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.

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.

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.

Daddy’s Little Girl… I Think

One of the biggest things I struggled with in my 20s was abandonment. I was talking to a friend recently about my relationship with my father and how things have shifted over the past few years.

Growing up, my dad and I were never especially close. He was in the Army most of my life, always working or traveling. When I was about 11, he went to Panama on business and, essentially, never moved back home. My parents divorced right before I turned 14. After that, he’d check in now and then or send money for school, but he wasn’t really there. And even though he had always been distant, I still felt this deep need to impress him. I worked hard in school, hoping for some kind of approval. But once he left, that drive started to fade. I did well in high school, but once I got to college, everything changed. I struggled in ways I hadn’t before—and not having my dad around definitely didn’t help.

When people think about “daddy issues,” they usually imagine two extremes: either someone who’s overly promiscuous and afraid of commitment, or someone who jumps from relationship to relationship trying to fill that void. I won’t say exactly where I fell on that spectrum, but I will say this: I was terrified of commitment for a long time. I self-sabotaged more than once with men who genuinely cared for me. It was like I was preparing myself for them to leave—because that’s what I knew.

At one point in my late 20s, I had completely resigned to the idea of being alone. It felt easier. No one could get close enough to hurt me, and I convinced myself that I was content.

Then I met someone who saw right through me. She made it her mission to figure me out, and in doing so, helped me recognize the patterns and fears I’d built around relationships. I’d had close friends in college who supported me through hard times, but this was different. She saw the deeper layers and called them out with compassion. Her friendship helped me get more comfortable with emotional closeness.

About three years ago, out of nowhere, my father came back into my life. He started emailing me almost daily, calling every week. It was surreal. After so much time apart, I had to learn how to let him back in. And as strange as it sounds, his presence started easing the weight I’d carried for so long. My abandonment issues didn’t just disappear, but they loosened their grip.

There were still moments where I’d fall into old feelings—but overall, having him back made a huge difference. Then, in February of this year, something shifted even deeper when I started going to church. I felt a conviction stirring in me. I knew I had to forgive my father—not just for his absence, but for the space he left in me that I didn’t know how to fill.

Since then, I’ve felt lighter. And I’m so grateful he’s in my life again. The more we talk, the more I see myself in him—his sarcasm, his outgoing nature. He tells me stories about how I was his little baby, and it melts me. It’s healing to know he loved me all along, even if he didn’t always show it in ways I needed.

At the end of the day, that’s what matters—not the past, not the uncertainty of the future, but this moment. Right now, my dad is present. He’s a part of my life in a way I never expected. And forgiving him—along with anyone else who’s hurt me—was the best gift I could give myself.

If you’re looking for change, sometimes all it takes is a prayer. God has a plan. And I know mine is unfolding in a beautiful way.

Is This Your Reality?

Yet another conversation with the Comedian sparked today’s reflection. One of the most beautiful things in a relationship is when your conversations ignite creativity and self-awareness. Lately, we’ve been talking a lot about “other people’s realities.” It’s a tricky concept to explain, but when you start living consciously and staying present, the noise of gossip and drama just doesn’t hit the same. You start to see how much time and energy people give to things that don’t actually matter.

I’ll admit, there have been moments when I let someone else’s reality throw me off—when their negativity or judgment distracted me from my peace. But I’ve learned that when toxic energy interrupts your joy, the goal isn’t to fight it. It’s to gently guide yourself back to the beauty of the moment.

I’m reminded of something I heard in The Secret: if you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, you might feel like the whole day is ruined. But in reality, you have the power to change that energy at any time. You can shift your mood, reset your perspective, and reclaim your day. You are in charge of your emotions and your environment—including the people you choose to keep close.

In The 4-Hour Work Week, Timothy Ferriss says that you are the average of the five people you spend the most time with. That hit home for me. It’s taken time, but I can honestly say that the people closest to me now reflect the values I cherish: growth, peace, and authenticity.

Everyone lives in their own reality. You can’t change theirs—but you can shape your own. You can choose to live in alignment with the person you want to become.

