My Own Happiness

“The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson

I’m a quote lover. It’s not unusual for me to throw one into a conversation, especially when the topic turns to inner peace or finding happiness. This quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson really resonates with me because years ago, I decided who I wanted to be.

At a recent book club meeting, we got into a passionate discussion about happiness—sparked by our selection, The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. We talked about how easy it is to fall into a rut after going through trauma or loss. And somewhere in the middle of the conversation, I found myself saying something I truly believe:

“It’s not what you’ve been through that makes you who you are—it’s how you handle it.”

I stand by that. I’m a firm believer that only you can change yourself. If you want things to be different in your life, it starts with your mindset. That’s the power of positive thinking. Our brains are incredible—they can flip our mood with a single thought.

As humans, it’s tempting to blame our jobs, our partners, or our circumstances for our unhappiness. But the truth is, our well-being starts and ends with us. Entrepreneurs succeed because they already believe in the vision they’re chasing. People who feel blessed often surround themselves with love, practice gratitude, and create a life filled with intention.

I know it might sound too simple, but I challenge you to try it: the next time a negative thought sneaks into your mind, brush it away. Replace it with something positive. Just for a day. You might be surprised at how quickly your mindset shifts—and how much lighter you feel.

Let me know how it goes. I’d love to hear what you discover.

Kill 'em with Kindness

What an interesting morning!

On my way to work, I was about to take a right onto a major street. While looking left for traffic, I must’ve let my foot off the brake just enough to gently roll into the car in front of me. Insta-accident. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything major—just a couple of scuffs on her bumper. I got out and asked the driver to pull into the business lot next to us to get out of traffic. I could tell she was initially upset, and understandably so.

She told me she was going to report the accident so she wouldn't be stuck paying for the damage. I’ll be honest—my first thought wasn’t the most gracious one. But then I realized: this was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. And how I handled this moment could shift the entire tone of the interaction.

So, I owned up to it. I offered her a copy of my insurance right away (thank you, insurance app), and explained I’d already filed a claim. That’s when she softened. She told me she didn’t mean to be a pain—it’s just that her car is leased, and she didn’t want to get stuck with the cost. “If your insurance covers it, that’s all I’m asking,” she said. And in that moment, I saw her not as an angry driver—but as a human being, trying to navigate life like the rest of us.

She even mentioned there was no need to get the police involved since we were handling everything ourselves. At the end, she thanked me for being so nice and helpful.

That little exchange reminded me: kindness always has the power to change a situation. Accidents happen. What matters is how we respond to them. We can’t undo the past, but we can choose how we show up in the present. Being kind doesn’t cost a thing, and sometimes it makes all the difference.

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.

Ignorance Is Bliss... Until It's Hurtful

I’m normally a pretty positive person, but there’s one thing that really gets under my skin—maybe because I’ve experienced it firsthand growing up—and that’s discrimination.

Recently, Marc Anthony was ridiculed on Twitter for singing “God Bless America.” People claimed it was un-American. I was floored. I mean, seriously?

1. He was born in New York.

2. He’s Puerto Rican—which makes him a U.S. citizen.

3. Spanish is the second most spoken language in the world.

4. And the U.S.? It’s literally built on being a melting pot.

He’s also a Grammy-winning artist, but let’s be real—that shouldn’t even matter. Not even a month ago, students at the University of Southern Mississippi chanted “Where’s your green card?” at a Puerto Rican basketball player. Puerto Rican. As in, American citizen. That’s not just offensive—it’s ignorant.

What makes it worse is that many Americans don’t know their own history. Nearly all of us are descendants of immigrants in some form. Even Native Americans are believed to have crossed the Bering Strait from Eurasia. If you have European ancestry, someone in your family got here on a boat, too.

Just because someone speaks another language—or looks different—doesn’t make them any less American. I don’t speak “Mexican” or “Puerto Rican.” I speak Spanish, English, and even a little Italian.

My father served over 30 years in the U.S. Army and retired as a Lieutenant Colonel. I cry every time I hear the national anthem. I have cousins serving in the military. I am proud to be American. But sometimes, I walk into certain places and immediately feel judged—just for how I look.

And yet, at the end of the day, I still love my curly hair and my brown skin. I love that I speak multiple languages. I love my culture. I love how excited we get when someone’s roasting a whole pig in the backyard. I love the music, the food, the spirit, the warmth.

This country is beautiful because of our differences. It’s ignorance that makes it ugly.

Contrasting Mistakes: Choosing Integrity in a World Full of Excuses

This past Sunday, the Comedian and I went to church, as we try to do as often as possible. Our usual pastor was on vacation, so another stepped in—and I’ve grown fond of this particular one because he always makes his sermons relatable.

He opened by talking about old-school TVs with the dials. Remember those? You had to stand up to change the channel—or, in my case, my parents made me do it. He mentioned the dial labeled “contrast,” and asked something that stuck with me: How do we stand out? How do we show contrast as Christians, as people?

