Author: affirmationofvisions

Hi, I’m Mercy. Life has taken me through many seasons, some beautiful, some painful, and many that reshaped me in ways I never could have planned. Over a decade ago, I began writing as a way to survive a difficult chapter of my life. Since then, my journey has expanded, deepened, and taken more turns than I ever imagined. Today, my children are adults, and I find myself in a new season, one of reflection, intention, and rediscovery. I’m no longer building life from the ground up, but rather learning how to live it with presence and purpose. This space has evolved with me. What I write about now isn’t about chasing happiness or manifesting a perfect future. It’s about learning how to stay grounded in the present. It’s about faith over fear, gratitude over anxiety, and choosing intention in a world that constantly pulls us in every direction. It’s about growth, real, imperfect, human growth. I’ve learned that life doesn’t move in straight lines. It loops, pauses, reroutes, and sometimes asks us to begin again, just from a wiser place. Writing has remained my anchor through all of it. It helps me slow down, make sense of my thoughts, and reconnect with what matters most. This blog is a collection of reflections from someone still becoming. I don’t write as an expert or a coach with all the answers. I write as a woman who has lived, learned, stumbled, healed, and continues to choose intention, one day at a time. If you’re here, maybe you’re in a season of your own, letting go, starting over, or simply learning how to breathe a little deeper. Wherever you are, I hope these words remind you that growth doesn’t have an expiration date, and peace is something we practice, not something we arrive at. I’m glad you found your way here.
Posted in life, life experience

The Unexpected Joy of Not Giving Everything My Energy

Posted on by affirmationofvisions

Something interesting has happened to me over the last year, and I don’t think I fully realized it until recently.

I’ve become incredibly calm.

And I don’t mean that life has suddenly become perfect, or that I don’t have things to worry about. Believe me, I do. But the way I respond to those things has changed so much that sometimes I barely recognize myself.

I used to stress over the most mundane things. Things I couldn’t control, things that hadn’t even happened yet, things that, looking back, probably didn’t deserve five minutes of my attention, much less hours of my peace. And now? Somehow, I’ve learned to be okay with not knowing what’s next.

There are still nights when I’ll randomly wake up at 3 a.m. and my brain decides it’s the perfect time to introduce some completely unnecessary anxiety. You know, because apparently there’s no better time to contemplate life’s problems than when the rest of the world is sleeping. But something about my response has changed. I literally tell myself, “Give it to God and go back to sleep.”

And I do.

Because really, what am I going to solve at three in the morning? What situation is going to improve because I decided to sacrifice a perfectly good night’s sleep worrying about something I can’t do a damn thing about at that moment? It sounds so simple, but I don’t think I’ve always been capable of doing that.

I’ve leaned heavily into my faith lately. Not in a way where I expect everything to go my way, but in a way where I’ve genuinely started trusting that even when things don’t work out the way I hoped, there’s still something to be gained from the experience.

When I look back at my life, I can connect so many dots. Something happened that led to something else. A disappointment redirected me somewhere I never expected. A situation I thought was terrible at the time introduced me to someone or something that ended up being important to my life. Even the things I wish hadn’t happened taught me something. It’s almost fascinating when you think about it. Every single experience, good or bad, has somehow contributed to the person I am today.

And I’ve started sharing that perspective with my kids more and more. Whatever you’re stressing about right now, you’re going to be okay. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not the way you imagined. But somehow, you’re going to be okay.

And if it’s not okay, then maybe the story isn’t finished yet.

I don’t say that because I think life is magically going to work itself out without effort. I say it because I’ve lived long enough to see how often something that felt like the end of the world was actually the beginning of an entirely different chapter.

Another interesting part of this whole experience is that I’ve stopped drinking alcohol. Not because I had some dramatic moment or made a grand announcement. I simply reached a point where I didn’t want it anymore.