This past Sunday, Joel Osteen said something that stuck with me:
“Nothing you have done has canceled your destiny.”
God still has a plan for you—it’s your choice whether or not to listen.

As for me, I choose to keep walking this path of positive enlightenment.
What about you?

The Evolution of Val

The other day, I was perusing my old laptop when I stumbled upon some college-era blog posts. Reading through them felt like time-traveling into the world of my younger self—a drama-filled, boy-crazy, party girl phase that I remember all too well. It's wild to think I’ve been blogging since 2004. Back then, I was writing on MySpace, convinced I was the next Puerto Rican Carrie Bradshaw.

Honestly, I’ve been journaling since middle school. (Yes, I even found those too.) One memory that still makes me laugh—though it definitely wasn’t funny at the time—was when my sister took my high school diary to the neighbor’s house and read it out loud. I was going through puberty and “discovering myself” (you know what I mean), and I thought that diary was a safe place to write about… certain experiences. Spoiler: it wasn’t.

Still, reading through those old entries made me proud. I’m in awe of how much I’ve grown. Some of the same thoughts and values are still with me, but the woman I am today is more grounded, more intentional. I think growth like this often starts after hitting some kind of rock bottom—a moment where you say to yourself, “I don’t want to be this version of me anymore.”

That moment came for me at 21. I won’t go into all the details—that’s a blog for another day—but I made a conscious decision to be better. And I stuck with it.

Life is a constant evolution. I truly believe we should always be learning, always growing. The last time I felt like I was spiraling, I found comfort in positive thinking and faith. And with those two things on my side, I know I won’t return to that place again.

My 20s were full of messy dating experiences, adulting lessons, and self-discovery. And honestly? I think my 30s are going to be fabulous. Maybe 10 years from now, I’ll look back and write “The Evolution of Val: Part II.” And I hope I’m still proud of the woman I continue becoming.

Who do I want to be?

A couple of nights ago, I was talking with the Comedian about my last blog post. We ended up deep in conversation about the human condition and our parents—how much of who we are is shaped by them, and how much we get to decide for ourselves.

Growing up, I used to compare my parents to my friends’ parents and wish things had been different. My dad had left, and my mom, while present, wasn’t emotionally available. I spent most of my teens and early twenties just trying to figure life out. I didn’t have much guidance—just this deep desire to leave home and go to college, which I did. I was the cliché lost college girl, trying to piece life together one experience at a time (or letting my friends do it for me).

It wasn’t easy finding my identity. I don’t think it is for anyone, really, but it felt especially hard without a strong example to look up to. Still, I’ve come to realize—everyone has a story. Some people grew up with abusive parents. Others had dads who drank too much or moms who never gave affection. We either repeat those patterns or we break them. That’s where our power lies.

Funny enough, I started this blog a few days ago, and on the way back from Miami this past weekend, the Comedian and I were listening to Joel Osteen—his sermon was about this exact idea. Serendipity at its finest.

At some point, you have to stop blaming your parents or your past and ask: Who do I want to be? You get to choose. Life is full of choices—what time we wake up, what we wear, how we treat people, and yes, even how we respond when life doesn’t go our way. I read a quote once that stuck with me:

“How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours.” – Wayne Dyer

Joel said something similar—that we are the ones who decide whether to break generational habits and whether or not we pass them on to our children. It’s not easy, but once you consistently choose positivity and stay mindful of your reactions, something incredible happens: life starts to feel lighter. People treat you differently. The energy around you shifts.

You don’t have to carry your mother’s anxiety or your father’s anger. You get to rewrite the script. That’s the beauty of free will. That’s the power of the mind. It’s yours—so choose wisely.

Where did all of this positive thinking come from...

I believe change starts with a realization—a moment where you admit to yourself that something needs to shift. I’ve always considered myself a positive thinker, but looking back to about 8 or 9 months ago, I wasn’t truly content. Sure, I had great friends, a solid support system, and a social calendar that kept me busy, but something was missing.

Since college, I’ve dealt with bouts of depression. I always refused medication, telling myself I could push through it—and for the most part, I did. But every now and then, a trigger would send me spiraling. I remember days when I couldn’t get out of bed, when the darkness felt easier than facing the world, and all the painful things that came with it.

