted on

Wyoming’s New Missing Person Protocol Law

A Step Forward in the Fight for the Missing

If If you’ve been following this blog for a while, you know how deeply I care about missing persons cases. I’ve spent countless hours researching, writing, and advocating for those who have vanished, and for the families left behind searching for answers. When I heard that Wyoming passed Senate File 114 (SF 114), a law aimed at standardizing how missing persons cases are handled, I felt something I don’t always get to feel when writing about these cases: hope.

On February 27, 2025, Wyoming took a major step toward improving how it responds to missing persons reports. It might seem like a dry administrative change, but in reality, it’s a lifeline for families who have long been met with confusion and delays when trying to report a loved one missing. In a state known for its vast wilderness and small, spread-out communities, those delays can mean the difference between a safe return and a cold case.

Why This Law Was Needed

For too long, Wyoming lacked a consistent approach to handling missing persons reports. Families trying to file reports often faced unnecessary roadblocks. Some agencies would accept cases right away, while others refused due to outdated policies. Imagine the heartbreak of knowing someone you love is missing and being told that law enforcement won’t even take the report. That was a painful reality for many families, and this law finally addresses it.

Wyoming’s remote landscape adds even more urgency. When someone disappears, it isn’t always about reviewing camera footage or pinging a phone. It’s miles of open land, unpredictable weather, and a race against time. Indigenous communities especially have suffered, seeing loved ones go missing with little to no law enforcement response. The need for change has been clear for far too long.

What the New Law Does

Senate File 114 introduces key safeguards to prevent cases from being ignored or delayed:

  • Mandatory Acceptance of Missing Person Reports
    All law enforcement agencies in Wyoming must now accept any credible missing person report. No refusals. No delay.
  • Time-Sensitive Data Entry
    Once a report is filed, agencies must enter the individual’s information into state and national databases within eight hours. This requirement removes the wait and ensures faster coordination.
  • Clear Jurisdiction Guidelines
    The agency responsible for the case is now clearly defined. If the person’s last known location is confirmed, that jurisdiction takes the lead. If not, it defaults to where the individual last lived. This clarity stops cases from getting bounced between agencies.
  • Centralized Case Management
    The Wyoming Division of Criminal Investigation (DCI) will serve as the central hub for all missing persons records. This ensures consistent documentation and easier communication between departments.
  • Ongoing Oversight for Long-Term Cases
    If someone remains missing after 30 days, the case must be compiled into a full investigative file and submitted to the Attorney General and the DCI. This ensures continued oversight and attention.

What This Means for Families and Law Enforcement

For families, this law is life-changing. They no longer have to fight just to open a case. The burden is no longer on them to navigate a flawed system.

For law enforcement, this removes confusion. It outlines clear responsibilities and creates enforceable steps. Officers now have the structure they need to act quickly and consistently, without inter-agency conflict or interpretation.

A Step Toward a Better Future

This law is part of a growing movement to improve how missing persons cases are handled across the country. Some states have already implemented similar changes, but many still lag behind. While this is a victory for Wyoming, it also signals the beginning of what still needs to be done nationwide.

I’ve covered far too many cases where time was lost due to red tape. I’ve read accounts from families who begged for help and were turned away. Seeing this law pass gives me hope that momentum is building. Maybe, one day, no family will be left to suffer in silence when someone they love goes missing.

To every advocate, lawmaker, family member, and leader who fought for this legislation, thank you. This win belongs to you. And to every person still waiting for answers, please know that your story matters.

If you or someone you know has struggled to file a missing person report in the past, feel free to share your experience in the comments. Your voice deserves to be heard.

xoxo
-S