The last time I drank was at my son’s 21st birthday, and even then, it wasn’t an experience I particularly enjoyed. I wasn’t drunk. Nothing terrible happened. I just realized I wasn’t getting anything out of it. And the longer I’ve gone without alcohol, the more I’ve noticed something.

The noise in my head has gotten quieter.

I think there were times in my life when having a drink was a way to escape a little. To shut things off, unwind, or temporarily silence whatever was going on in my mind. And there’s absolutely no judgment toward anyone who drinks. Different strokes for different folks. I’m just speaking about my own experience.

But what’s interesting is that I no longer feel like I need something to help me enjoy life or escape from it. I just live it. I allow myself to feel whatever I’m feeling. If something makes me sad, I can be sad. If I’m frustrated, I can be frustrated. If I’m worried, I acknowledge it. But I no longer feel the need to sit in those emotions indefinitely. They come, they go, and life continues.

And physically? My goodness, the difference I’ve noticed. But even that brings me to another realization. For probably the first time in my life, I’m genuinely taking care of my body because I appreciate it, not because I’m trying to make it look a certain way.

Of course, I enjoy looking better. I’m human. I’m not going to pretend I don’t appreciate the physical changes. But something about my motivation is different now. I’ve started looking at my body as something God gave me that deserves to be cared for. The food I eat, the water I drink, the way I exercise, the way I rest, the way I speak to myself, and even the way I dress.

I’ve invested in myself in ways I probably wouldn’t have before. I’ve bought new clothes, put more thought into how I present myself, and made a genuine effort to feel good about the woman looking back at me in the mirror. Not because I wasn’t good enough before, but because maybe I wasn’t fully appreciating myself before. And I think there’s a difference.

There’s something really beautiful about reaching a point where you’re no longer trying to change yourself because you dislike who you are. You’re making changes because you’ve finally realized you’re worth the effort.

And perhaps that’s where some of this peace is coming from. Maybe it’s the faith. Maybe it’s not drinking. Maybe it’s the attention I’ve given my physical and emotional health. Maybe it’s the accumulation of all the lessons life has taught me. Or maybe it’s all of it. I don’t really know.

What I do know is that my mind is quieter than it’s ever been. That doesn’t mean I don’t experience stress. I absolutely do. But now, when something happens, I give myself a moment to feel whatever I need to feel, and then I start thinking about what I can actually do about it. If there’s a solution, I work toward it. If it’s out of my hands, I let it be. And if I don’t know what comes next, I’ve learned that I don’t necessarily need to know right now.

It’s such a different way of living. Sometimes I wonder, is this what adulting is supposed to feel like? Because I know plenty of adults who are still walking around like human stress balls. I work with some of them. LOL.

I’m certainly not suggesting I’ve figured out some secret to life or that I’ll never have another difficult season. But for the first time in a very long time, I’m not waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m not trying to predict what’s coming next, and I’m not losing sleep over things I can’t control.

I’m just genuinely happy with where I am, who I’m becoming, and the peace I’ve found along the way. And if you had told the younger version of me that one day her mind would be this quiet, she probably wouldn’t have believed you.

But here we are.

And God, does it feel good.

Posted in life, life experience, love

What Heartbreak Shouldn’t Take From You

Posted on by affirmationofvisions

I know some of my writing lately has probably sounded like I’m tooting my own horn about my kids. I’m really not. I think I’m just at this stage where they’re old enough to show me who they’ve become, and every once in a while one of them says something that makes me realize, Wow. They really were listening.

Today was one of those days.

Last year, my son dated someone he really cared about. He went into it with his whole heart. He planned beautiful dates, opened doors, was thoughtful, brought her around his family and gave her a real place in his life. He did all the things that came naturally to him when he cared about someone.

But somehow, he constantly felt like none of it was enough.

When it ended, he was devastated. I remember him going back to school telling me he would never do it again. No more beautiful dates. No more going above and beyond. No more letting someone that far into his life. He wasn’t going to be that guy anymore.

