The Cycle

“I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it.”
— Carrie Bradshaw, Sex and the City

Growth is inevitable—or at least, it should be. I’ve never been the kind of person who’s okay with staying stagnant. I want to keep learning—about the world, about life, about myself.

I know I’m not perfect. None of us are. We’re all walking definitions of the choices we’ve made—or the ones we never realized we were making. Some people don’t even know how they ended up where they are.

I remember back in college, my roommate—who was also a friend at the time—was doing a research study on Puerto Ricans and their role in society. Her focus was on Chicago, and specifically the "cycle of poverty." The idea was that Puerto Ricans, as U.S. citizens eligible for government benefits like welfare, were often trapped in low-income neighborhoods, surviving but not necessarily striving. That environment, passed from generation to generation, became their normal. And so, the cycle continued.

Sure, there are always exceptions—but that’s the thing. They’re exceptions, not the rule.

That concept stuck with me. It explained a lot about why people operate the way they do: sometimes, they just haven’t been shown another way.

I’ve always been a student of people. I watch behaviors. I analyze reactions. I’m curious about why people say the things they say and do the things they do. That curiosity served me in dating… until I actually liked someone and got frustrated when they didn’t see the potential I saw. The potential for something great.

Thankfully, God had a plan. And in walked the Comedian. I am forever grateful for that.

I didn’t learn everything I needed from my parents. They gave me a foundation—how to be kind, how to care about people’s feelings—but they didn’t teach me about money, love, or how to handle sketchy people. My mom was never into makeup or fashion. She’s a peaceful, reserved woman. I, on the other hand, came out like a thunderbolt—loud, animated, ready to light up the next social gathering.

She has silky straight hair. I was born with wild, curly locks. People still call me Shakira. I had to teach myself everything—from how to blow dry my hair (shout out to YouTube) to how to apply makeup (thanks, eyeshadow palette instructions). I figured it out because I wanted to. I wanted to express a version of myself that felt fun, confident, me.

I love fashion. I love shoes. And my mom still can’t figure out why I own so many.

But that’s the point. You get to choose who you become.

Like Carrie Bradshaw said, I know I’ll never be the girl with perfect hair who can keep her white outfit clean through a meal. For whatever reason, I always manage to spill on myself. I’m also the girl who walks into poles, trips in public, and laughs through the embarrassment. And I accept that.

Whatever I want to change, I’ll change. But I do it on my terms.

I know I’ll never be a statistic—unless we’re talking about how many pairs of heels I own (guilty as charged).

So here’s the truth:
Love yourself as you are. You are unique. If you don’t like the situation you’re in, change it. You are the designer of your life. Don’t let excuses become roadblocks.

Because the truth is—wherever you are right now, you got there.
And that means you can get somewhere else, too.

The Road to Self-Discovery

I finally did it. I figured out what I want to be when I grow up.

It’s taken time—and more than a few detours—but I’ve landed on something that feels right. The beginning of this year came with its fair share of struggles, but somewhere along the way, I stepped onto this road of clarity and self-expression. And let me tell you, it’s been enlightening.

If you know me, you know I don’t always express myself best out loud. But give me a pen and paper, and suddenly, I’m fluent in emotion. Writing has always been my safe space, my outlet, my translator. And lately, I've been learning so much about myself—especially in relationships. This current one? It's been a mirror. It's shown me who I really am when I care deeply about someone.

I’m stubborn. I don’t always know how I feel until twenty minutes later. And when I’m angry, I stutter. (Yes, really.) Looking back, some of my past relationships were filled with arguments, which now feels so foreign to me. I’m not naturally aggressive. But some people... they just know how to push your buttons. Still, I’ve always been patient. I try not to let things get to me—but what does get to me is inconsideration. Or people who are always looking for the easy way out.

Maybe I come off a little intense sometimes. My business upbringing wasn’t exactly all hugs and rainbows. There’s a little birdie in my head constantly chirping, “Don’t do anything half-assed.” And because of that, I hold others to the same standard. But I’ve been working on softening that edge—reminding myself: They are not me. Relax.

