Posted in life, life experience, love

You Don’t Even Know My Favorite Color

Lately I’ve been wondering if I’m old-fashioned or if dating has genuinely changed that much. Maybe it’s a little of both.

For most of my adult life, dating wasn’t really at the forefront. I was raising children, building a career, paying bills, and trying to navigate whatever life decided to throw at me next. Sure, I dated here and there. I had one long, serious relationship. But if I’m being honest, my focus was somewhere else.

Now my children are adults, and for the first time in a very long time, I actually have room in my life for someone.

Not because I need someone.

Not because I’m looking for someone to save me.

And not because I’m sitting around dreaming about getting married or moving someone into my house.

I simply think it would be nice to have a person.

Someone to grab dinner with. Someone to go to concerts with. Someone to take a spontaneous weekend trip with. Someone I can call when something funny happens on the drive home from work. Not necessarily every day, because I’ve never been the type that needs constant communication, but someone who is my go-to person and for whom I am theirs.

The older I get, the more I realize that’s really what I’m looking for. Connection. Companionship. Someone to experience life with.

What surprises me is how difficult that seems to be.

Lately it feels like every conversation skips about ten chapters.

I meet someone. We exchange messages. Things seem normal. We talk about work, family, hobbies, maybe where we’re from. Then somehow, before they know anything meaningful about me, the conversation takes a hard left turn toward intimacy.

And every single time it happens, I have the same thought:

You don’t even know my favorite color.

How are we already here?

The funny thing is that I’m not a prude. Not even close. I’m a grown woman. I understand attraction. I understand chemistry. I understand that intimacy is an important part of a relationship. I don’t deny that at all.

What confuses me is why it seems to have become the starting point instead of something that develops naturally after people get to know one another.

The other day I had two separate interactions that left me scratching my head.

One was with a friend. Not even someone I was dating. Someone I’ve known, talked to, and genuinely enjoyed spending time with. Out of nowhere, the conversation crossed a line I wasn’t expecting. I remember sitting there thinking, “Wait… where did that come from?”

Then later that same day, a mutual friend added me on social media. The conversation started simple enough. We had mutual connections, he seemed familiar, and everything felt normal. Within no time at all, the conversation had turned into discussing all the things he would eventually like to do.

Eventually?

Sir, we haven’t even established whether I like pineapple on pizza.

By the end of the day I found myself wondering if this is just what dating has become.

Maybe my algorithm is listening to me. Maybe social media has me convinced everyone is experiencing the same thing. But when I scroll through my feed, I see countless people talking about modern dating, hookup culture, situationships, ghosting, and the frustration of trying to find something meaningful in a world that often seems more interested in instant gratification.

And maybe that’s what I’m struggling with.

Not that people want intimacy.

Not that attraction exists.

Not even that people have different goals.

It’s that curiosity seems to have disappeared.

Whatever happened to wanting to know someone?

What makes them laugh?

What they’ve been through?

What they care about?

What kind of life they’ve built?

What they’re afraid of?

What they’re hopeful for?

When did we stop being interested in discovering people and start trying to fast-forward to the ending?

For a long time, I would entertain those conversations even when they made me uncomfortable. Not because I wanted to have them, but because I was trying to be polite. I didn’t want to seem judgmental or uptight. I told myself maybe this was just how dating worked now.

The problem is that every time I ignored that little voice telling me something felt off, I ended up exactly where I didn’t want to be.

In situationships.

In confusion.

In relationships that never seemed to move forward.

In connections where there was plenty of chemistry but very little intention.

At some point I had to acknowledge that continuing to participate in something that wasn’t aligned with what I wanted wasn’t doing me any favors.

There’s a saying that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. If I know I want something substantial, why would I continue entertaining conversations that immediately move away from that?

The truth is, those interactions no longer fulfill me.

Maybe ten years ago I would’ve viewed them differently. Maybe I would’ve laughed them off. Maybe I would’ve convinced myself they weren’t a big deal.

Today they feel exhausting.

What makes me sad is that I don’t think most people actually want less connection. I think they want more. I think most people genuinely want companionship, loyalty, support, and someone to share life with. Yet somewhere along the way, many of us became convinced that the quickest way to connection is through physical intimacy, when in reality the strongest connections I’ve ever experienced were built through trust, friendship, vulnerability, and time.

I still believe good people exist.

I still believe there are men who value getting to know a woman before trying to sleep with her.

I still believe there are people looking for something real.

What I struggle with sometimes is finding those people in the middle of all the noise.

Maybe I am old-fashioned.

Maybe I missed the memo.

Or maybe wanting someone to know my heart before discussing my body isn’t old-fashioned at all.