And I got angry.

Not at him, but because someone had hurt him badly enough to make him believe that the problem was how he loved.

I remember telling him, absolutely not. You are not going to let one person change the man you are.

And maybe I felt so strongly about it because I knew exactly what happens to the person who comes next.

I feel like I have spent much of my adult life being that person. I’ve met men after the heartbreak, after the betrayal, after the woman who made them decide they would never give that much again. Then I came along wanting something pretty simple: someone who was proud to have me in his life, who wanted me around his family, planned a date sometimes, was romantic, made memories with me and, in time, wasn’t afraid to give me a real place in his world.

No whirlwind. No instant promises. Just someone willing to eventually love me without making me pay for what somebody else did.

And so many times, I met people who had already decided they weren’t doing that anymore.

For a long time, it made me wonder if I was just hard to love. As I’ve gotten older, I realize that isn’t it. I know what I bring into someone’s life, and I know how much love I have to give. I just kept meeting people who were afraid to give theirs again.

That’s what I needed my son to understand.

Take your time. Be selective. Make people earn access to the deepest parts of you. Learn the difference between chemistry and character and pay attention to how someone treats your heart.

But don’t change your heart because somebody mishandled it.

Because someday another woman may come along who had absolutely nothing to do with what happened to you. She may have spent years hoping to meet exactly the kind of man you are. How unfair would it be for her to finally find you and receive half of you because somebody before her didn’t appreciate the whole?

Today, almost a year later, my son told me about a conversation he had with a friend. He said he found himself giving him the same advice I had given him.

He told him that he had learned to take his time and be more careful about who he gives his heart to, but he will never let someone change the way he loves. When he chooses someone, he is going to love the way he loves, and if that’s too much for her, then she isn’t his person.

That made me proud.

Not because I had all the answers, but because he understood the difference between learning from hurt and becoming hurt.

And maybe that’s the part worth sharing.

So many of us meet someone after someone else has broken them. We end up trying to prove that we’re different, trying to earn things we never took away in the first place, and accepting half-love because somebody before us made them afraid to give the whole thing again.

Then we get hurt.

And if we’re not careful, we do the exact same thing to the next person.

At some point, somebody has to break that cycle.

Protect your heart. Take your time. Have boundaries. Walk away when someone shows you they aren’t deserving of what you have to give.

But if you aren’t ready to love someone, don’t invite them into your life and make them pay for wounds they didn’t create.

And when you are ready, love like yourself.

Whoever hurt you already took enough.

Don’t let them take the best parts of you too.

Posted in inner peace, inspiration, life, parenting

Turns Out, They Were Watching

Posted on by affirmationofvisions

Parenting is funny because you spend years repeating yourself, correcting things, worrying about whether they are listening to a damn thing you say, and then every once in a while they do something that makes you realize they were paying attention the entire time.

Maybe not when you told them to clean their room. Definitely not when you told them for the 47th time to put something back where they found it. But the important stuff? Somehow, that got through.

I wrote recently about always making my kids a priority, and I realized there is another side to why I have always been that way.

I wanted to raise men who care about people.

Not just men who are successful, responsible, independent and capable of taking care of themselves. Obviously, I wanted all of that too. But I also wanted them to understand love, empathy and the value of showing up for people.

One of the things I love most about my mom is that at 45 years old, I still know I have my mom.

There is something incredibly comforting about knowing there is a person in this world you can call and you don’t have to calculate whether you’re asking too much. You don’t have to wonder if you’re inconveniencing them. You don’t have to earn their support. You just know they’re there.

My boys have always had that with me.

And before anyone takes that to mean I raised two spoiled men who think Mommy is going to come rescue them from every bad decision they make, absolutely not. 😂 If you created the problem yourself, we may first have a brief discussion about how exactly we arrived here.

But if you genuinely need me? I’m coming.

This weekend I got to see what that looks like when it comes back around.

