“What If?” Is a Scary Phrase

Recently, a close friend of mine lost his father. Naturally, it got me thinking about my relationship with mine.

The first thing that hit me—hard—was the reminder that life is fleeting. People come and go. Bad things happen, good things happen. There are moments of pure joy and relationships that shape us… and sometimes break us. Some of those memories have even led me into hours of therapy I’m still not sure how I paid for. But I digress.

My younger sister, dad, and me

I didn’t have a close relationship with my dad growing up. He just wasn’t around. That’s not to say he didn’t care—it’s just complicated. Military life comes with its own set of rules. For one, I never had a friend longer than two years. Not because I wasn’t a good friend, but because we all moved constantly. I still remember my best friend from elementary school moving to Alaska. (How were we supposed to keep in touch without the internet back then?)

My dad spent nights on base, weekends in training, and eventually re-enlisted after a short-lived retirement—this time in Panama. Needless to say, he missed some of the most awkward and formative years of my life: the teenage ones. And honestly, I’m still not sure about all the reasons why he wasn’t around more.

Then, when I was about 27, something shifted. Out of nowhere, my dad reappeared and started reaching out consistently. We don’t see each other all the time, but we email regularly. And through those conversations, I’ve started to see parts of myself in him. I finally understand where my personality came from.

Still, I can’t help but wonder about the future.

Even something as joyful as wedding planning has brought its challenges. Getting a response from him about anything is like pulling teeth. And while I want him involved, I feel caught between not wanting to try too hard and fearing the regret of never having tried enough.

I want him to be part of my life now. I want him to be part of my future kids’ lives. I want him to show up—not just for the big events, but the small moments too.

I don’t want to look back and ask, “What if I had tried harder to build that relationship?”
Because, honestly? That’s all I really want.
A better relationship—before it’s too late.

My dad back in the day on the bottom right corner

How Much Does Social Media Influence Little Girls?

by Ste Elmore

The other night, the Comedian and I found ourselves in a spirited debate about what it might be like to raise girls in today’s world—especially with social media playing such a massive role. Honestly, I didn’t know how to argue his point. I’m not a parent, and I’m no expert in child psychology. I only know my own story—how I was raised and how I turned out. And the truth is, the idea of raising a child is a little terrifying. You pour your values into this tiny human and hope they grow into someone kind, confident, and grounded. But in a world flooded with likes, filters, and celebrity influence… is that enough? Or are we just being naive?

This all started with Nicki Minaj’s recent album cover—you know the one. Bent over, bare bottom on full display. She’s undeniably talented, and like it or not, she’s a role model for many young girls. But what message does that send? Is it empowering… or oversexualized? And where do we draw the line?

Not long ago, Kim Kardashian posted an Instagram photo in a barely-there swimsuit that stirred up the same questions. Growing up, I had influences like Madonna and Cyndi Lauper—but it was different. I was sheltered. My parents didn’t talk to me about sex. My mom, a traditional Catholic woman, believed in modesty. I vividly remember my college rebellion stage—lots of cleavage, short skirts, the works. I figured if I was “blessed,” I might as well flaunt it. My mom once joked that I had a closet I wore around her… and a completely different one I didn’t. (She wasn’t wrong.)

But I’ve evolved. These days, my style reflects where I am in life—not 21, not seeking attention. Just me.

After the debate, I posted a question on Facebook asking others how they felt about raising girls today. The responses varied, but many agreed—it’s harder now. Kids have access to everything. Friends with cell phones at seven. YouTube, TikTok, and Instagram influencers just a click away. One person brought up a Louis C.K. bit, where his 9-year-old daughter asks for a cell phone. He says no. She protests: "But my friend has one." He still says no. That’s parenting.

But still, we wonder: Can a parent’s influence outweigh what kids see online?
Can we raise strong, confident girls who know their worth doesn’t depend on likes or showing skin?

We hope so.

The truth is, there’s no formula. We don’t know how our children will turn out. We just hope they’re healthy, happy, and good humans. We hope they live full, beautiful lives like we did—or maybe even better.

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.

6 Points of Love in the Beginning

dinner-date

I’ve been doing some reading today and it sparked a few thoughts about love and relationships. I’ve had my fair share of ups and downs, but through it all, I’ve realized how precious life—and love—really is. Below are six lessons I’ve picked up along the way, both before and during my current relationship. Themes I’ve revisited in past blogs, but somehow they still feel just as fresh.

