Posted in inspiration, life, life experience, love

Day 21 — A Reflection on Self-Awareness and Peace

Today marks Day 21 in this self-reflection and self-awareness journey I’ve been on. I have the next three days off, originally intended for a trip to Boston to bring my son home from school. But life, in its beautiful unpredictability, allowed me to organize things differently. I didn’t have to go. And rather than giving those days back to work, I chose to keep them for myself. To pause. To breathe. To reflect.

It’s kind of wild when I sit and realize how much quieter the negative self-talk in my mind has become. The silence is unfamiliar but deeply welcome. I find myself okay, genuinely okay, just sitting in the lobby of life’s waiting room, not knowing what’s next, but no longer consumed by the uncertainty. There’s a peace in being present that I never used to feel.

I’ve been journaling a lot. And while I’m not going to pretend these reflective days are void of anxiety, there’s something magical in rereading past entries. I flip back a few days and see my own words, full of fear, doubt, or spiraling thoughts, and I realize how much of it was self-fabricated. Stories I told myself that never actually happened. Worries that never materialized. Reactions I didn’t need to have.

There’s one particular shift I’m proud of: instead of voicing every anxious thought to the person I’m dating or venting to my mom, who, as a parent, just ends up carrying my worry like it’s her own, I’ve turned to the page. And in doing so, I’ve stopped creating chaos around me that didn’t actually exist. My life isn’t chaotic. I just didn’t know how to sit with my emotions without offloading them onto someone else.

One entry I wrote on May 5 really stuck with me. I admitted something hard to say out loud: I have a tendency to be a “one-upper.” Not in the competitive sense, but in conversations with people I care about, especially someone I’m dating, I’d feel the need to share my own story in response to theirs. It wasn’t to overshadow them, but to relate. To say, “I see you, I’ve been there too.” But what I’ve realized is this: sometimes, just listening is enough. Sitting in their moment, without redirecting it to mine, is connection.

At the heart of that impulse was a quiet voice inside me saying, “If they see that I relate, they’ll see I’m worthy of love.” But the truth is, I don’t have to prove my worth. I just have to be present. And when I do that, I show people that I care. That I’m safe. That I’m here.

This is the kind of growth I want for myself. I want to be mentally well. I want a fulfilling, peaceful life. I want to break free from the habits and thoughts that anchor me or drive people away. And while I can acknowledge that the ones who left weren’t meant to stay, because I wasn’t being my whole self either — I also know I was attracting what aligned with the version of me that wasn’t happy.

But now? I want better. I want peace inside me, and peace in the relationship I build. And to get that, I know I have to be better. I have to love myself the way I want to be loved, honestly, deeply, consistently.

So here I am. Day 21, no longer counting just to count, but living each moment as it comes. And I can say, without hesitation, that I am a million times more at peace than I was when this all started.

Thank you for being part of this with me. If my words have helped you in any way, I hope you’ll stay with me as I continue down this path. Let’s keep growing, together.

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Unwiring My Overthinking Mind

There’s a part of me that remains calm and grounded when I first meet someone. It’s the version of me that observes, listens, and stays present in the moment. But the moment I feel a real connection with someone, something in my brain switches. Suddenly, I’m overanalyzing every word, every silence, every interaction. It’s like a reflex, and I’m finally admitting to myself: I need to change this.

This morning, I woke up and thought, Maybe I should set up an appointment with my therapist. Because the truth is, I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling this wave of anxiety every time something real begins to form. I’ve noticed this pattern — when I date someone I’m not that into, things feel easy. I don’t overthink. I don’t obsess. I just am. But when I meet someone who seems high-caliber, someone who truly sparks my interest, something in me starts whispering, You’re not enough. They could do better.

That internal voice is loud. After a great date or a deep conversation, I start replaying everything in my head like a film editor stuck on a scene. Did I sound too eager? Too quiet? Did I overshare? I used to send long messages afterward, trying to clarify something or smooth over a moment that probably didn’t even need fixing. Looking back, I realize that not only was this overwhelming for the other person, but it also planted unnecessary doubt — not just in them, but deeper in me.

What I’ve learned recently is that less really is more — especially when it comes to emotional self-regulation. I’ve been journaling a lot instead of offloading all my thoughts onto the person I’m dating or even onto a friend. I “therapy” myself through it, writing down what I’m feeling and why. Then I pause. I breathe. And more often than not, I’m pleasantly surprised: the person hasn’t changed. They reach out later, sweet and consistent, and I realize that the anxiety was mine — not theirs.

I didn’t have to say a word.

The old me would’ve jumped the gun, said something emotional, or tried to over-clarify — which may have made me seem dramatic or insecure. And let’s be honest, nobody wants that. I know I don’t.

So here’s what I’m doing — and what I plan to keep doing — to better myself in this area:

  1. Therapy: I’m going to schedule that appointment. Because some thought patterns run deep, and it’s okay to ask for help to unlearn them.
  2. Journaling: I’ll continue writing through my anxious thoughts rather than projecting them. It gives me clarity and calms the storm.
  3. Reframing: When I catch myself thinking, They can do better, I’ll ask, Why not me? Because the truth is, I am enough. I bring value, kindness, and love to the table.
  4. Pausing: Before reacting or sending a text, I’ll pause. I’ll give things space to breathe. Most things aren’t urgent — and many things resolve themselves naturally.
  5. Affirmations: I’ll keep reminding myself: The right person won’t be overwhelmed by me. They’ll appreciate my depth and presence — not punish me for it.

