LIGHTS. CAMERA. LUPUS. · lights. camera. lupus. a life of entertainment through the purple lens by: amanda rupley

LIGHTS. CAMERA. LUPUS.A LIFE OF ENTERTAINMENT

THROUGH THE PURPLE LENSBY: AMANDA RUPLEY

Lights. Camera. Lupus. A Life of Entertainment through the Purple Lens

Copyright © 2014 by Amanda Rupley

All rights reserved. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Editors: Donna Melillo, Christian Pacheco, Kimberly Rooks, Kayte Middleton

Cover Design: Jason Kauffmann / Firelight Interactive / firelightinteractive.com

Interior Design: Kevin Williamson / KevinWilliamsonDesign.com

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Library of Congress Control Number: 2014947084

ISBN 978-0-9904857-2-8

First Edition

With Indigo River Publishing, you can always expect great books, strong voices, and meaningful messages.

Most importantly, you’ll always find . . . words worth reading.

DEDICATIONFor Derek—My Husband:

You have brought so much laughter, joy, and love to my heart.

“Faith is taking the first step, even if you don’t see the whole

staircase.”

—Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

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I’ve lived my whole life in the public eye, but I quietly suffered behind closed doors. I always worked hard to keep both worlds separate. Always smiling, always happy, always very outgoing, and known as a real “go-getter” in public—but withdrawn, sad, in physical pain, constantly crying, and struggling with self-worth in private. I’ve never had the courage to speak out about this . . . until now. This is my story. LIGHTS. CAMERA. LUPUS.

-Amanda Rupley

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PROLOGUE“Her blood pressure was 63/34. They’re saying she almost

died,” I overheard my husband say. “They said if I had gotten her here five minutes later, she would’ve died.”

“What is he saying?” I thought when I came to. “Who is he talking about?” I opened my eyes and saw white—white walls, white bed sheets, white floors. Everything was white. I looked to the left and saw Derek, my husband, sitting in a chair next to me, crying and on the phone. Panic set in as I realized I was in the hospital. For the next three days, I went through test after test, doctor after doctor, nurse after nurse.

It was a classic case of pregnancy dehydration. Or so I thought...

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My wife has been battling Lupus for most of her life, unbeknownst to her.

When I met her and fell in love with her, she had not yet been diagnosed. It was when she was pregnant with our son when we became very familiar of what would later be diagnosed as Lupus.

Since that time, we have learned to ride the roller coaster that is Lupus. We have seen more specialists and doctors and visited more emergency rooms than any family ever should, usually being told she was crazy, a drug addict, or that there was simply nothing wrong.

I wanted to write to you to allow your readers the opportunity to understand that Lupus is a family disease. Although my wife, who is also my best friend, suffers from the chronic condition, we all share in her pain.

How do you tell a child that his/her mom cannot come outside and play because of the sun? How do you explain to your child that “Mommy is still in bed and needs to rest” after four days? What do you say to them when they see you carry her to the car and drive her to the hospital, all while she is crying uncontrollably due to unending pain?

Lupus is an unforgiving disease. It holds my wife hostage without ransom. It waits for family gatherings, vacations, or a date night to unleash its fury, just to remind us it is always present and there is no escape. There are no words to make any of it acceptable.

I HATE LUPUS!!! But never my wife. I do not regret my decision to have a

life with her as my partner or the mother of my children.My wife is my greatest inspiration. Her courage knows no

bounds. No matter how hard she is hit by Lupus, she always fights back. I’ve seen her at her worst, I’ve prayed with her, hoping God would take the pain away. I’ve sat with her when the pain was so excruciating I couldn’t hold her or touch her

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without causing more pain. I’ve learned to wait until she tells me it’s okay and the flare isn’t as bad.

She is always more concerned about my feelings and our children than her own struggle. I cry in private so she won’t take on my stress.

I guess, Amanda, what I am saying is no matter how bad this disease is or what the road ahead entails for us, we will manage it together as a family with love and support, never with anger or regret. We all love you and admire you. Our journey will always be hand-in-hand.

You are my eternal love.Love you now and forever,Your devoted husband

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CHAPTER ONEMy parents were older when they had me. Being the youngest

of the four Brasher children (by eleven years, might I add), I grew up more like an only child since my siblings were already out of the house. You know what they say about the youngest child—I was spoiled. To be clear, “spoiled” doesn’t mean my parents were rich. We weren’t poor, but we definitely weren’t rich. My parents were great at keeping me in ignorant bliss. In my mind, we were rich. I had vacations, Girl Scouts, cheerleading, clothes, opportunities . . . oh, the opportunities I had! Enter acting.

