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.

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.