This is my work. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it. I want to love without fear. I want to connect without crumbling into self-doubt. And I believe I can get there — one breath, one pause, and one honest moment at a time.

Posted in inspiration, life, life experience, love, Self Improvement

A Day for Me

Today, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time — I took a day just for myself. Not a day off to run errands or help someone else. A real day for me.

I woke up early, went to the gym, packed some fruits and water, and headed straight to the beach. It’s Good Friday, so out of respect for my Catholic upbringing, I avoided playing any music. Still, I enjoyed the music that floated around me from others nearby. It might seem extreme to some, but honoring these traditions grounds me, and today, it helped set a reflective tone.

It turned into a day of deep self-reflection. I enjoyed the sunshine, the salty breeze, and even managed to get a nice tan. But I’ll be honest — there were moments when loneliness crept in. I fought hard to push those feelings aside, reminding myself that it’s okay to feel them but not to let them take over.

I found myself thinking a lot about the man I was recently dating — how he went from sweet messages saying he was thinking of me to complete silence. His excuse? “A lot on his plate.” If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that. It’s disappointing, but I recognize this as a season of growth. I’m trying to talk about these things, to face them, and learn from them rather than shut down.

Part of me wonders if I should love differently next time to protect myself — maybe be a little colder, a little more reserved. But that’s not who I am. Affection is part of me, and it says more about my heart than it does about how it’s received. I’m learning that.

The truth is, I crave a real connection. Sometimes, I wonder if it even exists or if the love I see others share is just a fantasy. Either way, I’m holding onto hope that one day I’ll find love that feels safe and steady. I refuse to let this small heartbreak send me spiraling the way it has in the past. I’m allowing myself to feel the sadness, but I’m not letting it consume me. It’s taking effort — real, heavy effort.

When I got home from the beach, my first instinct was to crawl into bed and sleep the feelings away. But instead, I chose myself again: I showered, dried my hair, got dressed, and took myself to the ale house for a glass of wine and an early dinner. Later, I might even change and hit the gym for another session. Who knows?

What matters is that I’m embracing this journey, not blaming myself for things beyond my control. I have to trust that God’s grace is at work — protecting me from something that might have broken me even more if I’d gotten in too deep. For that, I’m grateful.

Until next time, readers — thank you for walking through this with me.

Posted in life, life experience, love, Self Improvement

Learning to Love Beyond Survival

This week, a realization hit me hard: I tend to love from a place of survival.

Every time I begin to date someone new, these old insecurities creep in, almost uninvited. I find myself overwhelmed by an intense fear of abandonment — a fear that I now recognize didn’t come from my parents (who were wonderful and loving). I didn’t grow up with “daddy issues” or anything like that. But something substantial happened to me when I was four years old — something I truly believe shaped me in ways I’m only now beginning to fully understand. That early experience planted deep, rooted insecurities that have followed me into adulthood.

Failed relationships, unexpected goodbyes, and emotional abandonment have all carved their marks on me. And now, I see how I often enter new relationships already bracing for the end — trying to fix things that aren’t even broken yet. I catch myself diving into deep conversations prematurely, handing over parts of my heart before someone has truly earned that intimacy. I realize that in trying to show my worth to others, I sometimes forget the worth I already carry within myself. I sell the person I am, desperately trying to prove that I deserve love — and in doing so, I unintentionally push people away.

It’s not to say that the ones who’ve left my life should have stayed. Honestly, I haven’t met anyone yet who truly deserved to. But I am at a place now where I no longer want to just survive relationships — I want to be at peace within myself.

At the start of this year, my uncle told me, “You cannot be afraid to love.” At the time, I laughed. I thought, Me? Afraid of love? Never. But a few encounters this year have humbled me. They made me realize that the fear of love isn’t about giving love; it’s about giving your heart away and fearing it will be shattered. It’s about wondering if simply being yourself is enough to be loved.

At the beginning of the year, I created a vision board centered around love. Naively, I thought maybe love would just show up — like magic. But it’s not that simple. In the past, when I made vision boards about money, career growth, or education, those things didn’t just fall into my lap either. They took work. They took going back to school, applying to new jobs, learning new skills. The vision board was the roadmap; the work was what made it real.

And love, I realize now, is no different.

If I want the kind of love I’ve envisioned — the kind my heart quietly longs for — I have to do the inner work. I have to heal the parts of me that still believe I’m not enough.

So here I am:
April 17, 2025.
Ready to heal.
Ready to change.

In the spirit of reflection, I’ve turned off my social media and embraced quiet. It’s Holy Thursday, leading into Good Friday — a time when, in my Catholic faith, even music falls silent. This sacred silence has forced me to sit with my thoughts — no distractions, no noise. And after a week of practicing this stillness, something beautiful has happened:
I can hear the birds again.
I can finally hear myself again.

I want to do the work.
will do the work.
I want to be happy — and I will be happy.