Maybe it’s exactly the kind of connection I’ve been looking for all along.

I don’t know.

What I do know is that if we’re discussing intimacy before you know my favorite color, we’re probably moving a little too fast.

Posted in life, life experience

Somewhere Between Hope and Expectation

Every day I find myself less and less trying to manipulate outcomes. I guess I needed to finally get here. It’s funny because for the longest time I thought this lesson was mostly about relationships. Learning not to force things, not to chase answers, and not to try to control how people show up in my life. The more I think about it though, the more I realize it has very little to do with relationships and a lot to do with life in general.

What I’ve noticed is that just when I think I’ve finally learned how to let go, life shows me another area where I’m still holding on.

And usually it’s somewhere I wasn’t expecting.

Lately, that has looked like me questioning the difference between hope and expectation. Part of me feels like I shouldn’t hope for things because hope can create expectations, and expectations often lead to disappointment. The other part of me thinks that without hope, what are we really looking forward to? Hope is what gets us excited about the future. It’s what helps us believe there are good things ahead even when we can’t see them yet.

I recently went on a trip and had an entire idea in my head about how the weekend would go. I wasn’t trying to manipulate anything or control anyone. I wasn’t sitting there with an agenda. I was simply hopeful. The reality, however, was different. There were competing attitudes, different personalities, tension at times, and moments that were honestly more stressful than I expected. Looking back, I can genuinely say I had a good time. There were great memories made, plenty of laughs, and moments I enjoyed.

Yet somehow the stressful moments seem to stand out more than they should.

As I’ve reflected on it, I’ve found myself wondering if the disappointment came from the trip itself or from the fact that it didn’t match the version I had already created in my head. I don’t really know the answer. What I do know is that this isn’t just about a vacation. There are a lot of areas in my life right now where I don’t know what’s next. There are things I’m praying about, things I’m hopeful for, and things I’d genuinely like to see happen.

The uncertainty can be uncomfortable.

Especially for someone who spent a lot of years trying to stay one step ahead of disappointment.

Maybe the lesson isn’t to stop hoping. Maybe the lesson is learning how to hope without becoming attached to a specific outcome. Maybe it’s okay to want things, pray for things, and look forward to things while still accepting that life may unfold differently than we imagined. I’m starting to think there is a difference between saying, “This is what I would love to happen,” and saying, “This is what has to happen for me to be okay.”

That’s the part I’m still learning.

I don’t have some profound answer or life-changing conclusion. If I’m being honest, I’m still trying to figure it out. What I do know is that life seems to keep asking me to loosen my grip a little more than I’m comfortable with. Maybe that’s what trust actually is. Not giving up on hope, but letting go of the need to control how the story unfolds.

Maybe peace isn’t found in knowing what’s coming next.

Maybe peace is trusting that whatever comes next, you’ll be okay.

Posted in life, life experience, love, Self Improvement

I Think I Finally Understand What I Need

Sometimes the most important conversations happen over a simple glass of wine with someone who knows you better than almost anyone else in the world.

My brother and I were sitting there talking about life, relationships, marriage, and the people we’ve loved throughout the years. We started talking about his past relationships, and I remember saying something that I genuinely believe is true:

There’s really nothing wrong with most people. Some people just aren’t meant for you.

There’s an old saying that there’s “an ass for every seat,” and honestly, as funny as it sounds, there’s truth to it. The qualities that may completely drain one person might be exactly what someone else is looking for.

Some people want a relationship that’s deeply intentional. They want plans. Effort. Consistency. Growth. They want partnership in every sense of the word.

Other people want freedom. Spontaneity. A “we’ll figure it out later” kind of life. They want someone who doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t need structure, and is perfectly happy floating through life one day at a time.

Neither person is wrong.

They’re just wrong for each other.

And somehow that conversation turned toward me.

I started talking about my last relationship. Three years with someone I still think is one of the kindest human beings I’ve ever met. Truly. He was good to me. There was no cheating scandal, no toxicity, no dramatic ending.

And then my brother interrupted me.

He said, “But he didn’t elevate you.”

I sat there quietly for a second because the truth hit me immediately.

He continued, “You got bored because he wasn’t pushing himself to grow, and he wasn’t pushing you to grow either.”

And honestly? That changed something in me.

Because when I really thought about it, I realized that throughout my life, I’ve always been the motivator in relationships. I’ve been the cheerleader. The one pushing people toward more. Encouraging them to dream bigger, do better, become more.

But very few people have ever done that for me.

I don’t say that arrogantly. I say it honestly.