I don’t quite remember the exact order of events that led to my transformation, but I know it started with a rejection. I had been casually dating someone, and when it didn’t work out, I unraveled. It wasn’t the guy or the relationship that broke me—it was the feeling of abandonment. It cracked open wounds that had been quietly building.

After crying uncontrollably and struggling just to breathe, I told myself, I never want to feel this way again.

Shortly after, I went to a meeting and watched the movie The Secret. That changed everything. I started seeing the connection between my thoughts and my emotional well-being. Negative thinking had gotten me to that dark place—and I made the decision to start living differently.

I made a vision board. I wrote affirmations on index cards and kept them by my bed—reminders of the life I wanted to create. One of the cards said I wanted a long-term, prosperous relationship. Just a day or two later, I heard from someone I had dated two years prior who had made a big impact on me. The most amazing part? He, too, had read The Secret and The Power of Now. We reconnected over our shared journey toward positive thinking—and those conversations continue to this day. He is now my boyfriend of six months, and I am hopelessly in love.

A few months later, I started going to church with him. What surprised me most was how much the Bible mirrored the same ideals I had been learning. Negative thoughts? That’s the enemy trying to steal your joy. The Bible teaches gratitude, joy, and faithful thinking. I realized I could ground my positivity in something even deeper—faith.

Now, I strive to be a light for others. Whether we’re close or not, I want my energy to inspire others to believe in better days. As the amazing Janet Perez Eckles once said, “Let your purpose be to inspire.” That’s what I aim to do.

I know that as long as I stay on this path—rooted in positivity, grounded in faith—I won’t ever return to that dark place. And if I can help someone else along the way, then that, to me, is everything.

Why Does It Matter? A Reflection on Love, Ego, and Insecurity

Being in a relationship like the one I’m in now has opened my mind to things I would have never explored while single. It’s such a strange feeling. When I was single, if a guy dismissed me, my ego would kick in and I’d think, “He has no idea what he’s missing.” I knew what I brought to the table—smart, funny, independent, confident. Why wouldn’t someone want that?

But now that I’m in an amazing relationship, my insecurities have started to bubble up in ways they never did before. When you’re single, it’s easy to brush things off because there’s always another adventure, another guy, another distraction. But in a committed relationship—when everything is going great—that’s when the deeper questions creep in: Is it enough? Am I enough?

The truth is, of course it’s enough. He’s with you because you’re worthy. You always were.

I talk to friends all the time about their insecurities. When I’m on the outside looking in, I find myself asking, Why does it matter? So what if he hasn’t answered your text or liked your post within seconds? He might be busy. If at the end of the day he’s showing up, being present, and making you feel loved—that’s what matters. But I get it. In relationships, especially for fiercely independent women, vulnerability can feel foreign—even uncomfortable.

When you’ve been relying on yourself for everything—your time, your space, your energy—sharing your world with someone else can be hard. And letting go of control? Even harder.

Last week, I had a vulnerable moment that challenged me deeply. I’m a perfectionist, and when I feel like I’m not “perfect,” it bruises my ego. Looking at yourself honestly is tough. It’s easier to give advice to someone else than to deal with your own emotions and sit in the discomfort.

Luckily, my boyfriend and I made the decision early on to keep God at the center of our relationship. And not to preach, but that decision grounds me. When I remember that I am already perfect as God intended me to be, it becomes easier to embrace love, flaws and all. During that moment of doubt, I realized it was my ego getting in the way. A distraction. A tactic to distort what’s real. Love is meant to be joyful. Don’t let negativity, insecurity, or pride cloud your view.

I once heard a comedian joke, “If anyone ruins a relationship, it’s the woman.” I hate that stereotype—but I understand where it comes from. Sometimes, women overthink things because we crave connection and clarity, while men operate with simple intentions. If they want you, they’ll make it clear. They won’t play games.

So when you catch yourself spiraling—second-guessing, analyzing, overreacting—stop and ask: Why does it matter? If the love is real and you’re both showing up for each other, trust it. Trust Him. Trust you.