Hello, beautiful people,
If you're here, chances are you already know me—but for those who don’t, let me introduce myself and share a bit of my story. My name is Stephanie Specht, and I’m 35 years old. I currently live in southeastern Wisconsin, though I was born in Illinois. Over the years, I’ve lived in Florida, Tennessee, Arkansas, and along the New Mexico/Texas border. No, I wasn’t an army brat—just a kid with a rough start in life. At 12, I left home with my father, a truck driver who was always on the move, and as a result, I never really stayed in one place for too long.
I’ve been married to my best friend for the last 15 years, and together, we have three amazing children. Our daughter, the oldest, will turn 18 in February 2025. Our sons will be 13 and 7 this year. We also have two elderly dogs, Karma and Gunner, and I still mourn the loss of our beloved Cookie, who passed away in April 2024. Our household also includes two cats—Elvira and Manson (named initially after Marilyn Manson, though he’s proven to be more of a Charles Manson). And let’s not forget our 20-gallon fish tank, home to a betta named Chucky and a pleco named Grim.
So why am I here? Why start another project and add even more to my already full plate? Well, to put it simply—I have a lot to say. I’ve been through more in my life than most people experience in a lifetime, and I want others to know they’re not alone. We all struggle with something, and if sharing my story helps even one person, then I’ve done what I set out to do.
Recently, I achieved a personal milestone—I finally earned my high school equivalency diploma. Yes, at 35 years old, I went back and finished my HSED. Why? Because life had other plans for me. I became pregnant at 16 and a mother at 17. My school at the time refused to accommodate my high-risk pregnancy, leaving me with no choice but to drop out. I always told myself I’d go back, but life got in the way—until I finally decided what I wanted to do with my future.
For the past six years, I’ve worked as a Pure Romance consultant, helping women rediscover themselves—intimately, mentally, and emotionally. I’ve taken multiple courses to earn certifications in sexual health education, but I realized I wanted to do more. That’s why I enrolled at UW-Parkside to pursue a psychology degree.
My focus is on sexual health and women’s studies, but I also have a deep passion for mental health and PTSD awareness. I’ve endured immense trauma in my life, and I want to be the support system that my best friend and grandmother never had. More than anything, I want to find ways to prevent suicide.
In November 2017, my husband and I had just moved back to Wisconsin from New Mexico. One of my closest friends, Ryan, had encouraged me to come home for good. I never told him I was moving back—I wanted it to be a surprise. That Friday, I planned to call him and invite him over. But before I could, I received a message that he was missing.
I left voicemails. I sent texts. No response. His family and friends were searching everywhere. For three agonizing days, he was missing. Then, he was found—two hours north of where he lived.
At the time, I had driven two hours north to be with his mother and sister. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how. Something in my gut told me to go, so I got in the car. Within 20 minutes of arriving at his home, there was a knock at the door. Detectives.
I remember staring blankly ahead, unable to cry, scream, or speak. His sister collapsed in my arms, her heart-wrenching sobs echoing through the house. That moment is burned into my memory. I left shortly after to give them space, but I cried the entire way home. I had panic attacks. I thought that was the worst day of my life.
But it wasn’t.
In July 2021, I received a late-night call from my grandmother. That wasn’t unusual—we talked all the time. She was my best friend, my rock. Growing up, she was my safe place between chaotic moves, always supporting me no matter what. She helped me raise my daughter. She and my papa had the kind of love people dream about—dancing in the kitchen, little surprises just to remind each other how much they cared.
Papa passed away in 2010, right in front of me and my daughter. He collapsed in his chair. My husband tried CPR, but there was nothing we could do. He was gone. I had never seen my grandmother so lost. So broken.
Not long after, I moved to New Mexico, and she followed. She spent 10 years without the love of her life.
Eventually, I convinced her to move back to Wisconsin with us. She stayed for a year or two, but the cold became too much. In 2021, she moved to Las Vegas to live with my dad. It was warmer, but she didn’t realize how lonely it would be with him working all the time. The pandemic had hit hard, and she was stuck inside with no way to drive anywhere.
That July night, she called me in tears. She wanted to move back to New Mexico, where she had a friend. I told her that wasn’t possible, but I promised to start looking for an apartment for her near me first thing in the morning. She couldn’t live with me because our home didn’t have a main-floor bathroom, and the stairs were too much for her to handle.
I thought I had calmed her down. I thought she was okay.
I would love to say these were the only hardships I’ve endured in my life, but the truth is, I’ve been through it all—child abuse, neglect, spending my sixth birthday in a homeless shelter, domestic violence, and becoming a single mom at 17. The list goes on.
So, if you’ve made it this far, you might be wondering—what does all of this have to do with anything? Well, this is my story. It’s not a fairy tale. It’s not sunshine and rainbows. It’s messy, painful, and real.
This blog will be a space where I share my thoughts, my struggles, and my passions—especially when it comes to sexual health education. I want this to be a safe space where feelings can be felt, where we can have open conversations, and where no one has to feel alone in their experiences.
Because here’s the thing—by statistics, I shouldn’t be where I am today. I should be struggling, lost, maybe even homeless or addicted to something just to cope. But I refuse to be defined by statistics. Every single day, I fight to build a life I love. I work hard to provide for my husband and children, to grow as a person, and to prove that no matter what life throws at you, you can still rise.
For years, I put my education and career on hold to be fully present for my children. I was a stay-at-home mom because I wanted to make sure they always had someone there. And trust me, I’ve made my fair share of mistakes along the way—because being a mom, a wife, and a human in this world is hard.
But that’s a story for another day...
Love always,
Stephanie Specht