“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

Don't Get in that Car

I recently heard something on the radio that shook me. A young woman had been raped after getting into a car with a stranger.

My first thought? Why would anyone get into a car with someone they don’t know?
But I had to pause. Because while it might seem obvious to some of us, we live in a world where people are taught to be polite—sometimes at the expense of their safety.

Maybe it’s my thick skin. Maybe it’s the close calls I’ve had. But I believe we need to talk more honestly about the decisions we make and how to protect ourselves—not with blame or shame, but with clarity.

We’re all taught about “stranger danger” as kids, but somehow, that lesson fades as we grow up. Yet the risks don’t. According to the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network (RAINN), most sexual assaults are committed by someone the victim knows—but that doesn’t mean trusting a stranger is any safer.

A recent social experiment on YouTube (watch here: Social Experiment on Stranger Danger) showed just how easy it is for people to let their guard down. It’s chilling to see women voluntarily get into a car with someone they just met.

I speak from experience. I haven’t always made the safest choices, and I say this with empathy, not judgment. I know what it’s like to want to believe in the good in people. But there’s a line between being optimistic and being unprotected.

Let’s look at another scenario:
You meet a guy at a bar. He’s charming, the vibe is right, and then he invites you to his place after.
What do you think is going to happen? A long, respectful conversation about art and philosophy? Probably not.

One of my favorite lines from How I Met Your Mother says it best:

“Nothing good happens after 2 a.m.”

Go home. Protect your dignity and your peace. If he’s a good guy, he’ll call. If he doesn’t? He never was.

I get it—insecurities sometimes make us crave validation. Sometimes curiosity gets the better of us. And sometimes we just don’t want to be alone. I’ve been there.

But the truth is, many of my worst dates and most regrettable choices could’ve been avoided if I’d put my self-worth first. That’s the lesson I’m sharing here—not to shame, but to empower.

I also believe God doesn’t put us through anything we can’t handle. Sometimes we fall so we can rise stronger. But we can minimize how hard we fall by listening to our gut, learning from the past, and choosing ourselves first.

If you or someone you know is struggling, confused, or carrying the weight of a sexual assault, I’m here to listen—no judgment, just support. That goes for men and women alike.

You are worth protecting. You are worth waiting for. You are worthy—period.

Achievement Lately: When Netflix Inspires You to Get Off the Couch

I’ve been thinking a lot about achievement lately.

So there I was, deep into a House of Cards binge—watching fictional politicians claw their way to the top of the power ladder—while I sat comfortably on the couch doing the exact opposite. The irony, right? But in my defense, I was multitasking. Kind of.

Somewhere between episode five and a second bowl of popcorn, this familiar pounding started in my chest. Not anxiety. Not caffeine. But that persistent feeling that I need to write this book.

I’ve been dodging this story for a while because, honestly, it’s a heavy one. It’s complicated. It's traumatic. It’s the kind of story that makes your hands tremble before they hit the keyboard. But it’s also the story that could save someone else from making the same mistake.

And maybe that’s the reason it keeps tugging at me.

It was the most traumatic experience of my life. It opened my eyes to the dark corners of the world—and the kinds of people who prey on the naive, the hopeful, the trusting. People say I’m strong, and I appreciate that, but strength isn’t something you wake up with. It’s forged. And this experience… forged me.

The good news? Last night, I wrote.

And when I wrote, I felt okay. Actually okay. I expected to feel panic, or to break down, or to stop halfway through. But I didn’t. It was like something had shifted. Maybe years of therapy and prayer actually worked. Maybe I’m finally on the other side of it.

So why write it now?

Because the story matters. Because I’m not the only one it’s happened to—and I won’t be the last if no one speaks up. Because a man who once lured me with a dream was later arrested for grand larceny. Because closure isn’t always silent; sometimes it’s written.

I’ve drafted versions of this book for years. None of them stuck. But this time feels different. It feels right. And if God keeps nudging me toward it, then maybe it’s finally time to listen. Every time I ignore it, the guilt grows louder. And honestly? I’m tired of carrying it.

So yes, I’ll write the book.

But also, yes—I will finish House of Cards.

Balance, people.

5 Ways to Boost Your Confidence (Even on the Tough Days)

Being a strong woman in a world that’s constantly trying to dim your light can be exhausting. I literally just finished reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert—after putting it off for ages and watching the movie at least 500 times—and her story left me inspired. Especially her time in India, which helped her reclaim her confidence.