I’ve spent my entire life trying to become a better version of myself. Not because I need to compete with anyone else, but because growth fulfills me. I like learning. I like evolving. I like proving to myself that I can reach new levels mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually, and professionally.

That mindset is what allowed me to build a career, raise two amazing kids, carry responsibilities that would crush some people, and still wake up every morning wanting more out of life.

Not more money.

More purpose.
More growth.
More life.

And I’ve realized something difficult but necessary:

I can no longer connect deeply with complacency.

Some people are perfectly content staying exactly where they are forever. And honestly, that’s okay. There is nothing wrong with that.

But those people are not my people.

What drains me isn’t supporting someone. I love supporting people. What drains me is carrying someone who has no desire to carry themselves.

At some point in several relationships, I stopped feeling like a partner and started feeling like the engine. The motivator. The emotional support system. The planner. The encourager. The person constantly pouring energy outward while nobody was pouring back into me.

And eventually something always happened:
The moment I needed time for myself, time to refocus, level up, think, train harder, work harder, grow more, suddenly it became a threat.

Suddenly it turned into insecurity.

“You’re going to meet someone else.”
“I’m not good enough.”
“You’re changing.”

No.
I was growing.

And there’s a difference.

The right people won’t be intimidated by your growth.
They’ll be inspired by it.
They’ll match it.
They’ll add to it.

That conversation with my brother made me realize that dating intentionally has less to do with finding someone attractive, successful, or charming, and more to do with finding someone aligned.

Someone who wants more out of life too.
Someone who refuses to stay stagnant.
Someone who believes growth never stops.
Someone who understands that love should feel like expansion, not limitation.

I don’t need someone to rescue me.
I’ve built a beautiful life on my own.

But if someone is going to stand beside me, they need to add to my life, not drain it. Together we should be stronger next year than we are today. Healthier. Happier. More evolved. More grounded.

That’s the kind of relationship I want now.

And honestly, maybe that conversation was exactly what I needed to hear at exactly the right time.

Because as this new week starts, I’m refocusing again.

Refocusing on my health.
My mindset.
My goals.
My discipline.
My future.
My peace.

And maybe most importantly, refocusing on the kind of energy I allow into my life.

I want people around me who elevate me.
People who challenge me.
People who inspire me.
People who are just as hungry for growth mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually as I am.

Because I’ve finally realized something important:

Love alone is not enough if the relationship costs you your growth.

Posted in life experience, love

It’s Me Again, May Has a Way of Doing This

There’s something about May.

Every year around this time, I feel it creeping in. Not loneliness, not exactly. It’s more like a quiet craving. A reminder. A pull toward companionship. The kind that doesn’t feel heavy or forced, just right.

And I think it hits harder now because I know what I want.

Not in a checklist kind of way. In a clarity kind of way.

I don’t want someone to complete me. I’ve done the work to build a life I’m proud of. I’m financially stable. I have my routine, my peace, my independence. I’m not looking to be saved, and I’m definitely not looking to carry someone else either.

I just want someone who fits into this life.

Someone who wants me in their life, not needs me to be their entire world.

Because if I’m honest, what I keep running into is one extreme or the other. It’s either the guy who wants to merge lives immediately, where suddenly there’s no space to breathe, or the one who’s so detached you’re left wondering if you even exist to them.

And I’m over both.

There has to be a middle. There has to be someone who knows how to show up and still stand on their own.

Someone who has their own life, their own responsibilities, their own sense of self, but still wants to share moments.

Simple moments.

Like today. A perfect Florida day. The kind that makes you want to be near the water, feel the sun, maybe hop on a boat, maybe go fishing, maybe just exist outside with someone whose energy feels easy.

That’s what I want.

Not complicated. Not intense. Not forced.

Just good.

I think about the kind of life I started building years ago, before life did what life does and things changed. And it’s not about going backward, it’s about recognizing that I’m still someone who wants to share life like that again.

With the right person.

Someone around my age. Someone who takes care of himself. And I’m going to say this plainly because I’ve learned not to dance around it, I want a man who values his health. Who moves his body. Who cares how he shows up in the world.

Not a gym obsessed, three hours a day, nothing else going on type.

But someone who gets it.

Someone who understands why I go to the gym, why I value feeling good, being active, staying strong, not just physically, but mentally too.

I want a partner I can live life with, not someone I have to drag along or slow down for.

And yes, attraction matters. Chemistry matters. Energy matters. That doesn’t make me shallow, it makes me honest.

At this point in my life, I’m not interested in forcing something that doesn’t feel natural.

I’m also not interested in pretending I don’t want a relationship.

Because I do.

I just want one that feels free.

