Marilyn, Me, and the Masks We Wear

“I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”
― Marilyn Monroe

Last night, in between watching the NBA Finals, I found myself caught up in a documentary about Marilyn Monroe. Call me a history geek, but I love digging into the stories of famous figures—their beginnings, their battles, the path they took to fame. There’s something powerful about learning who they really were beneath the glitter.

Truth is, I didn’t know much about Marilyn beyond the surface: the tragic suicide, the sultry “Happy Birthday” to the president, and the countless quotes that flood Instagram. But as I watched, I saw someone much deeper—someone who was incredibly insecure, hiding behind a persona she carefully curated for the world.

It was genius, in a way. She embodied the ultimate bombshell—confident, sexy, magnetic. But underneath it all, she was struggling. She wanted to be seen as more than the image the world adored. She read obsessively, trying to fill in what others said she lacked—because she never finished high school, because she wasn’t “smart enough.” It was heartbreaking and familiar.

I couldn’t help but see a version of myself in her story. I, too, used to hide parts of myself behind smiles and perfectionism. I wasn’t an orphan, I didn’t bounce from foster home to foster home, but I knew what it felt like to be deeply alone. Alone in the sense that no one really knew me, because I kept those pieces locked away. Vulnerability felt far too dangerous.

But here's the thing: living like that eventually breaks you down. You become a prisoner in your own mind. I’ve had moments—just like Marilyn must’ve had—where my thoughts raced, my emotions swelled, and I felt like I could scream from the inside out.

What changed? Self-reflection. And faith.

I started doing the hard work—recognizing my flaws, confronting them, and working to heal. I stopped pretending I had to carry everything on my own and finally realized I never truly was alone. God had been there all along, patiently waiting for me to understand that truth. That awareness has brought me more peace than I could’ve imagined.

I sometimes wonder what could have saved Marilyn. Maybe someone reminding her she was never alone. Maybe someone helping her believe that being vulnerable didn’t mean being weak. I wish she had found her version of peace before it was too late.

Finding the Right Fit: Why Office Environment Matters More Than You Think

Office Workers

Some of you know that earlier this year, I left my job to start a new role at a different company. I was genuinely excited—ready for a fresh opportunity and burned out from dealing with the owner at the screen printing company. The new position seemed promising. The owner of the jewelry company had read many of the same books I love—The Power of Now, The Secret—so I thought we’d be aligned in mindset and values.

Boy, was I wrong.

Sure, I get it. When you start somewhere new, you often have to prove yourself. You work your way up. That wasn’t the issue. What I wasn’t ready for was the toxic undercurrent I encountered. It was a small company, and with that came a very tight-knit (and not always kind) environment. The owner may have read the same books as me, but the way he lived was far from those teachings—especially when I saw his Facebook post ranting that “haters can keep hating.” That didn’t exactly scream “enlightened leader.”

Add to that an accounting manager who constantly criticized everyone—except her daughter, who also worked there—and the vibe became unbearable. By the end of the second month, I was already eyeing the door.

After finishing my 90 days, I stopped by my old company to run a few reports as a favor. Later that day, the VP approached me with an unexpected offer—he wanted me back, but in a new department. I hesitated at first, weighing the pros and cons. But the pay was better, and honestly, I had missed the camaraderie and laughter of my old team.

I said yes—and I’ve never looked back.

There’s something to be said for an environment that just fits. Somewhere where you’re surrounded by people who genuinely care and lift each other up. I’ve learned that yes, we should embrace opportunities for growth—but also know when something simply isn’t aligned. And when that happens, trust that another door is waiting to open… sometimes right where you least expect it.

Death to My 20s: A Farewell and a Fresh Start

It happened... my 30th birthday.

At work, we have this tradition: when someone has a birthday, their desk gets completely trashed. For mine, my coworkers went above and beyond—they held a funeral for my 20s. My VP laughed so hard, she cried. It was dramatic, hilarious, and oddly therapeutic.

