Tag: mental-health

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

Friday Thoughts: I’m Tired of Sitting With the Ache

Posted on by affirmationofvisions

It’s another Friday night, and I find myself driving home to no one. The lights on the road blur into a quiet reminder of how long I’ve been doing life on my own. I’m not saying my happiness depends on someone else, I know it doesn’t, but there’s a difference between being content alone and feeling the ache of wanting something more.

I’ve spent years learning to love myself. I’ve taken myself out, traveled solo, poured into my career, and built a life that I can stand on proudly. I’ve done everything they say you should do to find peace within yourself, and for the most part, I have. But if I’m being honest, I’m tired.

Tired of being the strong one. Tired of doing everything alone. Tired of sitting with the ache that comes from wanting real companionship, not just someone to fill the space, but someone who truly feels like home.

There have been moments when I tried to force it, brief connections, little flings, things that never really fit. I can admit now that sometimes I just didn’t want to be alone. But if I hadn’t had those, I probably would’ve spent the last twenty years in complete solitude. And as much as I’ve learned to embrace independence, that kind of loneliness weighs heavy.

Tonight, I’m grateful that I get to have dinner with my mom. I know how lucky I am to have her. I remind myself that I could be in a bad relationship, one that drains instead of fills. So I choose to be thankful for my peace. But still, I can hold gratitude and sadness at the same time.

Work’s been tough lately. The commute is long, the hours add up, and I come home completely spent. I tell myself it’s all part of the process, that I’m building something, that this season is temporary. I want to believe that what’s meant for me will find me, that God’s timing is perfect. But sometimes, even faith feels heavy when your heart is tired of waiting.

The holidays are coming, and usually I’d be excited. But this year feels different. There’s so much happening behind the scenes, so much uncertainty. It’s hard to find that spark when the world feels dim.

I’ve thought about leaving, moving somewhere new, starting fresh, hoping that life could feel different. I hear stories about people who take a leap, and suddenly everything shifts, new energy, new people, new possibilities. Sometimes I wonder if living in Miami has run its course for me. The city is beautiful, but too often, it feels superficial. Maybe I’m craving something more real, slower days, deeper connections, people who look you in the eye and mean what they say.

But the truth is, I can’t go anywhere else. I have my home here, and my son. He can’t afford it on his own. I’m left with the cards I’ve been dealt, and I have to make the most of what I have.

So I stay. I keep showing up, praying, hoping, and trusting that God hasn’t forgotten me. I believe He’s working, even when I can’t see it.

Still, I’m tired, tired of being the strong one, tired of sitting with the ache, tired of pretending it doesn’t get to me.

If you’re feeling the same, I hope this reminds you that you’re not alone. Some of us are just trying to hold on to faith while living the reality we’ve been given, waiting for the season where everything finally starts to make sense.

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

From Sacrifice to Self

Posted on by affirmationofvisions

Last week was a rough one for me. If you read my last blog, you know I had a moment of deep despair. A moment where I finally decided to surrender, not give up, but surrender. There’s a big difference. In my prayer, I asked God the questions I’ve carried quietly for so long: Why me? Why am I still alone? Why haven’t I lived the life I envisioned, one filled with adventure, meaningful friendships, joy? It’s not for lack of being a good person. So why?

In that prayer, something shifted. I realized I was tired, tired of asking those questions, tired of trying to manipulate life into giving me what I thought I should have. I was exhausted from carrying it all. And in that surrender, I realized something that broke me wide open: I’ve never truly lived for myself.

My entire adult life has been centered around my children. I became a single mom when they were just two and three years old, and I made the choice to put my life on hold to be present in every possible way. Even on weekends they weren’t with me, I’d turn down plans and stay close to home, just in case they needed me. I felt guilty doing things without them, so I simply didn’t. I didn’t go out. I didn’t travel. I paused me. And over time, as I continued saying “no” to friends and family, the invitations stopped coming.