While many kids were attending school or playing tag, I was in acting classes. While other kids were on afterschool soccer teams, I was going to auditions. This was my whole world. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

By the time I was two years old, my parents heard “You should really put her in acting or modeling” so many times that they decided to give it a shot. Kim Dawson Studios was the first place that represented me. At that point, I was very young with no training, so my parents decided to try me in print work. I did quite well. Dillard’s, Sears, JCPenney—they were all becoming part of my credentials for my resume. My parents eventually talked with my agent to see about getting me into the acting scene—after all, I LOVED attention (I

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am Amanda Brasher, you know!), so they thought I had a good chance. After enlisting my newest agent, Peggy Taylor, I landed a really great audition.

My mom says I was wearing a pink frilly dress and that my hair was in pigtails. Though this was one of my first “big” auditions (The room was filled with competition.) she claims I was not the least bit intimidated. The story goes that the directors walked into the room—and lo and behold, here comes little Miss Amanda standing up on a chair in the middle of the room.

“Ahem,” I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, sir? Mr. Director, sir! Over here! Pick me. Pick me! Amanda!” I cried, waving my hands in the air.

My mother received a call from my agent later that afternoon confirming I had landed the role. I love this story because I am the same at thirty years old as I was at three years old. I’m just as determined and passionate today as I was then.

The next few years went by with a ton of amazing oppor-tunities: acting classes, Chuck E. Cheese commercials, lots of print work, voiceovers, and even Whitney Houston’s “Greatest Love of All” music video. The audition room became my second home. It was practically non-stop, and I loved every second of it. The other auditionees became my friends—and some of them my stiff competition. You would see the same circle at most of the auditions. To me, it was a fantastic life of excitement and an excuse to hang out with my friends.

I continued to take acting classes at Dallas TV & Film (now known as Dallas Young Actor’s Studio) under the direction of Linda Seto (a renowned acting coach) and David Joyner (the man who played Barney the purple dinosaur!).

I saw Dallas’s greatest come through those doors and make it big. I loved the life, and the life loved me. However, along with the successes, there were a few disappointments. One involved my personal life.

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It was only a matter of time before the kids at school got wind of my acting opportunities. Though you would think it would make me popular, it actually had the opposite effect. I had a circle of really great friends that I hung out with regularly; however, the majority of the elementary school body picked on me intensely. The typical mean-girl bullying started. They would say things like “She thinks she is so special because she was in a commercial,” or “You think you’re hot stuff because you go on auditions.”

Though I tried to lock a lot of the painful memories away in the “Do Not Remember vault,” there is one that painfully sticks out. I was told, “You’re a stupid blonde girl. You won’t ever be a veterinarian or president. That’s why you’ll only be on TV. Actors are stupid.”

You can imagine how this could affect a young girl’s confi-dence. Another confidence hit happened at a slumber party I was invited to when I was eight years old. I was brushing my hair and found lumps of it coming out into my hairbrush. I panicked and started crying, telling all of the girls I had cancer. The mom of my friend whose house we were at hugged me and told me I was being silly, but I still begged to call my mom.

When my mom answered, I started sobbing and told her I had cancer and my hair was falling out. The other girls who were at the slumber party started to laugh as they heard me panicking. My mom said, “Oh, sweetie, listen to me. I promise you don’t have cancer. I’m sure it’s nothing; but if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll take you to the doctor tomorrow.” I didn’t know at the time that cancer patients’ hair loss is due to the radiation and chemo. I wound up leaving the slumber party early because the other girls kept laughing, and it upset me so badly that I couldn’t bear to stay. I couldn’t wait to get back to my acting classes with my friends.

In school, I was an outgoing girl with little to no confidence at all. At auditions, I was an outgoing girl who had all the

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confidence in the world. I was living in two very different worlds when I was just in elementary school. I wanted both of those worlds to collide; I wanted only one world where it was all okay. I just wanted everyone to like me. A girl can dream, right?

While most little girls dreamt of Barbie dolls and becoming a princess, I was dreaming of elementary normalcy. Until then, I found comfort in the weekly drive to acting classes through Las Colinas with my dad. Passing the beautiful Mus-tang Fountains and stopping for a Slurpee while jamming Jim Croce were some of the very best memories a girl could have with her daddy.

Makeup, curls, and “Mommy Time” were other fantastic perks. Most little girls only dream of wearing their Mom’s makeup—I was actually getting to—and on a regular basis for auditions! When my mom would doll me up, I felt special . . . important . . . confident. In those auditions, I was allowed to embrace my talents without anyone judging. I was me.

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CHAPTER TWOThe opportunities kept flowing, and soon, a really great

one came about. At Dallas TV & Film, an annual showcase was going to take place. It was an event in which Hollywood directors and producers would come to Dallas for the weekend and watch as Dallas’s hopefuls competed and participated in various skits or acting exercises. Everyone took it very seriously, even me at just nine or ten years old.