It’s easy to forget how beautiful, smart, sassy, and downright unstoppable we are. So on those days when you’re feeling just a bit “meh,” here are five ways to pick yourself up and remind the world exactly who you are.

1. Dress the Way You Want to Feel

It’s wild what clothes can do for our self-esteem. Ever looked in the mirror and said, “Damn, I look good”? You can feel like that every day.

You’ve heard it before:

“Dress for the job you want.”

Well, dress for the mood you want to. Want to feel sexy? Rock that lace thong that makes you feel like a total vixen. Need to own the day? Slip on your favorite power suit. What you wear on the outside can shift everything on the inside.

2. Drop the Negativity

Negativity is sneaky. Sometimes it comes disguised as friends, gossip, or “just venting.” And yes, it’s easy to get sucked in—hello, reality TV addiction—but it’s toxic to your confidence.

Here’s a little truth bomb: some people are in your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. If their season has ended and they’re dragging you down, it’s time to lovingly let go. Confidence starts with you, not what they think of you.

3. Talk to Yourself (In a Good Way)

Yes, I mean it—talk to yourself in the mirror. Find a mantra and say it daily. Something like:

“I am beautiful, and no one is going to dim my shine today.”

Or…

“I am a force, and today is mine to own.”

At first, it may feel silly. But self-talk is powerful. Say it until you believe it. And if you don’t believe it? Say it again. And again.

4. Move That Body

You don’t need a gym membership—just move. Dance in your kitchen, go for a walk, do a quick YouTube workout. Exercise releases endorphins, those magical chemicals that make you feel good (think baby laughter, but internal).

And beyond that, it gives you more energy, a better mood, and a serious glow-up in the confidence department.

5. Surround Yourself with Positivity

You are the company you keep. Hang with people who challenge you, uplift you, and believe in your greatness. I’ve been blessed with incredible friends who inspire me every time we’re together—smart, strong, and endlessly supportive.

Yes, it took a while to clear the toxic energy, but it was worth every bit of that journey. Find a mentor, lean into your tribe, and watch your confidence soar.

One final thought: these are tips, not a cure. If you’re experiencing depression, please seek help. As someone who’s been there, I know it’s not easy to get out of your own way. You don’t have to go it alone.

So stay sassy, stay confident, and never forget:
You are the most beautiful woman in the world.

Friends, confidence

You're Going to Rue the Day… You Started My Dream

I’ll be completely transparent: I was let go from my 9–5 job on Monday. Most people would expect me to spiral—cue the dramatic thoughts: “Oh no! What am I going to do?” or “I can’t believe that horrible b**ch let me go. She’s going to rue the day she made that decision!”

But truthfully? I don’t feel that way at all.

Instead, I feel like a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

Prayer is a powerful thing—believe that however you will. I hadn’t prayed in a while, but Monday morning I broke the silence. I simply asked, “God, show me where my path to living a dream will take me.”
By that afternoon? Boom. I was let go.

Was it abrupt? Yes. Was the relationship working? Not really. But deep down, I knew I had been using that job as a crutch—an excuse not to pursue what truly sets my soul on fire: writing.

Since I was a little girl, I’ve dreamed of being a writer. For a long time, I thought that meant becoming a journalist. But once I realized that would involve telling other people’s stories in a rigid format, I lost interest. I wanted to write my stories. Raw, vulnerable, unfiltered. I wanted to speak truth—not conform.

But instead of chasing that dream, I did what so many of us do: I got a “real” job. I traded my calling for a paycheck. For years.

It wasn’t until 2011—post-heartbreak, searching for purpose—that I picked up the pen again. Someone told me I had talent. And in that moment, I remembered who I was. I remembered the little girl who felt most alive when she was writing.

The rest unfolded from there.

I dipped my toes into freelance work. I told pieces of my story. And now here I am: jobless, terrified, but finally pursuing my passion full-time.

This leap would not be possible without the unwavering support of the Comedian—my partner in creativity, in dreaming, in believing that we were meant to make things. He reminds me often that we weren’t put on this earth to just exist—we were made to create.

Am I still scared? Absolutely. The fear of the unknown is real. But so is my faith.

Today I read a piece on Addicted2Success.com about stepping through fear—and it hit me hard. I’ve been avoiding the very thing I now feel called to: uncertainty. But the truth is, I wasn’t made for the clock-in, clock-out life. I wasn’t built to spend 40 hours a week chasing someone else’s dream. I was made for this.