Then, the day after my surrender prayer, something happened. I got into a minor argument with my son. I was upset because he had plans to go out of town again, yet another weekend away. He’s in college now, and most weekends, he’s gone. I felt hurt. I told him so.

And his response stopped me cold:
“Mom, you need to let me live my life. I’m entitled to live my youth.”

He didn’t say it to hurt me. But it did hurt, because I realized, he was right. I’ve given my whole life so that he and his brother could live theirs. I’ve sacrificed willingly. And yet, in that moment, I saw the truth: they never asked me to. I chose that. I did it out of love, but I also clung to it because it became my identity.

That day, I cried, hard. But for the first time, I didn’t cry because I felt empty. I cried because I was being shown something: It’s time to let go. It’s okay now. My boys are 20 and 21. It’s okay to live again. It’s okay to make plans, to go out, to travel, to enjoy life. That doesn’t make me less of a mother. In fact, it’s what I need to be the best version of myself, for them and for me. It’s time I model what it looks like to love others without losing yourself in the process.

And just when I thought that was my big lesson for the week… the universe handed me another one.

This past weekend, I had a moment of weakness, a familiar one. I caught myself almost falling back into an old habit: filling the silence, the loneliness, the space… with something that no longer fits.

I dated someone for two years, a good man, kind and thoughtful, but deep down, I knew from early on that we weren’t right for each other. My journals don’t lie. Entry after entry, I wrote about how I felt unsettled. I stayed because I felt bad. Because he had no family and mine became his. Because guilt can be a powerful prison. I broke up with him multiple times, and each time, he took me back with hope in his heart. To him, I was everything he’d prayed for. And maybe he was settling, too, because truthfully, I never prioritized him. I didn’t give him the love he deserved.

We’ve been out of contact for seven or eight months now. I hadn’t thought about him much at all, until he posted a picture with a new woman on social media. He looked happy. And just like that, I felt something. Not love. Not regret. Just… triggered.

Right before that, he’d left a box of my things with my mom. And the timing? Let’s just say it wasn’t accidental. He knew my family followed him online. He wanted a reaction. And sadly, I gave him one. I even found myself debating whether to reach out. I thought: Maybe I’ll just suggest coffee, just to see if he still wants me. Because I know he would. He told me countless times—no one would ever replace me. But then…

I caught myself.

This was a test.

A test of my surrender. A test of whether I was really ready to stop repeating patterns that don’t serve me. A test of how I handle the waiting.

And that’s where my couch theory comes in.

I look at surrender like this:

It’s like having an old couch you’ve finally gotten rid of because you know it no longer fits. Maybe it didn’t match your decor. Maybe the energy was off. Maybe it was never the right couch in the first place. So you let it go. You sell it. It’s gone.

Then you go out and buy a brand-new couch, the perfect one. The one that suits your mood, your style, your room, your life. But it’s custom. You meet the person who’s going to build it, and you tell them you trust them. You give them a plan, show them exactly where the couch will sit, explain how it should feel in the space. “I trust you to build the perfect couch for this room,” you say. They nod with confidence and tell you it will take four to twelve weeks to build, before delivery.

So now what?

You have no couch.

Your choices:

  1. Sit on the floor and wait patiently.
  2. Go back and drag the old couch back in, the one you already decided didn’t work.
  3. Hop on OfferUp and buy a temporary couch. Something cheap. Something fast. Something that doesn’t match your vision but fills the space, for now.

But we all know what happens: that quick fix ends up costing more in the long run. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t fit. And when your real couch arrives, now you’ve got to do the work of getting rid of that temporary one, again.

So here I am, waiting. Sitting on the floor, metaphorically speaking. Not recycling old couches. Not buying stand-ins out of loneliness. I’m holding out for what’s meant for me. For what fits.

Yes, it’s hard. Waiting always is. But this time, I know what I’m doing. I know what I deserve. I know that filling space just to feel full isn’t the answer. I’m not here for quick comforts anymore. I’m here for peace, alignment, and truth.