1. Love Comes When You Least Expect It

This one is so real. Every relationship I’ve had showed up when I wasn’t even looking. And when I did try to chase it down, it usually ended in me questioning my own worth. The love I’m in now? Completely unexpected—and completely right. It’s funny how sometimes you leave an imprint on someone’s heart and they circle back when they realize how special that was.

2. Be Patient

I’ve wrestled with abandonment issues for a long time. The anxiety of waiting on a reply or wondering where someone is used to eat me up. Like many women, I overanalyzed and panicked—even when the guy was just taking a nap. With time, I learned to sit with those feelings, understand them, and not let them take over. Insecurity is loud. But confidence in your own growth? That’s peace.

3. Stay Busy

I can’t say this enough—don’t lose yourself in someone else. Keep your life full. Nurture your friendships. Pick up a hobby (writing’s been mine). In the early days of a relationship, it's so easy to fall into "let’s spend every second together" mode. But if you keep doing you, it makes integrating your partner into your life that much smoother—and healthier.

4. Men Are Simple

Seriously. When they like you, they’ll show it. When they don’t, they act weird and confusing. Trust and honesty are non-negotiables. If you can’t trust him, what’s the point? And yes, a woman’s intuition is everything. Don’t confuse insecurity with instinct—there’s a difference. One is rooted in fear, the other in truth.

5. Don’t Try to Change Him

Let me repeat that: you cannot change him. If you find yourself making excuses or constantly explaining away bad behavior, that’s your sign. I’ve seen it play out too many times with friends (and in my own life). You want someone who helps you grow, not someone who keeps you stuck. You can’t fix broken—especially if it’s not your job to fix it in the first place.

6. Your Partner Should Be Your Best Friend

You should be able to be your weird, wonderful self around them. The Comedian makes me laugh even in the hardest moments, and he’s also there when I need to fall apart a little. We don’t share everything (I mean, he doesn’t need the play-by-play of my favorite reality show), but he’s my safe space—and that means everything.

At the end of the day, every relationship is different. But here’s what I know for sure: you’re the only one responsible for your happiness. If you’re not happy with yourself, no one else can fill that gap. So love yourself first—and let the rest follow.

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.

Unnecessary Advice: When a Friend Crosses the Line

Last night, I went out with a couple of friends—one of whom I’ve known for quite a while. During our conversation, my current engagement came up. This friend, like my fiancé, holds more conservative views about friendships and boundaries.

The tension began when I referenced his past behavior—specifically, a few moments when he was belligerent. He didn’t appreciate that I shared those examples in front of others. As a schoolteacher, he felt those stories reflected poorly on him. He asked me to be more discreet around people he didn’t know well. I understood, apologized, and took his request seriously.

But then the conversation took a turn.

He began offering me relationship advice—advice I hadn’t asked for. He told me I shouldn’t be so open with my fiancé about my “questionable past,” referencing things I’ve written about in my blogs. He said, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

I disagreed. Strongly.

To me, honesty builds trust. I’d rather be sincere and open now than have my partner find out something later and feel betrayed. That kind of dishonesty can wreck a relationship far more than the truth ever could.

We went back and forth for two hours.

He insisted I wasn’t listening. But I was—I just didn’t agree. I’m more liberal in my communication style. My relationship has weathered both lows and highs. We’ve grown because of our openness. So when he generalized all relationships as being “the same,” I pushed back again.

Not all relationships are the same.

Yes, we all have goals, and yes, we might face similar situations. But how we navigate them? That’s unique. Sometimes past conversations surface through direct questions. Other times, they come up organically. Maybe he read something I wrote. Maybe I asked. Maybe he did.

The point is: I didn’t ask to dissect my relationship. I didn’t ask for advice. And honestly, his feedback felt more like a lecture than a conversation.

I finally told him that certain things within my relationship are private. He doesn’t know the full picture. He has no right to advise me on something he doesn’t understand—especially when, by his own admission, he struggles to maintain relationships himself.

Yes, I can be stubborn—but I also listen. I’m not above asking questions or seeking guidance when needed. But don’t force your opinion on me and expect me to parrot it back like a student. Don’t change your stance mid-point just to win a debate.

I get it.
I just don’t agree.

If I ever need advice, I’ll ask. But I won’t ask a professional swimmer how to play football.

Have you ever received unwanted relationship advice from a friend? How did you handle it? Share your thoughts in the comments.