Where I can be me. He can be him. And we choose each other without losing ourselves in the process.

A relationship where we add to each other’s lives, not take over them.

And I don’t think it’s too much to ask for the right person.

Not perfect. Not some fantasy.

Just right for me.

So here I am, in May again, feeling it, acknowledging it, and being honest about it.

I’m open.

But I’m not settling.

Posted in Career, inner peace, inspiration, life, life experience, Work

Choosing Me, Finally

Yesterday I wrote a blog in third person. It felt easier to tell the story that way, a little more removed, a little less vulnerable. But the truth is, that story was mine.

For a long time, I’ve lived in a way where I made sure everyone around me was comfortable, even if it meant I wasn’t. I wouldn’t call myself a people pleaser, but I can recognize now that I didn’t say no when I should have. I overextended myself, especially at work, giving time and energy that should have gone to me and my family. I showed up, I pushed through, and I carried more than I should have, because that’s what I thought I was supposed to do.

At 45, I can finally admit something I’ve never really said out loud before, I’m tired.

Back on December 26, I made a commitment to myself to start living with intention. I wanted to complain less and be more appreciative of what I have. And I did that. I focused on gratitude, on shifting my mindset, on being present. But what I started to realize is that gratitude doesn’t mean ignoring what’s draining you.

Yes, I’m grateful I have a job. I’m grateful I can pay my bills. But the reality is, it came at the cost of my mental health. I was in a role where I could never fully exhale. Every day felt like putting out fires, and not the kind that just happen, but the kind that felt constant, repetitive, and preventable. It was exhausting.

The idea of “unlimited PTO” sounds great in theory, but in practice, it wasn’t real time off. I never truly disconnected. Even when I stepped away, I knew I’d come back to more work than I left, because no one else knew how to do what I did. There was no coverage, no backup. So time off just meant delaying the inevitable and coming back to double or triple the workload, plus whatever new issues came up in the meantime. It felt like constantly treading water, like trying to move forward while stuck in mud.

And just when I thought I might get a moment to breathe, another major implementation was planned, right in the middle of summer. My son’s last summer before his senior year, a time I’ll never get back. And I already knew what that would look like for me. Long hours, constant pressure, being pulled into something all-consuming with no real support. The thought of missing that time with him weighed on me more than I can explain.

That’s when it became harder to sit in gratitude, because I realized that in order to stay “positive,” I was asking myself to ignore chaos that was actively draining me.

Around that same time, an opportunity came up. It checked every box I’ve ever written about. It’s close to home, the commute alone will give me back hours of my life every day. But more importantly, it’s meaningful. I’ll be working in an environment where I’m supporting people who are saving lives. After years of building processes from scratch, cleaning up messes, and operating in constant reaction mode, I now get to contribute to something that already has structure, something I can build on rather than constantly repair.

And the biggest difference, I already feel valued, and I haven’t even started yet.

That feeling made me reflect on something else. In 20 years, I’ve never really given myself a break between roles. I’ve gone from one position straight into the next, always in high-demand, high-pressure environments. I’ve never stopped long enough to reset.

So this time, I’m doing something different.

I made the decision that today will be my last day.

Not out of anger, even though there are parts of this experience that hurt. Not out of spite. But from a place of clarity and self-awareness. I needed to be sure that this decision came from choosing myself, not reacting emotionally.

I will do what I’ve always done, I will make sure things are as organized as possible. I’ll finalize what I can, document what’s needed, and support the transition in every way I’m able to. That’s who I am, and that doesn’t change.

But when I log off today, I’m done.

I’m going to go home, exhale, and give myself something I haven’t had in a long time, space.

This next week isn’t about doing nothing. It’s about doing things that fill me. Maybe I’ll paint a bathroom, maybe I’ll deep clean my house, maybe I’ll take my dogs to the park or spend time by the water. Whatever I choose, it will be intentional, and it will be for me.

What I’ve come to understand through all of this is that we spend so much time pouring into everyone else that we forget it’s our responsibility to pour into ourselves. And then we feel empty and wonder why.

I wasn’t raised to leave people hanging. I care deeply, and I take pride in the work that I do. But constantly putting myself last isn’t a strength, it’s a pattern I had to break.

I also recognize now that some of the situations I’ve found myself in were choices I made. I ignored red flags. I prioritized salary and status over alignment and peace. And while those choices brought experience and growth, they also came with a cost.

Money will always come. Titles will always come.

But your time, your peace, your presence with the people you love, those are things you don’t get back.

So this time, I’m choosing differently.

I’m choosing peace. I’m choosing intention. And most importantly, I’m choosing me.

And for the first time in a long time, that choice feels exactly right.