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.

Growth: Becoming Who I Was Meant to Be

I’ve been struggling with what to write about lately. My blog has always revolved around my wild (and often hilarious) dating adventures, but now that I’m in a relationship—a really fulfilling one—the dating content just doesn’t resonate the same. Still, my passion for writing hasn’t gone anywhere. So I’ve asked myself: what now?

In the past few months, I’ve been going through a transformation—one that feels so overdue and so powerful. I used to think I was happy, and maybe I was, but now... now I feel fulfilled. There’s a difference. It’s not that I had it all wrong before—I always believed in treating people with respect and trying to stay positive. But I didn’t realize how much I was still holding on to, how much clouded my vision.

The shift came from a combination of things: discovering a church that speaks to me, reading books like The Secret and The Power of Now, and being in a supportive, emotionally safe relationship. All of it has helped me see how powerful it is to live life without anger and resentment weighing you down.

Here’s what I’ve learned: you’re only responsible for you. You can’t control other people’s actions, only your reactions. When you stop trying to control the narrative and just focus on being the best version of yourself, everything starts to shift. That doesn’t mean life becomes perfect—but it becomes clearer. Simpler. More intentional.

People ask me why I’m so patient, and the truth is... it’s because I’ve learned that unnecessary conflict is just that—unnecessary. If something’s out of your control, you can either accept it or resolve it. That’s it.

I’ve been through a lot in my early 20s. There was a time when I could have gone down a dark, destructive path—become that walking cliché of a girl with “daddy issues.” But I made a decision. I decided that my pain wouldn’t define me.

Forgiveness—something I wrote about recently—has been the hardest but most freeing part of that journey. How do you forgive someone who deeply hurt you? Because you must. Because their actions don’t define you. Your response does.

You’re not responsible for their choices. You don’t have to agree with what they did. But you do have to choose whether or not you’ll carry that pain forever. Forgiveness doesn’t mean what they did was okay. It just means you’re no longer letting it control you.

I believe every person I met while searching for love peeled back a layer of me. They showed me glimpses of the woman I could become—but I always knew deep down I was destined for more. And now, I’m finally stepping into that.

So yes, I’ll still be writing. Maybe not about dating disasters. But about growth. About healing. About what happens when you decide to love yourself more than your past.

Let’s see where this takes me...