And even though I don’t know exactly what “this” looks like yet, I know it’s mine.

So no, I’m not bitter. I’m not resentful. If anything, I’m grateful—because that woman didn’t just let me go. She set me free.

Why I think Jane the Virgin is amazing!

I have a new obsession: Jane the Virgin on The CW. Maybe it's the nostalgia—it reminds me of all the novelas (Spanish soap operas) I used to watch growing up—but this show hooked me like the hungriest tuna swimming upstream. I binged it so hard, I even started googling everything about the actors. That’s when I stumbled upon a YouTube interview that truly moved me.

Gina Rodriguez, who plays Jane, spoke about how this role came into her life unexpectedly. For someone who looks like her—Latina, curly-haired, proudly herself—lead roles were few and far between. But this was her chance. During the interview, she shared a beautiful story about how her father always told her she was beautiful, no matter what the world said. That stayed with me.

What she said was powerful: you can live your dream—even if you don’t fit the mold. We’re often trapped in the idea that we’re not pretty enough, experienced enough, or "right" enough for the roles we want in life. But Gina reminded me (and hopefully so many others) that we are all beautiful and worthy in our own right.

Maybe I relate so much because I’m Puerto Rican too. I grew up around a lot of Anglos because my dad was in the military, and I always had wild, curly hair that never quite fit in. I never belonged to just one group. Gina’s story about breaking through her self-doubt and embracing her uniqueness felt deeply personal. She said that once she moved past all the noise in her head—doubt, judgment, societal expectations—everything became clear.

That’s it. The only thing holding most of us back is ourselves. Not our appearance, not our background, not what others think—just that voice in our heads telling us we can’t.

And can we give major props to Gina for winning a Golden Globe for Best Actress? This girl from Chicago, who just wanted to act, landed a lead role in a wonderfully chaotic, heartfelt, and hilarious show—and crushed it. It’s inspiring in the same way Orange Is the New Black was: bold, fresh, and beautifully diverse.

Every time I dive deeper into the world of Jane the Virgin, I fall more in love with it—and the cast. My only complaint? I’m dreading the season finale. I don’t know how I’ll survive the wait for the next episode!

The Old Role Switcheroo

I’ve noticed something in my relationship with my parents—it feels like I stepped into the parental role way too early in life. Recently, I read an article in the Chicago Tribune that confirmed this isn’t uncommon. More and more kids are becoming the “grown-ups” in their homes before they even hit adulthood. And honestly? It feels a little unfair.

I remember my own teenage years being mostly secluded. Sure, I had moments of escape, like going to band camp. But when I came home, I was expected to take care of my younger sister. It always felt like my mom either didn’t notice her misbehavior or just let her do what she wanted. And my dad? He stopped being a part of our lives when I was 14. He only resurfaced about three years ago.

By 16, I was the one keeping an eye on my sister, trying to make sure she wasn’t sneaking around with the neighbor or coming home with a hickey that my mom would notice. I felt like I had to be responsible for her, and it left me longing for something deeper with my mom—a connection I never really got.

When I finally left for college, it felt like I was doing something just for me—a bold step toward independence. But I carried a heavy guilt. After I left, things seemed to fall apart for my sister. She dropped out of high school, moved in with her boyfriend at 16, and I constantly wondered: What if I hadn’t left?

After many years of therapy—and lots of sessions with the Comedian, my in-house therapist—I’ve come to realize something important: I was too young to be anyone’s savior. I wasn’t responsible for my sister’s choices. But that early sense of responsibility shaped me. It showed up in my relationships too. I kept dating people I thought I could “fix.” (If I had a dollar for every time...)

I mean, I once picked up an ex-boyfriend from a bus stop just so we could hang out—because he “couldn’t make it all the way.” That was the norm for me. Until I met the Comedian. He was the first person who took care of me, and in return, I got to take care of him. That mutual support was a whole new experience.

The Chicago Tribune article described kids just like me:

“A straight-A student comes home and starts supper, knowing she’ll spend the evening listening to her dad talk about his troubled personal life.”

“A young beauty-pageant contestant beams at her mom, who is proud to call her daughter her best friend.”

I know people who lived this. And even as adults, it feels like our parents pull us back into those same roles—the ones where we had to grow up too fast.