Some people view turning 30 as a crisis point—a moment to reflect on all the dreams they had in their 20s and panic over why they haven’t come true yet. Marriage? Career? Kids? The checklist goes untouched for many, and the pressure sets in.

Me? I didn’t feel any different.

Sure, I took a moment to reminisce. In my early 20s, I thought I’d be married by now, thriving in a career I adored, maybe even with a kid or two. But that’s not where I am—and that’s okay. Because the truth is: I’m genuinely happy.

And that’s what matters.

Living fully in the now, embracing whatever comes your way—that’s the sweet spot. You can't control everything, but you can control your mindset, your choices, and your circle. I had a conversation not long ago with a friend’s brother who looked at me and said, “You created your life, didn’t you?” It stopped me in my tracks.

He was right.

Every decision, every pivot, every mindset shift—I crafted the life I’m living today. In my early 20s, I hit rock bottom. But even in that darkness, I told myself: I will not stay here. I will become the best version of me. And step by step, that’s exactly what I’ve done.

So, here's to the 30s. I know amazing things are ahead, and I’m ready to greet them all—wide-eyed, open-hearted, and fiercely me.

The Life Lessons Hidden in White Jeans

Call me nostalgic, but today I slipped on a pair of white jeans and was instantly transported back to middle school—11 years old, just trying to fit in. Back then, white jeans were the thing. The cool kids had them, and naturally, I wanted a pair too.

I didn’t grow up with much. My mom was… let’s just say, frugal. Getting anything name brand was a debate in our household—if it happened at all. So when I finally got a pair of white jeans, they felt like treasure. I couldn’t wait to wear them.

On my first day showing them off, I was in the lunchroom, chatting away, trying to play it cool—and then, bam. Chocolate milk. All. Over. My. Jeans. My lack of coordination betrayed me. I was mortified. I never wore those jeans again.

Fast forward to now: I’m still clumsy. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve tripped over my own feet or spilled coffee on my shirt. But the difference is—now I carry a Tide stick in my purse. Lesson learned.

That old saying—“If only I knew then what I know now”—has been echoing in my mind. But here’s the thing: if I hadn’t spilled the milk or gone through the heartbreaks and setbacks, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today.

I embrace my scars, even the invisible ones, because they’ve made me more compassionate, more self-aware, more me. And yes, if you looked closely at the photo—I may also have a slight obsession with shoes.

But who I am now? She’s walking confidently in white jeans—battle-tested, prepared, and unapologetically proud of every stain and story that got her here.

It's that time... again

As a woman, I struggle with my ever-changing—umm—hormones. When it’s “that time of the month,” my emotions tend to go a little haywire. Normally, I like to pride myself on being cool and calm, so when I started to notice a pattern in my heightened sensitivity, I decided to pay closer attention.

This isn’t some groundbreaking discovery—Eckhart Tolle even addresses it in The Power of Now. He talks about how important it is for women, in particular, to remain grounded in the present moment during this time. I found that oddly comforting. While the point of the book is to stay in the “now” and observe your state of being, when hormones are running the show, it feels like my mind is running a mile a minute.

I think the first time I realized I might be going a little off was a few months ago, during an argument with a friend. Afterward, I asked myself, Why did that make me so upset? Then, like clockwork, the same topic came up the next month—and boom, same reaction. That’s when it hit me. I connected the dots. Hello, PMS.

I didn’t want to believe that my physiology could hijack my peace, but I had to admit it: it does.

Even today, I was talking to my boyfriend—we’ll call him The Comedian—and for some reason, I convinced myself he was upset with me. It wasn’t until after the conversation that I had to laugh at myself. Girl, what are you doing? Then it dawned on me... yep, that time is just around the corner.

Sometimes, we forget that we’re not entirely in control of our emotional responses. Some women might feel it more intensely than others, but for many of us, this monthly rollercoaster is real. Yes, I get cranky—especially if I’m rubbed the wrong way in the morning. It can set my entire day off course.