I was in Boston visiting my son and was supposed to fly home Sunday evening. My flight was canceled, and what followed was basically an airport hostage situation. Hours at the airport, two hours waiting to get my checked bag back, trying to find another flight home, and eventually booking one for 5:00 the next morning.

By the time I figured everything out, my son had already driven around all day and had finally made it back to his dorm. He had an early day the next morning, and my new flight was boarding at 4:30 a.m.

I did the math.

If he drove the 30 minutes back to get me, took me to his dorm, and then brought me back to the airport, this poor kid was basically going to take a nap and call it a night’s sleep.

So I told him absolutely not.

I would buy myself a blanket, find a spot in the airport and sleep there. Was it glamorous? No. Was I thrilled about sleeping at Logan Airport like I had suddenly become an unwilling contestant on Survivor: Terminal C? Also no. But I wasn’t going to make him do all of that for me.

His answer was immediate.

“Mom, absolutely not. I cannot leave you at an airport. You would never do that to me, and I will never do that to you.”

Well.

There goes my airport blanket plan.

He had literally just gotten back to his dorm, and that poor boy turned around, drove all the way back to get me, brought me to his dorm, slept for maybe two hours, got back up and drove me right back to the airport.

No attitude. No complaining. No making me feel like I had ruined his night.

And somewhere between being exhausted, annoyed at the universe and wondering why I apparently needed three separate forms of transportation just to get from Boston to Miami, I had this moment of realizing:

This is it.

This is why I parented the way I did.

Not so my children would feel indebted to me one day. Not so they would grow up and “take care of Mom.” I have my own life, and I fully expect them to have theirs.

I did it because I wanted them to understand that people matter.

I wanted them to know that sometimes love is inconvenient.

Sometimes love is a 30-minute drive you really don’t feel like making.

Sometimes love is two hours of sleep.

Sometimes love is saying, “I’m coming to get you,” even when the person you love is insisting they’ll be fine.

We spend so much time trying to teach our kids through words, but I don’t think that’s how they learn most of this.

They learn how to love by how they were loved.

They learn empathy because someone cared about how they felt.

They learn to show up because someone kept showing up for them.

They learn that time is valuable because someone willingly gave them theirs.

My mom gave that to me. I gave it to my boys. And apparently, while I was busy wondering whether they were listening all these years, they were watching.

There are plenty of things I probably got wrong as a mother. Every parent has those.

But standing in Logan Airport at an ungodly hour, running on almost no sleep, I realized there is one thing I know I got right.

I raised men who show up.

And I’ll take that win.

Posted in life, life experience, love

Some Choices Make More Sense Years Later

Posted on by affirmationofvisions

I overheard a conversation recently that really had nothing to do with me, but it stayed with me long after it was over. It was about custody schedules, relationships, traveling, and trying to figure out how all of those pieces fit together. Nothing particularly dramatic, just real life. But at some point, I found myself thinking, This. This is exactly why I made some of the choices I made when my kids were little.

I spent most of my children’s childhood single. And when I say that, I don’t mean I never dated. I did. I met people, went to dinner, and tried at different points to make room for that part of my life. But there was always one problem: my children were completely non-negotiable.

I don’t just mean that in the obvious way that most parents would say their children come first. I mean their time with me was non-negotiable. Their access to me was non-negotiable. If they needed me, I was going. I can remember being on a date and getting a call that one of my kids wasn’t feeling well and wanted to come home to me. There was never a debate in my head about what I should do or a thought of, But I already have plans. My plans changed.

Eventually, I realized something that I actually think was very fair to everyone involved. I probably wasn’t capable of being a great partner during that season of my life, because another person deserves to matter too. They deserve someone who can occasionally choose them, someone who can make plans and protect those plans, and someone who can build a life with them without constantly making them feel like they are in second place. With me, during those years, they would have been. Every single time.