I worked my tail off practicing and memorizing and rehearsing monologues all around my house and school the week leading up to the event. Finally, it was my turn. Every ounce of hard work and passion went into my performance, and it paid off! I was one of the few elite selected to spend the summer in Hollywood auditioning for major roles. Hollywood. THE Hollywood—as in the big white sign, Walk of Fame, Chinese Theater—THAT Hollywood! Amanda was going to Hollywood! While that may seem like a cheesy Lifetime movie title now, it was the title of my young life. Amanda, meet Hollywood; Hollywood, meet Amanda.

While I was no stranger to Hollywood (I was born just a short way away in Anaheim.) this was my first business trip to Hollywood. Doesn’t that sound weird? A child traveling to Hollywood to work? It seems ostentatious to me now. Nonetheless, it was true, and I was so incredibly excited! My

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parents had split up by this time. My dad was in Kansas, so my mom and I traveled to California for the summer. Instead of flying, we made the twenty-two-hour drive so that we would have a vehicle for the entire stay. I remember the drive being long, but I was so eager to get there that it seemed to go fast for me. We had a great drive. Music, scenery, and mom-and-daughter talk—what more do you need in a road trip?

After two days of driving, we finally made it! As we drove past the Rose Bowl, I realized we were actually in Pasadena. Then, we finally pulled up to the condo where we were staying—in Burbank. This wasn’t Hollywood!

“What? Wait a minute, Mom. We’re supposed to be staying in Hollywood,” I said.

My mom simply smiled and said, “Honey, this is where we’re staying. You’ll have auditions all over the LA area. This is a good location to be in.”

In that moment, I realized this industry wasn’t all the glitz and glamour one fantasizes about. What I didn’t know at the time was how unglamorous and very, very difficult living in the entertainment industry can be. It wasn’t Hollywood signs, red carpets, nice cars, and Glamour Shots. It was Burbank and audition rooms and heartache. It was hard work, endless hopes, and lots of tears. It was my life—and I still loved every moment of it.

The summer flew by quickly with several auditions a week. One that sticks out specifically was an audition at Warner Bros. Studios. The stage next to ours was filming Sister Act 2, and there were a lot of famous people on the lot. The room I was in was full of talent of all ages. As I sat with my mom waiting my turn to audition, we struck up a conversation with the gentleman next to us. He was a charismatic guy whom I found to be very funny. It turns out he was Larry B. Scott from Revenge of the Nerds and The Karate Kid.


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I was always trying to impress anyone at auditions, so I chatted him up for a while. From singing and dancing to cracking my jokes—I pulled out all the tricks! Now looking back, I’m sure I just looked absolutely ridiculous; but none-theless, he was polite and amused me with his attentiveness.

Right before we went in for my time in front of the direc-tors, he told my mom, “I like this girl; she’s gonna be the first female President of the United States. Blonde curls and everything.”

I froze. “What did he just say? Did he really think I could be president? WOW!” I thought. Someone thought I had it in me to go places. Someone believed in me. I mean, of course my parents told me this all the time. But, let’s be honest, parents are supposed to tell you those things. This was a complete stranger, and he thought I could be something! I knew right then there were two things I was one hundred percent sure about. I would strive as hard as I could every day of my life to be successful and to inspire others.


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CHAPTER THREEOnce my teenage years started to sneak up, I began getting

really excited about things other than acting. Cheerleading was a huge interest of mine, so I decided to try it out. As a young girl, I cheered with our local peewee organizations, so I wasn’t all that new to the cheerleading ways.

Seventh grade was coming quick, and middle school cheerleading was my target. I had set my mind on joining that squad, and I was going to practice as much as I needed to make my goal happen. I remember being at the house of my childhood friend Lindsay and practicing all kinds of maneuvers. Lindsay and I had known each other since I was two years old. She lived right down the road from me, and her mom was my mom’s hairdresser. We became great friends and played often. We were always doing cheerleading “stunts” or cartwheels in her backyard and tumbling in her front yard (though the latter was mostly to try and impress the cute boy across the street).

On this day, my mom paged me (Yes, that’s how old I am—I had a pager . . . ) to tell me I had an audition and had to get home quickly so that we could hurry up and get there. In all honesty, I was really bummed. Though I loved acting and had been doing it so long, I was getting to the point where other things were piquing my interest, and I was ready to

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explore! At this age, your friends become pretty important. I didn’t want to leave the fun I was having with one of my best girlfriends to go to an audition—after all, I had cheer tryouts that I needed to prepare for.

Nonetheless, I had a responsibility and commitments that needed to be fulfilled, so I went to the audition. I think this is the first time I can remember that I started to take my focus off my acting career. There were so many things life had to offer, and I wanted to try them all!

As the weeks went by, I found myself hanging out with my friends more and participating in other activities. The more time that passed, the more my desire to be a normal kid increased. I desperately wanted to be able to partici-pate in all of the birthday parties and fun school activities without the worries of an impromptu audition arising. In order for my dream to happen, however, I would have to tell my parents.