So no more recycled couches.
No more temporary stand-ins.
No more mistaking loneliness for love.

I surrender.

Posted in inspiration, life, life experience, love

Everything but One Thing

Posted on by affirmationofvisions

Some nights carry a heaviness that no amount of success or self-love can lift. Not because life is broken, but because a very specific piece of it is missing. And that piece matters more than most people realize.

I’m content with what I’ve built. I’ve worked hard, raised two incredible sons, and created a life that makes sense on the outside. Financially, I’m stable. I’ve carved out a career that I enjoy, surrounded by good people. I’ve handled my responsibilities. I’ve shown up. I’ve done the work. And yet, despite all that, there’s an ache that lingers, because emotionally, romantically, intimately, I’m alone. And that absence has a way of coloring everything else.

It’s a unique kind of pain to have everything but love. To be the strong one, the capable one, the one who gets it done, but still come home to silence. It’s not the silence itself that hurts. It’s the realization that no one is thinking about you in the way you long to be thought of. That there’s no one eagerly waiting to see you. No one to share your day with. No one to plan a weekend or dream up a future.

People often say, “Just learn to love yourself. Enjoy your own company.” I have. I do. I’ve spent two decades showing up for myself. I go out to dinner alone. I treat myself well. I laugh. I lift myself when things feel heavy. But let’s be honest, being self-sufficient doesn’t erase the human desire for connection. I don’t want to be saved. I want to be seen. And I’ve never had that, not with a romantic partner.

I’ve never had someone to do life with. Never had a man who truly wanted to build something side by side. Never had someone say, “Let’s take that trip together,” and mean it. I’ve never traveled, not because I didn’t want to, but because I never had someone who wanted to experience that with me. That kind of companionship, that shared enthusiasm for life, has never found its way into my story.

I thought, by now, it would have. I thought once my boys were grown, once I had space for myself, that space would be filled by someone who understood me, someone with ambition, heart, family values, and faith. Someone steady. But here I am at 44, sitting with my dogs on a Friday night, leftovers in the fridge, no plans, and a heart that still wonders why that kind of love hasn’t come.

The other night, I couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t the kind of insomnia that comes from caffeine or stress. It was deeper. I laid there wide awake, fully aware that I wasn’t okay. And in that stillness, I did what I rarely do, I talked to God out loud.

I told Him I surrender.

Not because I’m giving up on love. But because I’m exhausted from trying to force it. Exhausted from constantly hoping today might be the day. I told Him I can’t carry the disappointment anymore. That I would rather trust His timing than keep torturing myself with expectations that never seem to be met.

Surrender, for me, isn’t about losing hope, it’s about trading it for faith. Letting go of control. Letting go of the timeline I imagined. And trying to find peace in what is, rather than what I thought should be.

Because I have done everything right. I’ve grown. I’ve healed. I’ve loved. I’ve given. I’ve created a beautiful life in so many ways. But without that connection, without that person to build and enjoy life with, it sometimes feels like all of it is missing a pulse. Like I have everything, but at the end of the day, it amounts to nothing… because there’s no one to share it with.

So tonight, I sit with the truth. I’m not bitter, but I’m not pretending anymore either. I want what I want. I deserve what I deserve. And if it’s in God’s plan, I’ll be ready to receive it. If not, I trust that my soul will carry this lesson into the next life, and maybe then, it will be my time to feel the kind of love that’s eluded me in this one.

Until then, I’ll keep showing up. Not for the hope of someone coming, but because I know my story matters, even in solitude. Because being alone doesn’t mean I’m not enough. It just means my heart still believes in something more. Quietly. Patiently. Faithfully.

Posted in inspiration, life, life experience, love

Day 21 — A Reflection on Self-Awareness and Peace

Posted on by affirmationofvisions

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.

Posted in Uncategorized

Unwiring My Overthinking Mind

Posted on by affirmationofvisions

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.