Tag: writing

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 inner peace, life, life experience, Self Improvement

My People-Pleasing Subscription Expired 😂

Posted on by affirmationofvisions

They say the older you get, the more you lose your filter. I’m starting to think that’s bullshit.

I don’t think I’ve lost my filter at all. If anything, I think I’ve finally figured out that I don’t have to use it to protect everyone else from the discomfort they created.

When I think about myself when I was younger, there were so many times people said things to me that were just… out of pocket. Not necessarily blatantly cruel or some huge insult that would obviously warrant a response. It was usually more subtle than that. A comment that went a little too far, an opinion nobody asked for, something judgmental disguised as a joke, or something personal enough to make me think, Why would you even say that to me?

And for whatever reason, my response was usually to be polite.

Someone would make me uncomfortable and somehow I would immediately go into damage-control mode to make sure they didn’t feel uncomfortable about making me uncomfortable. I’d laugh, explain myself, change the subject, or sometimes even join in on the joke. Apparently younger me was running a full-service emotional concierge desk. You just said something completely unnecessary to me? No worries, let me make sure this isn’t awkward for you.

I don’t know if I wasn’t confrontational or if I just thought being a good person meant always being gracious. Maybe it was a little of both. But somewhere along the way, that changed.

Not in a “now I tell everybody to go f*ck themselves” kind of way, although admittedly, the option feels much more available at 45. 😂 It’s more that I finally realized I don’t owe someone a comfortable landing after they say something inappropriate to me.

One of the biggest things I’ve learned as I’ve gotten older is that I don’t always have to respond. Silence used to make me uncomfortable because I felt like I needed to fill the space. Now I’m perfectly fine letting it sit there. If someone says something inappropriate and waits for me to laugh, I don’t have to laugh. If someone asks something I don’t feel like answering, I don’t have to answer. If someone takes a conversation somewhere I never invited it to go, I can redirect it, ignore it completely, or simply leave the conversation where it is.

It sounds incredibly simple, but it took me years to learn.

Here’s a perfect example. I’m doing 75 Hard right now, so I recently told someone I wasn’t drinking for the next 75 days. I was explaining the challenge, which involves two workouts a day, eating healthy, no alcohol, reading, all the things. Somehow, out of everything I said, the word “hard” was apparently enough inspiration for him to respond, “You had me at hard.” Then he followed it up with, “Sorry, I’m just horny.”

Sir. 😂

What exactly am I supposed to do with that information? Where do we go from here? Because we certainly weren’t headed there before.

And listen, despite how often this subject somehow finds its way into my blogs lately, I swear I am not a prude. Sexual conversations don’t offend me. Flirting doesn’t offend me. I enjoy both when there’s mutual chemistry and the door has actually been opened for that kind of conversation. But randomly announcing that you’re horny in the middle of a completely unrelated conversation when we haven’t established anything remotely close to that dynamic is just… strange. What would you like me to say? Congratulations? 😂

The younger version of me probably would have laughed or made some little joke back, not necessarily because I wanted the conversation to go there, but because I wouldn’t have wanted him to feel embarrassed. And when I really think about that, it’s crazy. Why was I always so concerned about making someone else comfortable after they were the one who made the conversation uncomfortable?

This time I didn’t lecture him, tell him he was inappropriate, or turn it into some big thing. I simply didn’t pick up what he put down. I redirected the conversation right back to fitness and asked if he was still working out like he used to. That was it. We were going back to where the conversation belonged, and I wasn’t going to participate in taking it anywhere else.

And maybe he’ll read this and realize I’m talking about him. If so… well. 😂

But this really isn’t about him. That conversation just made me realize how differently I handle these situations now, and it extends far beyond dating or men making sexual comments.

I remember when my kids were little and someone in my life would make comments comparing my parenting to theirs. They would question a decision I made or make some comment that implied the way they did something was somehow better. Instead of simply standing behind my choices, I would laugh it off and then start explaining myself. I’d justify why I made a certain decision or give all the reasons behind it, almost as if I needed them to agree with me before I could feel confident in something that was mine to decide in the first place.