Anyway, I know what you’re wondering: Okay, but what do you want to be when you grow up?

Fine. I’ll tell you.

I want to be a Corporate Trainer. I want to create and lead training and development. I want to teach, guide, and empower adults—and yes, I get to write in the process. Boom.

Now, I know what you're thinking: Why not just be a teacher? Here's the thing—I'm not a kids person. I love the ones in my life, truly. But dealing with other people’s kids (and their possibly questionable home training)? Not my lane. And that’s okay. I have so much respect for the teachers who do that work and do it well. Thank you for showing up, for shaping the future.

As for me? I’m stepping confidently into this new direction. I’m excited to grow, to lead, and to finally merge my passions in a meaningful way.

See you at the finish line. 🚀

In My Head

I’m starting to get used to this non-scheduled style of blogging. I only seem to write when inspiration squeezes into a rare free moment in my overbooked life. Sigh. But hey, I created this life, so I keep on truckin’.

Lately, I’ve noticed these sudden waves of emotion hitting me—like clockwork—every month. It’s like I can feel everything more deeply, more urgently, and I honestly don’t know what to do with it. I get irritated quickly. I need space. And yet, people rush in, trying to fix me or make it better. But the truth is, nothing is really wrong. There’s just this amplified version of myself that I have to ride out until the volume turns down again.

I remember reading The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle, where he talks about how women, during this time, aren’t quite themselves. That struck a chord. Because in those moments, I don’t feel like myself. I want to be present. I want to find peace. But sometimes my emotions are on a rollercoaster I didn’t agree to ride. And the worst part? I don’t realize I’m reacting until the moment’s already passed.

Most of the time, I talk myself off the ledge silently—in my head. I guess that’s where the phrase comes from. Being “in your head.” It’s a place I know well. Maybe it’s the side effect of having a creative mind. We drift into our thoughts, our dreams, our storylines, and forget that reality is happening all around us.

That’s probably why I’ve never been good at taking pictures. I’m so in the moment—in my head—that I forget to capture it. There are so many beautiful memories from college I wish I had photos of. But nope, no snapshots. Just fragments in my mind. Luckily, the Comedian is a picture person. Problem solved.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is—pause. Take a breath. Get out of your head. See the moment for what it is. I'm mostly writing this as a reminder to myself, honestly. Blogging has always been my therapy, my grounding cord, my gentle nudge to grow. And growth starts with awareness.

I'm Rubber, You're Glue

It’s late and I really should be reading an article for class—yes, I’m back in school pursuing my MBA. I’m not entirely sure where it’ll lead me, but the future feels full of promise. For now, I’m in one of those late-night reflective moods. A little random, a little philosophical.

Lately, I’ve found myself becoming more and more a student of human behavior. The more I experience and learn, the more I notice how easily egos can be bruised—especially when the hurt comes from someone we hold in high regard. I’m not immune to it. Sometimes it feels like one careless comment can slash straight through your confidence.

But then I remember that childhood comeback: “I’m rubber, you’re glue—whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.” Kids really had it right. What changed? I think puberty turned us all into emotional puddles.

We forget that the present is all we truly have. Not the past we can’t change or the future we can’t predict—but the now. And now is always the best moment if we let it be.

I’ve always tried to be an advocate for living life happily. Sure, bad things happen—losses, heartbreak, setbacks. But those are the things that teach us. They push us to grow. And through it all, I’ve realized one thing: the less you care about what people think, the more you get to be yourself. Fully. Unapologetically.

I know my friends and family love me for exactly that—my love of life, my goofy laugh, my corny jokes, and my random trivia I feel everyone must know. And that’s the best kind of love: the kind that grows when you stop shrinking yourself to fit someone else’s comfort.

So let the criticism bounce off. You’re rubber, remember?