That instinct to take care of everyone? It still lingers. I still catch myself wanting to fix everything for my family. But for my own well-being and sanity, I’ve learned something critical:

It’s okay to step back.

Let them figure it out sometimes. Because healing your own inner child often means releasing the need to parent everyone else.

My Year in Review

Note to self: I definitely need to blog more… but I digress.

This year has been full of big changes—ones I’m not entirely sure I would’ve made without the Comedian acting as my loving conscience.

First and foremost: After years of insisting my old car still had plenty of life left, I finally said goodbye to my 2003 Mazda Protégé and upgraded to a 2010 Toyota Corolla S. That little Mazda was my first car—the one I drove all through college. I held onto it longer than most would, despite the lack of automatic doors, windows, or even tints (yes, in Florida!). The Comedian was convinced it was going to explode every time something broke. I’d brush him off with my usual stubborn mantra: “The car still has life!” But truthfully, he was just looking out for me. When the timing and finances aligned, I finally took the leap—and no regrets there.

After Lasik surgery. No make up, popped blood vessel. It's all healed now

Second: I got Lasik surgery! I had worn glasses since I was nine and contacts since I was thirteen. Basically, I was legally blind for 21 years. I never liked how glasses looked on me, and they constantly slid down my nose. Getting Lasik was something I always wanted to do—I was just waiting for the right moment. Enter: a longtime friend and Lasik technician I trusted, who just so happened to be part of the team at Lasik Plus. I couldn’t pass it up. Today, I have 20/15 vision. My eyes still get dry occasionally, but that’s normal. And I’m not being paid to say this—I really do love waking up and being able to see the world clearly.

Our new home!

And finally… the biggest moment of all:
The Comedian and I bought a house!
It came together so quickly, it almost felt divine. I’d been dreaming of more space—for our creativity, for Rosco to roam—but I thought it was out of reach. Then one day, something told me to just start asking questions. Call it faith or intuition, but within a month—with the help of our amazing realtor Jane Sloan and the wonderful folks at Absolute Home Loans—we were homeowners.

Funny enough, my vision board (yes, inspired by The Secret) had a 1500 sq. ft. home on it. Every house we saw before this one was smaller—1200, 1300 sq. ft.—and just didn’t feel right. But then came this perfect 1400 sq. ft. house. It felt meant to be. Close enough to the dream to prove that intention and belief really can manifest into reality.

Of course, there were plenty of other highlights this year:
🎓 I started my MBA program at Florida International University
💍 The Comedian and I attended five weddings (and only one baby shower—hallelujah)
🦞 I hosted my first crawfish boil and a high school marching band reunion
💖 And we celebrated our second anniversary!

This year has been a beautiful whirlwind, and I’m so thankful for every minute of it.

Looking ahead to 2015, I’m excited. I’ll graduate with my MBA in May, attend a few more weddings, welcome my niece into the world, and who knows what else is in store?

The years may fly by, but they are filled with memories that make life so sweet.

Live in the moment. Cherish every minute.
Cheers to 2015! 🥂

Just a little bit of the past year

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 Freelance Struggle

by Sean MacEntee

Recently, I took the leap into the world of freelancing. After listening to countless podcasts and reading article after article, I decided to go against the grain and try one of those popular freelancing platforms. Let me just say—if you’re looking to get paid what you’re worth for your creativity and talent, this is not the path.

Within a week or two on the site, I quickly learned what so many others had warned about: most gigs pay pennies. Quite literally. Still, I was excited to land my first official assignment—writing 30 articles on dating advice. Right up my alley, right?

Then I did the math.

I was getting paid $1.00 per article.
One dollar.

Let that sink in.

Sure, it was my first job on the platform and I genuinely wanted to make a great impression. And to their credit, the client said my content was “amazing.” But even hearing that didn’t make it feel worth it. I knew my writing—especially on something I know so well—deserved far more value.

That’s when it hit me: I was pouring energy and talent into something that didn’t respect the craft.
And I could do so much more on my own.

So, I pivoted. I started my own website to offer real freelance writing services. A space where I could set my own rates, showcase my best work, and attract clients who actually valued what I bring to the table. If you’d like to see some of my writing or work together, you can visit me at Valerie Writes.

This isn’t just about money—it’s about freedom. I want to design a life where I can travel, create, and thrive without asking for permission to use 10 days of vacation or being told what I’m “worth” based on a corporate pay band.

Maybe I sound like a textbook Millennial—but honestly?
That’s exactly how I feel.