That doesn’t make me a better mother than someone who chose differently. It doesn’t mean divorced parents shouldn’t date, fall in love, remarry, travel, or build beautiful blended families. Plenty of people do exactly that and raise incredibly happy children. This is simply something I knew about myself and what I was capable of giving at that point in my life.

When I decided to become a mother, I did it believing I was building a family where my children would be with me every day. I never imagined divorce. I never imagined custody schedules, and I certainly never imagined having to negotiate pieces of their childhood around another relationship. Divorce changed that reality for me, so when their father had his time with them, I respected it. But I never wanted to start looking at the time I had with them as something I needed to rearrange so my romantic life could be more convenient.

There were times people didn’t understand that. Why couldn’t the kids just stay with their dad an extra night? Why couldn’t I change weekends? Why couldn’t I make a trip work? Why couldn’t someone else keep them? Technically, I probably could have done all of those things. I just didn’t want to.

What I didn’t fully understand then was how quickly those years were disappearing. There would eventually be plenty of Friday nights when nobody needed me. There would eventually be weekends when nobody was asking what we were doing. There would eventually be vacations they couldn’t take because they had school, work, girlfriends, friends, responsibilities, and lives of their own. There would eventually be a time when I could get on a plane without coordinating anyone else’s schedule.

I live in that time now.

And maybe that’s why that conversation stayed with me. Looking back, I understand something I probably couldn’t fully articulate then: I wasn’t putting my life on hold for my children. That was my life. Being their mom wasn’t the thing keeping me from living. It was the thing I had chosen to live fully during that season.

Of course there were sacrifices attached to that choice. Maybe I missed relationships that could have become something. Maybe there were people who would have loved me well. Maybe there were trips I could have taken, dinners I could have attended, and experiences I could have had. I’ll never really know, but I know what I did have.

I had ordinary Tuesdays. I had sick kids crawling into my bed. I had Friday nights when nobody had anywhere better to be. I had rides in the car, dinners at home, ridiculous conversations, last-minute plans, and the thousand completely unremarkable moments that somehow become the ones you miss the most.

Now my kids are grown. They don’t need me the way they once did, and my time belongs mostly to me again. I can date. I can travel. I can make plans without checking a custody calendar. I can build a relationship differently today because I’m in a completely different season of motherhood.

Strangely enough, I don’t look back at those years and feel like I lost anything. If anything, hearing that conversation made me realize how certain I still am about the choice I made. I didn’t choose being alone because I didn’t believe in love. I chose not to force romantic love into a season of my life where I knew I wasn’t willing to give it the space it deserved.

My children had that space, and for me, that was exactly where it belonged.

Posted in life, life experience, love, Self Improvement

Sometimes the Kindest Thing Is a No

Posted on by affirmationofvisions

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about honesty.

Not the dramatic kind. Not confess-your-deepest-secrets honesty. Just the very simple kind where you stop trying to manage everyone else’s feelings long enough to be honest about your own.

And apparently, I’m still learning this one.

I’ve realized that one of my patterns over the years has been staying in things longer than I should because I don’t want to hurt someone.

I’ve continued conversations I already knew weren’t going anywhere. I’ve gone on another date because someone was nice and I thought, What’s the harm? I’ve convinced myself that maybe attraction would grow, maybe I was being too picky, maybe I should give someone more of a chance.

And sometimes that “one more chance” has turned into a lot more than one more chance.

I once stayed in a relationship for two and a half years that, if I’m being completely truthful with myself, started with me trying to talk myself into feelings that weren’t really there.

Two and a half years.

That’s a pretty long time to learn that lesson.

And the person wasn’t a bad person. That’s actually what makes these situations harder. It’s easy to walk away when someone treats you terribly. It’s much harder when they’re kind. When they’re interested. When conversation is easy. When you can see all the reasons you should like them.

Except your gut quietly keeps saying, But I don’t.

Recently, I found myself standing at the beginning of that familiar road again.

There was good conversation. A genuinely good person. Nothing “wrong” that I could point to. I enjoyed spending time with him.