Let people love you for being you.

Our Ego Makes Us Judge

"Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again."
—Matthew 7:1–2 (KJV)

Society and scripture often feel like they’re at odds. While the Bible teaches us not to judge, social media and pop culture seem to encourage it. We scroll past people’s outfits, comment on their parenting styles, question how often they post—and Reality TV? It's made an empire out of drama and public opinion. We've become so accustomed to critiquing others that we often forget to reflect on how we should actually treat people.

I try to remind myself not to scrutinize others—it’s not my place. But I’ll be honest, there's still a quiet voice in my head that tries to override that. Judgment has become second nature in a world that rewards comparison. But if I truly believe that we are created in God’s image, then judgment isn’t my job. That’s His alone. Most religions share this sentiment: we are meant to love others, even when we don’t agree with them.

This has been hard for me to accept, especially because I’ve always felt this deep desire to help people. But somewhere along the line, I started confusing help with control. I wasn’t guiding them for them—I was trying to mold them into someone more like me. Someone once asked me:

“Why do you feel the need to correct people’s grammar? Is it for them, or for you?”

Oof. That question landed hard.

Because honestly, it was for me. It was about boosting my ego—feeling helpful, needed, or “right.” It took me a long time to understand that unsolicited help is often just another form of control. And control, at its core, is ego in disguise. When we try to orchestrate how others should act or speak, we're really just trying to comfort ourselves.

I’ve lived alone for a long time, and I know I’ve grown a little set in my ways. I like order. I like structure. But I’m realizing that clinging to control only leads to disappointment and stress. Letting go feels counterintuitive… but it's freeing.

Wedding planning is a perfect example. I’ve talked to a few guy friends going through it, and they’re frazzled. Why? Because everyone wants the day to be perfect. We obsess over details, timelines, and seating charts, thinking we can control the outcome. But in the end, the day unfolds how it’s meant to—bumps and all—and it's still beautiful. Just like life.

So here’s what I’m practicing: Let life happen. Let people be who they are. Offer help when it’s asked for. And above all, let go of judgment. There is peace in releasing control, and clarity when ego is set aside. Work hard, stay kind, and trust that things will unfold as they’re meant to.

Positivity Is Your Destiny

This morning sparked a fresh wave of motivation in me. During my vacation from work, I promised myself I’d spend time writing—but I wasn’t quite sure where the inspiration would come from.

Then, the Comedian sent me a text. It was a message from Joel Osteen, and everything clicked into place. He touched on something I had just been thinking about the day before: you are in charge of your destiny. If you walk through life with a negative mindset, negativity will follow. But if you decide to embrace positivity, great things begin to unfold.

While watching a video the Comedian shared, I saw this quote that stuck with me:

"I'm a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work the more I have of it." —Thomas Jefferson

It reminded me of stories I’ve heard over the years that fuel my own ambition. Like Jack Canfield, the author of Chicken Soup for the Soul. Struggling financially, he wrote himself a check for $100,000 and visualized receiving it. Not long after, he started selling articles for $1 each. He sold 100,000—and made that exact amount. Or Jim Carrey, who famously wrote himself a check for $10 million while still a struggling actor. Not long after, he was paid exactly that for Dumb and Dumber.

Now, maybe you're sitting there thinking, That would never happen to me. What makes me so special?

And that right there—that thought—is the problem. Self-doubt clouds your ability to receive. The truth is, you are special. You were born with something unique to offer this world. When you start envisioning your dreams as realities, when you move in faith instead of fear, life begins to shift. God works in ways we don’t always understand—but He does work.

People have told me all my life there’s something special about me. I haven’t fully uncovered what that is yet—but I’m not giving up. I believe I’m meant for something amazing. And you know what? So are you.

A couple of years ago, I came up with this quote, and I still stand by it:

“I refuse to believe misery is my destiny.”

You don’t have to accept unhappiness as your end. You are the author of your own story. Choose to write it with faith, hope, and positivity.