My parents had always been very supportive of my acting career. Now that I’m an adult, I realize how hard it was on them and how much they sacrificed to get me to all of my commitments. As a child, I didn’t recognize their gift to me. I felt like they were going to be very disappointed in me if I told them I didn’t want to do acting anymore. So, naturally, I took the easier route and didn’t tell them for a couple of months.

The final push was when I was on a “date” with a boy I liked from school. Now, remember, I was in my early teens (not old enough to drive), so a “date” wasn’t really a date. My mom took this boy and me to the movies, dropped us off, and was going to be picking us up after it was over. This boy was my first real crush. Though I wasn’t making any wedding arrangements yet, I did want to enjoy this experience. I sat and just waited and waited and waited, secretly hoping he would hold my hand.


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Finally, I saw his hand inch closer to mine. Little by little, his hand made its way over until his palm was clasped in mine. My heart was pounding and I was nervous as could be, but I was finally holding hands with my crush! Trumpets were going off in my naïve, adolescent head.

BUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ—my pager started to go off! “What? Are you kidding me?” I thought. I looked down and saw my mom’s number along with “911” on the screen. That meant it was an emergency. I knew this meant only one thing—an audition. I reluctantly leaned over and told my crush that I had to call my mom. He looked completely shocked and almost terrified as if he had done something wrong. “She just paged me,” was all that I could say. I got up and walked to the lobby to use the payphone.

“Hi, Mom, did you page?” I asked.“Yes, honey. I’m so sorry, but you have an audition. It’s

a really good one. I need to come pick you up,” she said.My heart sank. Here I was hitting a milestone in every

young girl’s life. I just had my hand held by my first real crush, and now I had to leave? It seemed so unfair. I knew at that moment that I couldn’t keep this up too much longer. I felt like every normal experience was passing me by. But I didn’t want to hurt my parents by quitting.

On the way home from the audition, I didn’t say a word. I silently looked out the window and ran the conversation I needed to have with my mom through my head . . . “Mom, I don’t want to do acting anymore,” was a thought. “Mom, you know acting takes away from having a boyfriend, right,” was another. No, that definitely wasn’t the way I wanted to start this. Think, Amanda. Speak from your heart. Be truthful.

“Mom,” I said.“Yes,” she replied.“I have something I need to tell you,” I managed.

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“Okay, honey. You can always tell me anything,” she reassured.

I sat quietly, trying to find the courage. I loved my parents so very much and never wanted to disappoint them. Finally, it came out.

“I just want to be a normal kid,” I blurted. “Seriously Amanda? That’s how you want to start this?” I thought to myself. I quickly recovered. “I mean, I don’t want to do auditions anymore. I want to do normal kid stuff like go to the movies or cheerleading. I’m sorry, Mom. I hope you’re not mad at me. It’s just not fun anymore.” I said.

Mom looked at me and said, “Honey, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I just want to be sure that whatever decision you make, it is for sure what you want. We can talk about it more when we get home.”

Really? That’s it? It was that easy? My parents weren’t the slightest bit upset with me. I think any disappointment they might’ve felt was simply because they knew that my heart was really in the entertainment world and that I would miss it. They never let on, however, and were very supportive. As always, they kept me in ignorant bliss.

That evening we discussed extensively my reasoning for giving up acting. “I really want to try out for middle school cheerleading,” I said.

My mom’s face lit up. She smiled and said, “I think that’s a great idea. You can do anything you put your mind to.” That was her motto. My mom taught me at a young age something most kids don’t know. I could do or be anything I wanted as long as I put my mind to it.

I flashed back to that moment in the audition room at Warner Bros. when Larry B. Scott said I could be the first female President of the United States. People believed in me, and I would never let them down! While I didn’t want to be


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president, I did know that I wanted to make a name for myself. Whatever career path I chose, I would give it everything I had. The same would hold true for the cheer tryouts.

The night before tryouts, I ran a few miles, practiced several cheers I had learned from the TV, and did whatever tumbling I was able to pretend to know. I had never had any professional tumbling experience, so while I could do a back handspring, I never actually learned the proper form.

Despite my lack of proper training, the day of tryouts came, and I felt more ready than ever. Upon my arrival, I was shocked to see how many girls would be trying out. My nerves started to turn on.

“What are you thinking, Amanda?” I thought. “This should be natural to you. No nerves allowed. This is the same as an audition; you’re just auditioning for a role as a cheerleader. You can do this.” I reassured myself over and over in my head. “You can do this; you can do this. You can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Number 23!” the coach called out. It was my number—it was my turn. “Here we go.” I entered into the middle school gymnasium to see four judges sitting at a table waiting for me to begin. Ready. Set. Go. I began with a running back handspring, landing it perfectly!