But I knew.

There wasn’t a romantic connection for me.

And the old version of me probably would have kept talking. Maybe gone out again. Let things play out a little longer because I knew the other person was interested and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

Except I’ve finally realized something:

Leading someone on because you don’t want to hurt them isn’t actually kindness.

It’s just delayed hurt.

And usually, it’s worse later.

Because eventually a relationship needs more than two people who think highly of each other. Attraction matters. Chemistry matters. Wanting to touch someone matters. Wanting them to touch you matters. That doesn’t make anyone shallow.

I think we’ve heard “it’s what’s on the inside that counts” so many times that we’re almost afraid to admit that attraction has a place too.

Of course the inside matters. To me, it matters first.

Do I like who you are as a human being? Are you kind? Do I respect you? Can we talk? Can we laugh? Do I feel safe being myself around you?

But somewhere shortly after that comes another question:

Am I attracted to you?

And I don’t mean, Would other people think you’re attractive?

Those are two completely different questions.

Someone can be objectively good-looking and do absolutely nothing for you. Someone else may not fit anyone’s definition of a supermodel and somehow you can’t stop looking at them.

Attraction is personal. And it doesn’t require a defense.

What I’m learning is that I don’t have to turn someone into a villain to justify not wanting a relationship with them.

That’s been a big one for me.

Nothing has to be wrong.

They don’t have to say something terrible. They don’t have to disappoint me. They don’t have to give me a reason to leave.

Sometimes the reason is simply:

This isn’t it for me.

And that’s enough.

So instead of slowly pulling away, becoming less responsive, hoping the other person would figure it out, or continuing something because I felt guilty, I chose honesty.

Kind honesty.

The kind that says, I enjoyed spending time with you. I think you’re a genuinely good person. But I don’t feel a romantic connection, and I don’t want to continue talking in a way that makes you believe this is heading somewhere that I know, in my heart, it isn’t.

Was that probably disappointing to hear?

Yes.

But disappointment isn’t cruelty.

And I think I’ve confused those two things before.

I’ve been on the other side too. I’ve wondered why someone’s energy changed. I’ve replayed conversations trying to figure out what I said. I’ve wondered what happened between Tuesday, when everything seemed great, and Thursday, when suddenly I was getting responses that felt like they were coming from a customer service representative.

That uncertainty can mess with you far more than a simple truth.

Tell me I’m not your type.

Tell me the chemistry isn’t there.

Tell me you’re looking for something different.

Tell me you like me as a person but don’t see me romantically.

Will my ego love it?

Probably not.

But give me a couple of hours. I’ll survive.

What I don’t want anymore, on either side, is ambiguity created solely because someone is afraid to be honest.

Now, I still reserve the right to disappear when somebody says something so wildly inappropriate that my only reasonable response is to return myself to the witness protection program.

Growth has limits.

But when someone has been respectful and genuine with me, I want to offer that same respect back.

Because I’m trying to live more intentionally now, and I think intention applies to dating too. I don’t want to keep saying yes because no feels uncomfortable. I don’t want to occupy someone’s time while secretly knowing I can’t give them what they’re looking for. And I definitely don’t want to occupy my own time that way either. Because here’s the other part of this that I hadn’t really considered before:

Every time I stay in something I already know isn’t right because I’m afraid to hurt someone’s feelings, I’m also delaying my own life.

I’m filling space.

I’m giving energy to something I already know I don’t want and then wondering why what I do want hasn’t found its way to me.

I don’t know what my future looks like. I don’t know who I’ll eventually meet or when I’ll meet him.

But I do know I’m no longer interested in prolonging my destiny by staying in situations my gut has already answered for me.

Sometimes living with intention isn’t about knowing exactly what you want.

Sometimes it’s simply having enough courage to say:

This is good.

You’re good.

But this isn’t mine.

And maybe that’s not rejection as much as it is respect, for both people.