As the sermon went on, I found myself leaning in, curious about where he was going. Then he touched on something that lit a spark in me: moral responsibility.

It reminded me of something I wrote in my earlier post Is Divorce an Option?—how society has gotten comfortable with failure, brushing it off like it’s no big deal. “We’re only human,” we say. Mistakes are just part of life, and somehow, we’ve begun to expect them… even excuse them. People cheat, so it’s normalized. People steal, so we shrug it off. But where’s the accountability?

I do believe mistakes are part of life, but I also believe what defines a better person is how they respond to those mistakes. I have deep respect for those who don’t hide behind excuses—who simply say, “I messed up. I’m sorry.” That’s integrity. And to me, integrity is one of the most honorable traits anyone can have.

Over the years, I’ve chosen to live transparently. Lying never got me far—it just made things messier. So now I try to live by the simple truth. It’s not always easy, but it’s worth it.

The pastor mentioned something else that struck a nerve: how people who live “pure” or hold themselves to a higher standard are often seen as fake or even judged more harshly. Isn’t that wild? We strive to become better, more honest, more compassionate people—and yet, when someone really walks that talk, they’re often criticized instead of celebrated.

The world’s a little upside down that way. But we still have a choice. Every day.

Do we want to be transparent and accountable? Or do we want to keep hiding behind our mistakes?

The contrast is clear—what side do you want to stand on?

The Best Advice I Ever Got Wasn't About Love... It Was About Money

Ironically, the best advice I’ve ever received wasn’t about love, career paths, or what college to choose—it was about finances.

Growing up, I didn’t get much guidance from my parents when it came to money. Like many college students, I was suckered into credit card offers and lived the cliché broke student life. I never loved ramen, but I definitely remember my best friend and I scraping together change to hit up the dollar menu.

After graduation, things didn’t get much easier. I worked at a publishing company where I was sexually harassed by the owner. When I confided in a coworker that I planned to file a complaint, I was conveniently fired. Then came a stint at a company owned by Lou Pearlman (yes, that Lou Pearlman), and when he went bankrupt, I was once again out of a job.

Eventually, I landed at the company I work for now—a breath of fresh air after so many letdowns. But in the chaos of those early years, someone gave me a piece of advice that changed everything:

"My father was a wise man. He told me: never depend on money you don’t have."

A light bulb went off. That one sentence sparked a whole new way of thinking about my finances. I stopped living paycheck to paycheck and started paying my bills first—then saving for a rainy day. It may sound simple, but in my early 20s, it was revolutionary.

That one shift gave me freedom. I didn’t have to panic over the next bill or depend on a credit card to get through the month. And while I’m still not exactly where I want to be, I’ve come a long way. Just writing this blog, I’m declaring it: a year from now, I’ll be in an even better place financially. (Positive thinking = positive results, right?)

Big thanks to The WordPress Chick for inspiring this post—you’re awesome!

3 Reasons Why You Should Embrace Mistakes!

Repost from one of my favorite bloggers.

3 Reasons Why You Should Embrace Mistakes!.

Happy Birthday, America! 🇺🇸

Occasions that involve the military always get me in my feelings. I’m the type who cries during the national anthem—every single time. It’s not just patriotism; it’s personal.

My dad retired as a Lieutenant Colonel in the Army and still works for the military as a civilian. I have three cousins currently serving—two in the Navy, one in the Army—and I was once engaged to someone who served in Afghanistan. So, needless to say, I have a deep respect for the sacrifices our servicemen and women make to keep us safe.

I get especially emotional when I see videos of soldiers reuniting with their families or speaking to them while deployed. That stuff hits me right in the heart. I consider myself a strong person, but those moments always bring me to tears.

Right now, I’m especially torn. One of my cousins—who is like a brother to me—is heading back to Afghanistan this month. While I know danger exists anywhere, there’s something especially heavy about someone you love being in a known war zone, where walking on the wrong path could change everything.

Growing up, I told myself I’d never date someone in the military—not because I didn’t respect them, but because I knew I couldn’t handle the lifestyle. My love language is Quality Time (read The 5 Love Languages by Dr. Gary Chapman if you haven’t), and I need that emotional closeness to feel connected. Being apart for months on end is something I really struggled with when my ex-fiancé deployed. I cried nearly every day that first month he was away. The constant worry? It’s a weight that never lifts.

That’s why I have so much admiration for military spouses and partners. Holding down the fort while your person is overseas is no small feat. It takes courage, strength, and endless resilience.

So, this blog is for all the brave men and women who serve, for the families who hold space for them, and for those who’ve lost loved ones in the line of duty. Your sacrifices are seen. Your strength is honored. And today, I’m praying extra hard for my cousins—one heading out soon, and two already far from home. I love you all. Come home safe. 🇺🇸❤️