But there’s hope. I recently rewatched The Secret, and it reminded me that even if your day starts off rough, you have the power to shift your emotions—even just a little. That small shift can change your entire perspective.

Who said being a woman was easy? We deal with hormones, society’s expectations, and still show up like nothing’s happening. So, the next time you're feeling like you're spiraling for no reason—check the calendar, take a deep breath, and know you're not alone.

Making Half the Attempt isn't Enough

Yesterday, I went to Sunday service as part of our weekly ritual, and the sermon really hit home. The message was all about “teaching an old dog new tricks.” It reminded me how easy it is to get caught up in our routines and become complacent. We stop asking ourselves what we can do to grow, to improve, to become better. But being a good Christian—and a good human—means striving to be the best version of ourselves every day.

We're not perfect, and we’re not meant to be, but that doesn't mean we stop trying.

One line that has always stuck with me came from a very unlikely source: my old “internship” at a record label in my early 20s. That experience was one of the most difficult times in my life—full of deceit, manipulation, and pressure to do things I was never meant to do. But the man who put me through all that used to say one thing over and over: “Don’t do things half-ass.” As strange as it sounds, that phrase became a sort of mantra for me.

Why? Because deep down, we all know when we’re not giving our best. When you’re just checking off boxes at work, when you’re telling someone half the truth, when you’re doing just enough to say you did it—you feel it in your gut. That’s not effort. That’s avoidance.

I was also recently at an event featuring a panel of men who had reached the peak of their careers—executives from places like Red Lobster and Walt Disney World. One of them, the Brand Manager at Red Lobster, said something that echoed the same sentiment: “If you want to grow in your career, do something outside of your job description.” Your job description is just a guideline. It’s what you do beyond that that sets you apart.

The pastor even told a story about his dog—how he always knew when his dog had done something wrong because it would show guilt and shame without a word being said. That struck me. We’re the same way. When we know we’re phoning it in, we feel that guilt in our spirit.

Doing the bare minimum might get you by, but it won’t make you better. True growth comes from doing more than what’s expected—being honest with yourself and showing up fully.

So here’s my takeaway: If you want to level up—spiritually, professionally, or personally—you have to give more than half the effort. You have to show up with your whole heart. Anything less, and you’re only cheating yourself.

Bruised Egos: The Real Reason We Lose Our Minds

It’s amazing how one blog post can spark so many conversations. Over the last week, I’ve come to a realization: our ego is at the root of almost all of our emotional chaos.

Ever wonder why someone or something affected you so deeply? It’s because they bruised your ego.

Think about it—why do women often say we dress for other women? Because we know we’re the most critical of each other, and that validation gives our ego a boost. Why do really insecure people overreact to the smallest things? Because deep down, they want their ego to be acknowledged, even if it’s through conflict. People-pleasing? Same story—it’s a way to feel needed, which strokes the ego.

But what if, just for one day, you decided your ego didn’t matter?

The truth is, only you are responsible for your happiness. If you don’t realize that, you’ll constantly chase happiness in others—and be perpetually disappointed. Humans are inherently selfish. We don’t always mean to be, but we tend to make decisions that protect our own peace. That guy who didn’t call you back? Maybe he was just tired of being nagged. That friend you bailed on? Maybe you couldn’t face another convo about her breakup. It’s not always malicious—it’s just ego management.

After reading a few books and following thinkers like Kyle Cease (yes, the comedian turned motivational speaker), I’ve learned that many of my emotional decisions were really just attempts to protect or inflate my ego. I’ve lived a long life of people-pleasing. I wanted to be the strong one—the one who never needed help, the one who could take on anything. Why? Because being seen that way made me feel worthy. It gave me purpose. It boosted my ego.

But here’s the thing: that way of living is exhausting. It’s not sustainable, and honestly, it keeps you from living in the present.