“YES!” I thought. I was shaking so hard, but I knew I had to continue. I proceeded with the cheer we had learned at camp and finished with a very happy “GO TIGERS!” I thanked the judges and walked out of the gymnasium. And that was it—I had given it everything I had, and now, my fate was in the hands of the judges.

A few hours passed, and the results were finally posted on the gymnasium door. My heart was thudding so hard that I couldn’t hear what anyone else was saying. My mom looked at the list . . .

#23 – AMANDA BRASHER

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My name was listed! WOOHOO!! I made it! I was going to cheer on the middle school cheerleading team. My need to become a normal kid was being filled. This would be the most normal two years in middle school that any girl could hope for.

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CHAPTER FOURMiddle school went very quickly, and the two years came

with normal adolescent milestones—becoming a teenager with a thirteenth birthday party, trying to get the cute boy’s attention, hanging out with girlfriends, and spending my days shopping at the mall like any other teenage girl would do, of course.

Before too long, high school was right around the corner. By this time, I had cheered in middle school and loved every second of it, so I decided to try out for high school cheer-leading. I thought middle school tryouts were a big deal—they were nothing compared to how important high school cheerleading was. They even offered a training camp for high school cheerleader hopefuls. It was a two-day training camp on Saturday and Sunday and was meant to teach you some of the cheers that the varsity squad had used in the past. These cheers were so much harder than the cheers we had been doing in middle school. Nevertheless, I practiced as hard as I could and paid close attention. After the camp, I found I was abnormally exhausted. I became very fatigued—more so than I normally felt after cheerleading. In fact, I was so fatigued after the second day that I crashed around 6:00 p.m. and slept until the next morning. At the time, I chalked it up

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to stereotypical teenage slumber and went about my week, prepping for tryouts.

The week flew by, and tryouts were here. After prepping and practicing, I gave it everything I had. I entered the gym and began with the best round-off-back-handspring-back-tuck that I had ever done before. Once I completed my cheer, I walked away with full satisfaction. I was thrilled with how well I did, and I just knew I would be making that squad. I waited patiently and quietly in the cafeteria while my competitors completed their auditions.

Two hours went by, and finally, auditions were complete. The judges had gone into deliberation, and the 1996-1997 freshman cheer squad would soon be announced. The results were posted on the gym doors. After searching and searching, my name was nowhere to be found. This couldn’t be right—surely there was a mistake! How could I have not made the cheerleading squad? My tumbling was better than ever! I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. “Don’t let them see you be weak,” I thought. I plastered on a smile, turned and looked at my mom, and simply shook my head no.

The look on my mom’s face was sheer shock. She couldn’t believe it either. To be honest, the next few minutes were a complete blur, but I remember snapping out of it when a few of my middle school cheer mates came running out screeching, “I MADE IT, I MADE IT!” and jumping up and down. At that moment, the tears started streaming down my face. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. My heart was broken, and my whole body went numb. I know what you’re thinking as you’re reading this. Why would someone get so upset over cheerleading, right? I have a simple answer:

We lived in Texas—cheerleading is practically a religion there. (Have you ever seen that Lifetime movie—Willing to Kill: The Texas Cheerleader Story? We took our sport seriously.)


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This was the first real interest I had other than acting. This was a new passion, and I dove headfirst into it. I practiced harder for those tryouts than I had ever done for anything else in my life. I wanted it more than anything.

My mom, being the always super-supportive parent, quickly hugged me and walked me back to the car—away from all of the happy screams of my former teammates. She knew I couldn’t be there. I hugged each one of them and congratulated them, but I couldn’t celebrate with them when I was hurting so badly inside. I just needed to be alone. And being alone became something I was quite good at.


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CHAPTER FIVENot making the high school cheerleading squad did a lot

more damage than one could’ve thought. Of course, being a rebellious teenager, I thought everything was all my parents’ fault. It’s only now that I realize it was really my fault and the result of some much deeper issues.

My whole world was crumbling around me, and I was too much of a hard-headed teenager to even see the signs and snap out of it. I started making really bad choices and was changing into a different version of Amanda. I found new friends who didn’t get along with my old best friends. My old friends didn’t like the new ones at all. I was on a self-destructive path for the next seven months or so.

The end of my freshman year was when things really started to dwindle. I met a group of friends that I began to hang out with frequently. My mom wasn’t fond of them and often gave me a hard time when I wanted to go do things. She would always ask, “Who are you going with?” When I would list any of these friends, her answer was typically no. On the rare occasion that she agreed, I had heavy restrictions put into place. This made me resentful toward my mom (Remember, I was a teenager who felt like my parents were just stupid and didn’t know anything about life.) so I started skipping school every now and then to get even. As a mom, I shudder

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to think that I would’ve ever done that to my parents. My grades started to suffer, and I began acting very disrespectful toward my family.