Because your destiny is waiting.

You're in Charge of Your Love Life

A comment was made to me recently that stirred up some emotions I hadn’t encountered in a while. I won’t repeat it—it’s not worth incriminating anyone—but it made me reflect on my dating journey.

I’ve told several people in my life how grateful I am to have met someone truly special at 30. Honestly, if I had settled down with the first person I fell in love with, I’d probably be unhappy now. If you’ve followed my blogs, you know I’ve met all kinds of men—each one teaching me something about what I truly want and need in a partner.

Call me naïve, but I genuinely believe that being single as long as I was prepared me to fully appreciate the Comedian. Sometimes, it feels like serendipity. I gave a few men second chances—trying to let go of the superficial standards I had in my early 20s—but those experiences flopped. And just when I gave up, shifted my focus, and stopped chasing... he appeared. Out of nowhere. Like God had been preparing me for him all along.

I don’t believe in a perfect person, but I do believe there’s a perfect person for me. And that’s what really matters.

That comment—the one that hit a nerve—reminded me that I do know what I have, and I am lucky. But more importantly, it reminded me how essential it is to know yourself. Know your wants. Your needs. Your limits. Your growth edges. No one else can define your destiny except you.

I recently rewatched The Wedding Date, and one quote hit me:

“Every woman has the exact love life she wants.”

At first, I bristled. But then I thought about it more. There’s a reason we date certain people, even the wrong ones. My advice? Get curious about those patterns. Dig deep. Ask yourself: What am I looking for? What am I avoiding? What am I attracting, and why?

Because once you know those answers, your love life starts aligning with your actual desires—not just your fears or habits. And that’s when the real magic begins.

You’re in charge of your love life. Always.

Is Rejection Worth the Risk?

bar-scene-07

I realized I haven’t posted in a while—but I promise to add new content more regularly this coming year. I’ll be starting my MBA in January, but you know what? Challenge accepted.

For whatever reason, I find it fascinating when the Comedian gives dating advice to his younger cousins. It’s not that what he says isn’t valid—it’s that it all makes complete sense. It’s like a window into the male brain. Since we met online, he never had to hit on me at a bar or throw out some cringey pickup line. But hearing his perspective still gives me a deeper understanding of the dating world from the other side.

I’ve spent years being single, dating, observing, laughing (sometimes crying) through it all—and I’ve definitely formed my own theories. For example: I’ve learned to smile when I want someone to come over. To laugh at their jokes (even if they’re bad). And I’ve come to admire what men deal with when it comes to rejection. Society often expects them to take charge, to initiate, to risk the “no.” Women have gotten bolder over the years—thankfully—but I’ll admit: when I’ve taken the lead, I’ve sometimes felt out of place. Too forward. Too masculine.

And let’s be honest: when I’ve approached a guy, about 75% of the time, I’ve been rejected. But when someone approaches me? There’s a 90% success rate for at least a decent conversation.

Now, I’m not saying don’t shoot your shot—by all means, do what works for you. I’ve just learned that for me, it’s more effective to make space for the connection to happen rather than force it. I also try to make the conversation about the other person, not me. The more I know about someone, the easier it is to see if we’re aligned. But again—that’s what works for me.

I said something the other day that felt like the most “me” metaphor possible:

“Dating is like math—there are different ways to get to the answer, but all that matters is you have the correct answer in the end.”

No matter who you are, there’s always a risk of rejection. But don’t let that stop you. There really are plenty of fish in the sea. And if someone doesn’t feel it, that just means they’re not your person.

My best friend once told me something I’ll never forget:

“If he doesn’t get your jokes, he’s not for you.”

And she was right. I have a unique sense of humor—equal parts dry, nerdy, and corny. I needed someone who would laugh with me or at least laugh because I’m laughing. Thankfully, the Comedian gets my jokes. Or at least pretends to, which is almost better.

