About Me

Welcome to the Wild Side of the Plains!

(Yeah, the side where the wind howls and the women don’t whisper)

Hey, trouble. I’m Kristina. 29. Mama to three feral little legends. Future lawyer who still double-checks the locks three times. ADHD-fueled tornado. True-crime junkie who can recite autopsy reports but forgets where she parked her car. And for the last 19 years, I’ve been at war with my own brain.

Since I was 10 years old, depression, anxiety, and PTSD have lived rent-free in my head. We’re talking can’t-get-out-of-bed, heart-pounding-at-3-a.m., convinced-everyone-hates-me, flashbacks-that-steal-my-breath kind of war. I’ve been medicated, unmedicated, therapied, misdiagnosed, gaslit, and told to “just pray harder” or “try yoga.” I’ve canceled plans, cried in grocery store bathrooms, and smiled in photos while quietly disintegrating.

But here’s the plot twist nobody saw coming (especially not me):

I didn’t just survive that shit. I’m finally strong enough to drag it into the light, look it dead in the eye, and use it.

Those scars? They’re evidence.

Those panic attacks? They taught me how to breathe when the world is ending.

Those years I wanted to disappear? They’re the exact reason I now refuse to shrink.

This blog — Prairie Rebel — is where the masks come off.
It’s where I talk about deadlifts and dead bodies in the same breath.
Where I’ll post a sweaty gym selfie and then tell you how I learned to outrun suicidal thoughts at 2 a.m. Where I’ll share stories about the funny and downright embarrassing moments that I can't help but laugh at, then drop the raw truth about what complex PTSD actually feels like when it’s triggered by a smell, a sound, a song. You’ll see the workouts and other things I have tried over the years that saved my life when pills couldn’t. You’ll watch a mom of three build a brand, a body, and a future—one shaky rep, one therapy breakthrough, one “I’m still here” at a time.

This isn’t inspiration porn.

This is what winning looks like when you started the race with broken legs and a blindfold. If you’ve ever:

Felt like depression taped weights to your soul
Had anxiety scream so loud you couldn’t hear your own thoughts
Carried trauma that nobody sees but you feel in your bones
Thought you were too fucked up to amount to anything
Looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the fighter staring back…

Pull up a chair, rebel.
You just found your people. I’m turning my mess into medicine, my pain into paychecks, my trauma into testimony.
And if my story keeps even one person from giving up tonight—if it reminds you that the storm doesn’t get the final say—then every tear I cried was worth it.

So welcome to the wild side of the plains.

It’s loud, unfiltered, sweaty, messy, hilarious, heartbreaking, and unapologetically alive. Buckle up, beautiful.

The comeback is just getting started… and you’re riding shotgun.