My mom worked a lot to provide for the two of us, so I took advantage of the overabundance of alone time I could get at home. Before too long, I was skipping school and bringing friends to my house while she was at work. As a teenager, I thought I was so smart and that I was getting away with it.

Turns out, she knew every time, and it broke her heart. She tried everything to get through to me: grounding (or as she called it, “placing me on restriction”), counseling, extra-curricular activities, family time plans, even calling the police to have an officer come and speak to me. Nothing worked. The harder she tried, the harder I wanted to rebel. I felt like she didn’t know me at all. She, on the other hand, felt incredibly defeated. I have a memory that still breaks my heart today. I had come home from hanging out with friends and went in to say goodnight to my mom. I walked in her room and noticed that her bathroom light was on but her door was shut. I could hear her crying. She was praying to God to give her the answers to help her daughter. She was crushed and heartbroken, and I was the one to blame for her being in that state. I was doing this to her. And, I was doing this to myself.

One day, while hanging out with these friends, I met an older teenager. (We’ll refer to him as “Joe” for the purpose of this book.) Joe was nineteen. I was fourteen. I thought I acted much older than fourteen, so I had reason to be hanging out with older “friends.” Joe and I began to spend a lot of time together. One day, I went to hang out with some of our mutual friends at his apartment. I had absolutely no business being there at the age of fourteen. Trust me. As soon as you go to a place like that, you’re opening yourself to dangerous situations. Sadly, this was the case in my story. I lost my


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innocence, unwillingly, that day. Even now, fifteen years later, my heart is pounding as I write this. My hands are trembling, and I’m fighting to not let the tears stream down my cheeks. This is the first time that I’ve publicly admitted this incident to or discussed it with anyone other than my husband.

Many people who have loved me along the way have tried approaching this subject and getting me to speak about it. I’ve always shut down at the thought of it. This wall has been built around me, and I never let anyone in, including my mother.

Being a great mom, my mother knew something was off. She asked me several months later if I’d had sex yet, and I couldn’t lie to her. When I told her who it was and when, she knew in her heart how it went down. My poor mom tried too many times to count to get me to talk, and my response was always, “It never happened like that.” I have carried an overwhelming amount of shame with me for the last fifteen years of my life from this one incident. This made me realize that the things we go through in life ultimately do affect us all along the way. Having my heart broken by not making the cheerleading squad started a tumultuous downward spiral. Having my innocence robbed from me instilled more depression, low self-worth, hate, hurt, and pain than I could ever express. But if you don’t let these things out, they will consume you and lead you down a very dark, scary path.

Looking back, I’m so thankful that God put a light in my life that lightened my dark path and helped me turn my life around—my husband! But once again, I’m getting ahead of myself.


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CHAPTER SIXEventually, I decided I needed to get my life back on

track. After some time passed since the incident with Joe, I met a high school boyfriend whom I dated for about two years. I got my first car, a Mazda Miata, and a job at a local restaurant where I worked throughout high school. I began improving my attitude and hanging out with better friends I met through my boyfriend. I was nowhere close to where I should’ve been; I was still making bad choices, but I was trying to make things better.

A while after graduating from high school, I decided I really missed being in entertainment, so I reached out to my contacts. It turned out that one of them was casting for a reality show for MTV and asked if I’d help to recruit for it in the Dallas area. I did this on the side along with my day job for several years. I worked hard and gave both jobs all that I had. Things were looking up, and I was in a really great place. Little did I know that things could get even better.

A few years later, I met my husband, Derek. When we first saw each other, I didn’t look at him and think “Wow, I’m going to marry this guy!” We were only supposed to be friends looking for other friends with whom to play the occasional game of pool or catch a hockey game. Six years ago, neither one of us knew we would be where we are now.

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At that point in my life, I was a very successful single lady living in a condo in North Dallas and had a rewarding career. I was twenty-three years old, I had an upper-level career at a very large international hospitality company, and life was good. I had been struggling with some ovarian cysts and endometriosis that had landed me in the hospital for some minor surgeries; but other than that, life was going really well.

When I met Derek, I absolutely was not looking for any-thing—nor was he. He had been married previously and had a daughter who was two years old at the time. I had always promised myself that I would never have a relationship with anyone who had children from a previous relationship. I thought it would be too difficult and would cause major strain on the new relationship. I also didn’t want to overstep boundaries and accidentally cause a situation. So, knowing that Derek had not only been previously married, but also had a daughter from that marriage, I definitely had no intentions of taking our friendship anywhere.