So here’s my point: if you never take the chance, you’ll never know the outcome. Go for it. Risk the “no.” Because the worst that could happen? She says it. And you go on with your day. But the best that could happen? You find someone who laughs at your jokes—and gets you.

And that’s always worth the risk.

No One Likes the Same Flavor of Ice Cream

ice cream cones

In the mornings, I like to indulge in a little talk radio. I know it’s not the healthiest habit, but there’s something comforting about listening to other people ramble about their opinions—until the topic turns shallow. That’s when I quickly changed the station to something with no talking, just good music.

The other day, though, one segment really got to me. The hosts were discussing whether people get upset when they spend time getting ready—hair, makeup, outfit—and no one compliments them. Honestly, it made me a little sad. Not because of the topic itself, but because it showed how many people rely on validation from others to feel beautiful.

I might sound judgmental saying this, but really—who cares?! Beauty comes from the inside. I’ve learned over the years that when I exude confidence and feel beautiful, others notice naturally. Growing up, my younger sister and I couldn’t have been more different. She was thin, popular, the one everyone noticed. I was awkward, insecure, and unsure of myself for most of middle and high school. She made it a bit of a competition to have all the boys like her, and for a long time, I felt invisible.

Then, one day—someone liked me instead of her. Shocking, right?

But here’s the thing: it didn’t really matter. Because I came to understand something powerful—the same guys who liked her weren’t going to be into me, and that’s okay. We were different. We are different. Different styles, different personalities, different everything.

And that’s where my favorite analogy comes in:

"No one likes the same flavor of ice cream. They just might not like my flavor."

That doesn’t make my flavor any less awesome.

What bothered me about that radio topic was the way it justified insecurity. Like if you spend two hours getting ready, it only matters if someone notices. But the truth is—do it for you. Get dressed up, take time for yourself, wear the thing that makes you feel like magic. That glow? That’s yours. And you don’t need applause for it to matter.

There’s a saying:
"Dress for the job you want."

But I’d argue—dress for the life you want. Show up for yourself in a way that reflects how you want to feel. Beautiful. Confident. Whole.

You don’t need everyone to like your flavor.
Just make sure you do.

The Fall Air

Fall Leaves

Something about fall always brings back a flood of memories. The air smells different—yes, even in Florida. There’s something about it that signals the holidays are coming. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it stirs something in me. A shift. My emotions change with the season.

When I went away to college, I told myself I could handle the transition. I was a military brat, after all—adaptability was supposed to be in my DNA. But I didn’t realize how much I relied on the structure of my family to feel grounded. That year, everything around me was changing. My mom remarried, my sister moved away with her boyfriend, and my relationship with my father felt distant. I was navigating a new world and completely lost in it.

That was when the depression first hit. I tried to put on a strong face, but inside I was unraveling. Eventually, I reached out for help and started counseling. That’s when I was diagnosed with seasonal depression—the kind that creeps in during specific times of the year. For me, it was fall.

Year after year, the darkness would return. I’d crave a sense of family, a feeling of belonging. More than anything, I wanted to celebrate the holidays somewhere I felt truly accepted. Instead, I often found myself curled up in my room, sleeping until the afternoon because the darkness felt safer than the light.

Over time, I learned to manage the emotional spiral. There were even a few years where the heaviness skipped me entirely. But then last year, it returned. That same aching loneliness. I’d look at people and feel tears welling up for no reason. I felt invisible—until something shifted.

I watched The Secret, and for the first time in a long while, I felt hopeful. It reminded me that happiness doesn’t come from the people who surround you—it begins with you. I realized I’d been waiting to receive love, when I already had it. I was rich in friendships, in memories, in lessons. And above all, I was never truly alone.

God has always been there—quiet, steady, and faithful. In Him, I found not just peace, but family, friendship, and purpose.

There’s no point in living life under a cloud of negativity. Everyone has their own story, their own pain. But like I always say: what shapes you isn’t just what you’ve been through—it’s how you choose to grow from it.