Letting go of your ego isn’t easy. It takes awareness and practice. But next time you feel that sting—that emotional punch to the gut—pause. Ask yourself: Is this really about them, or is it about how I want to be seen?

Try choosing a response that isn’t rooted in protecting your pride. You might be surprised how freeing it feels to let go.

Remember When...

Don’t you remember when bills didn’t need paying and you could run barefoot through the backyard without a care in the world? When no one you loved was going through a divorce or grieving an unimaginable loss? When no one had ever harmed you—and even a butterfly landing on your shoulder felt like magic?

Remember when you’d fall asleep on the couch watching My Little Pony, only to wake up in your dad’s arms as he carried you to bed? Or when he gave you a high five for finally hitting the ball off the tee? Those were the days when life was just playtime—when Barbie and Ken were off getting married, riding their pink Corvette through your living room, and the biggest conflict was telling your sister it was your turn on the Nintendo.

But grown-up reality? It’s darker. Heavier. It can leave you feeling empty or overwhelmed, wondering Is this really it? Life becomes a series of heartbreaks, unpaid bills, funerals, cruel words, and people who disappoint. It’s easy to lose that childlike light we once carried so freely.

But here’s the truth: You don’t have to just “remember when.”

You can still be that person—the one full of wonder, joy, and hope. Yes, life leaves its bruises. The world breaks us open in ways we never asked for. But we are not powerless. Just like we once got up with scabbed knees and kept running, we can still heal and keep going.

Pray. Breathe. Laugh. Keep moving forward.

Live your life in such a way that you don’t have to cling to memories of “when.”
Because when can be right now.

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.

Serendipity: When God Sends You Exactly Where You Need to Be

Lately, life has been full of little moments that feel… divinely timed. Since starting my relationship with God, prayer has become a regular part of my life. And truthfully, I’m not the same woman I was six months ago. I feel content in a way that’s hard to explain.

It’s almost as if I’m being placed in certain situations on purpose. I believe that’s God at work—nudging me, guiding me, showing me where I need to be.

A couple of weeks ago, I was invited to a Women of ALPFA event—a professional organization for Hispanic leaders. I said yes, thinking it would be your standard networking mixer. (Which, don’t get me wrong, is great. I’m all for putting yourself out there and making new connections.) But I had no idea what I was walking into.

After dinner and a few opening remarks, the keynote speaker took the stage. Her name was Janet Perez Eckles, and she instantly captivated the room. Blind since age 31, she went on to become a professional interpreter, motivational speaker, and a best-selling author. Her energy was electric. Her story moved me deeply—and in that moment, I felt this undeniable clarity: writing is my calling.

I’ve heard that whisper in the back of my mind for years. But that night? It shouted. That night felt like divine confirmation.

And it didn’t stop there.

Not long after, I attended another professional event—this one hosted by NSHMBA, where I serve as the Director of Marketing. After a networking icebreaker, a man approached me. He had been in my boyfriend’s group and started the conversation by complimenting him (which, honestly, melted my heart because I know he’s a good man). We got to talking, and I found out he was newly divorced and dipping his toes back into the dating world.

He was hesitant about online dating. I couldn’t help but chuckle a little—because, well, I’ve been in that space for years. I told him the truth: dating online isn’t something to fear. We’re all so busy and guarded these days that stepping into a digital space just helps you connect with others who are also serious about finding love.

As long as you meet safely and stay honest, online dating is no more risky than meeting someone at a bar or through friends. I told him, dating is always a risk. You’re putting your heart out there in hopes that maybe this will lead to something real. And sometimes, all it takes is a small conversation to shift someone’s perspective.

He thanked me before we parted ways. And I couldn’t help but think—if I hadn’t been there, maybe he wouldn’t have taken that step toward love.

Is that serendipity? Is it divine alignment? I think it’s both. I truly believe that when you pray with intention, God listens. He may not answer in flashing lights or loud voices—but He sends people, moments, nudges, signs. You just have to slow down enough to see them.