On a particular day in March, we had plans to hang out for the first time. We had never met previously, as we were set up by a mutual friend. We spent a few days emailing back and forth and finally decided to meet up. Derek told me that there was rain in the forecast. Since his truck was in the shop and he didn’t think he could ride his motorcycle, he wanted to know if I’d come pick him up. Since I didn’t know his area at all and it would be raining, I asked Derek if he would drive my car. (I know what you’re thinking—“Oh My Gosh! What were you thinking?” Trust me. I feel the same way looking back now.)

On my way to Derek’s house, I started thinking: “This guy probably doesn’t even have a car!”

I pulled up to a nice home and saw a handsome guy standing on the front porch. As I got out of the car and approached, he


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stuck his arm out and shook my hand saying, “Hi, I’m Derek. It’s nice to meet you.” Then came the awkward silence. “Do you want to come in for a minute?”

“Um, sure I guess,” I replied. I followed him in to the home and began scanning his house with my eyes for pictures. “This guy is probably married, and his wife is going to come home any minute,” I thought. “He probably doesn’t even own this house. He’s probably staying with a roommate,” was another thought. When the only pictures I saw were of his daughter, it quickly put any worries of my previous thoughts to rest.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked.“Sure,” I replied as I handed him my car keys.We started the drive down Highway 121. This particular

section had not been lit up yet, so it was literally pitch black everywhere, fields lining each side of the road, and raining heavily. “Where in the world is he taking me? Is he going to dump my body somewhere?” I began to think. As he was driving, my better judgment started setting in, so I discreetly texted my two sisters to let them know where I would be and to check on me in thirty minutes.

Just as I was finishing the text message, Derek broke the awkward silence. “I have to ask—how many times have you done this?”

“Never. This is my first time,” I said.“Oh, thank God! Mine too! How awkward is this?” he said.I laughed. “So awkward, right?”Right then, we started to approach civilization. Derek

pulled my car to the front of the mall and dropped me off so I wouldn’t have to walk in the rain. He was such a gentleman from the very first moment. As he was parking the car, my sister called. “You okay?” she asked.

I could see Derek walking toward the mall entrance where I was waiting. “Yes, I’m good . . . and he’s hot! But I gotta go; he’s heading this way.” I quickly hung up.

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“The movie doesn’t start for another hour. Do you want to grab a drink?” Derek asked.

I agreed, so we walked to the Dave & Busters across from the movie theater. As he started to ask the waitress for a table, I interrupted with “Can we sit at the bar? There’s a hockey game on.” He looked shocked but agreed. I ordered a Bud Light, and Derek ordered an Amaretto Sour. When the drinks came, the bartender placed the Amaretto Sour in front of me and the beer in front of Derek. That was the first laugh we shared. We spent the next hour chatting it up and then we headed to the movie.

I was unusually tired and noticed my fingers were swelling, but it wasn’t uncommon during this type of weather, so off to the theater we went. We chose to watch Sandra Bullock’s Premonition. As the previews came on, one came up for Zodiac, a highly anticipated movie that was to be released that summer. I leaned over and whispered to Derek, “Did you know that’s based on a true story?”

I wish I could’ve had a camera to capture the look on his face. “You think?” he said. “I was alive when that happened.” He laughed. “Did you know that the movie Titanic was based on a true story too? How about Glory? That one was true too,” he continued. We both laughed. This date set the mood for our entire relationship. We are both complete and utter smartasses who have centered our home on laughter. He is the one person who can change my whole day with one comment. No matter how upset I get, he knows how to make me laugh.

We spent the next six weeks virtually inseparable. We spent each day together. This was very different from anything that I had ever known. I had a few serious relationships over the years, but I always very much enjoyed my “me time.” I hated feeling smothered and definitely liked having my space. For me to want to spend every moment with a guy that I


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barely knew—and to have such strong feelings so fast—was absolutely not anything I was expecting.

Just six weeks after meeting each other, Derek took me to a cabin in Oklahoma for a weekend getaway. We sat on this gorgeous wrap-around porch, hand in hand, and listened to the rain.

There is no moment in my life in which I felt more at peace than at that moment. Sitting on that porch, I quietly thanked God for guiding me out of my dark days and bringing me to this amazing place. I felt very blessed. At that moment, Derek dropped to one knee. In the pitch-black darkness, with the rain falling all around us, he began:

“Amanda, before I met you, I was in a really dark place,” he said. “For the last six weeks, I’ve been in a much better place than I have ever been—because of you. I want to spend every day of my life feeling this way with you. Will you marry me?”

“Wait, what?!” I laughed. “Are you serious?”“Yes, I’m serious,” he said.Because it was pitch black in the woods around us, I couldn’t

see that he was holding up the most gorgeous 1.5 carat diamond ring. He had designed this ring himself and was quite proud of it. “Seriously—are you serious or are you kidding?” I kept repeating. I felt him slide the ring on my finger. This is real!

“YES!” I said.I knew right then and there that it was meant to be. He

had said almost word for word in his proposal what I said to God in my silent prayers just moments before. I grabbed him, and we held each other on that porch, while listening to the rain storm, in complete and utter peace. That was our moment, and no one was there to ruin it. After knowing each other for only six weeks, we were engaged to be married.


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CHAPTER SEVENThe summer of 2007 was one of the best summers ever.

I grew up traveling extensively, so it was really nice when Derek and I decided to take our first trip together. We went to San Diego for the Fourth of July. My dad and his side of the family lived there, so this would be Derek’s first time meeting them. My sisters, of course, had already fallen in love with him through pictures and phone calls, but my dad was still on the fence. See, Derek didn’t quite ask him formally for his blessing in asking me to marry him. In fact, it pretty much went like this: He and I attended a Dallas Stars game on Easter 2007 (This was a frequent outing for us.) and on the way home, I made my weekly call to say hello to my dad. In the background, Derek yelled, “Mr. Brasher, I love your daughter. Can I marry her?” Mind you, this was two weeks after we met.

My dad’s response was “What? What is he talking about? Tell him he had better be joking, or he might meet my shotgun.”

I thought it was all in good fun and had no idea that Derek was really actually serious, so I laughed it off with “Oh, Daddy, he’s just teasing. Trust me, we aren’t getting married.” Fast-forward four weeks, and we were engaged.

You can imagine how not-so-happy my dad was upon my announcement of our engagement. Regardless, we were heading

Amanda Rupley

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out to see the family, and Derek would have to face my dad. Derek was so amazing to me and made me so genuinely happy that I knew if my dad wasn’t thrilled with him now, he would eventually come around. I was right. Within a few hours of being around Derek, my dad was stuck like glue. Dad was so thrilled to see how truly happy I was, and he saw what I saw in Derek. As he always puts it, “I didn’t want to like the guy, but I kept thinking to myself—damn! I really like him!”

The San Diego vacation went off without a hitch, and we were soon prepping to get back in the swing of things for the fall. I’d always had bad days where my health felt somewhat off, but by early August 2007, I was feeling much worse than normal. Chronic fatigue, nausea, and abdominal pain started consuming my days, so I promptly called my OBGYN to schedule an appointment. I was certain I was having another ovarian attack and was concerned another surgery was in my near future. At this point, I had switched to a new job in the hospitality company and was still under the probationary period, so my insurance was not effective yet.

When my doctor called me back, she said they would need to do various tests, as usual, but since I didn’t currently have insurance, she said I could do some of them from home to save money. One of the tests to be done was a pregnancy test. I laughed and said, “Well, that’s definitely not a problem since I’m on birth control and my ovaries weren’t meant to produce a pregnancy.” (I had suffered a miscarriage in earlier years with a long-term ex-boyfriend of mine.) She laughed and said, “That’s true, so just take it so I can notate the negative result in your chart.”

“No problem,” I thought. During my lunch hour, I went over to the dollar store and bought a cheapie pregnancy test—after all, why would I waste twenty dollars or more on a pregnancy test that I knew would come back negative? My co-worker had stopped at the Target across from the dollar store, so


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as I completed my purchase, I headed over there to use the restroom.

POSITIVE?! “What?! There’s no way! This stupid dollar store test must be a dud,” I thought. I walked to the Target pharmacy section and bought an EPT pregnancy test. It too came back positive. “This isn’t right. I’ve got to take another,” I told my co-worker. I went back to the pharmacy and proceeded to purchase another hundred dollars’ worth of various pregnancy tests. Thirty minutes later, and all tests taken, I sat on the floor of the Target bathroom, sobbing and in complete, fearful disbelief. I was pregnant.


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CHAPTER EIGHTDerek and I had planned on having our wedding in the

spring of 2008, but when I found out I was pregnant, those plans changed. We all know that pregnancy makes you gain a lot of weight, and most pregnant women have a huge complex about “being fat” that can be obscenely irrational. This held true to my pregnancy as well. You see, white isn’t the most flattering of colors. I decided I didn’t want to look like a mule on my wedding day, so I told Derek I wanted to wait until after giving birth to get married. He was always very supportive of whatever decisions I made, so he was okay with the idea.

After several weeks of “wishy-washy” pregnancy hormones and constant mind changes, I decided that I didn’t want our baby to be born out of wedlock. I always wanted the baby to know that it was born out of love, so Derek and I decided to have a small, intimate ceremony with the closest members of our families. We planned that we could have a big wedding celebration on our one-year wedding anniversary after my pre-pregnancy body was back. Our wedding date was November 3, 2007. My dad flew in from California, and we enlisted our two best friends to serve as the maid of honor and the best man. We didn’t have any other wedding party except for our friend, Clint, who had gotten ordained so he could perform

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LIGHTS. CAMERA. LUPUS. · lights. camera. lupus. a life of entertainment through the purple lens by: amanda rupley