Looking back now, I wonder why I ever felt like I needed to do that. They weren’t raising my children. I was. I didn’t owe anybody a PowerPoint presentation with supporting documentation explaining my parenting decisions.

I think that’s one of those things age teaches you. You start realizing how much of your life you’ve spent absorbing other people’s behavior and then carrying it around long after the interaction was over. You replayed something somebody said while they probably went home and slept perfectly fine. You wondered if you were being too sensitive. You explained yourself to people who weren’t entitled to an explanation. You laughed at things you didn’t find funny and stayed in conversations you wanted to leave because somehow calling out the discomfort felt ruder than the person creating it.

Eventually, you realize how exhausting that is.

Maybe that’s what people mistake for losing your filter as you get older. Maybe we don’t lose it at all. Maybe we just stop filtering ourselves for everybody else’s benefit.

I still believe in being kind, and I still believe not everything deserves a reaction. I don’t think every uncomfortable comment requires a confrontation, and I certainly don’t believe in matching someone’s disrespect just because they gave it to me first. I’m not interested in an eye-for-an-eye way of living, and I don’t need to win every interaction.

I’ve just become much more selective about what deserves my energy.

If someone I love says something that hurts me, I’ll have the conversation because the relationship matters to me. If there’s something worth repairing, I’ll communicate. But not everyone gets that kind of access to me anymore. Sometimes I’ll call something out, sometimes I’ll redirect the conversation, and sometimes I’ll simply leave it exactly where it is.

And sometimes I’ll let the silence sit there long enough for you to hear what you just said.

Because your discomfort with my silence is no longer more important to me than my discomfort with your words.

So maybe age does make us less tolerant, but I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. I think you just reach a point where you realize how much time you’ve wasted worrying about things other people said, did, thought, or felt, and how often you sacrificed your own comfort to protect theirs.

Maybe wisdom isn’t becoming louder or more confrontational. Maybe it’s simply knowing when something deserves your response and when it doesn’t.

I haven’t lost my filter.

I’ve just finally learned that I don’t have to make myself uncomfortable just to make someone else comfortable.

Posted in inner peace, inspiration, life, life experience, Uncategorized

I Stopped Carrying Everything

Posted on by affirmationofvisions

There’s been a shift in me lately.

My mind is quieter.

Not because life suddenly got easier. It didn’t. I still have problems, deadlines, responsibilities, and moments that test me. But somewhere along the way, I stopped believing that every thought deserved my attention.

I let thoughts come, and I let them go.

I think that’s one of the gifts of getting older, if you’re willing to learn from what life has been trying to teach you all along. You start realizing that forcing things rarely brings peace. Controlling every outcome is exhausting. And sometimes the greatest act of faith is simply letting go.

Every morning on my drive to work, I pray the Rosary.

I’m Catholic, and for me it isn’t about asking for things. It’s become my time for peace. It’s my way of grounding myself before the day begins. It reminds me that I’m not carrying everything alone. It helps me surrender the things that were never mine to control in the first place.

It has become my daily reset.

I used to spend so much time replaying conversations, worrying about outcomes, trying to solve every problem before it even existed. If something went wrong, I’d carry it with me all day.

Now, when a problem comes, I acknowledge it. I absorb it. If there’s a solution, I find it. If there isn’t, I accept that too.

Because I’ve learned that not every problem has an immediate answer.

Not every situation is mine to fix.

And not every burden belongs on my shoulders.

That realization has changed me.

I’ve also learned to enjoy my own company.

For a long time, I expected other people to make me feel important, chosen, or prioritized. Then one day I realized something that was hard to admit:

I wasn’t prioritizing myself.

Why was I expecting someone else to do what I wasn’t willing to do for myself?

That was a turning point.

Now I choose the things that bring me peace. I still work out, but not because I’m chasing a certain body anymore. I do it because it clears my mind. If my body needs sleep instead of a 5 a.m. workout, I sleep. The gym will still be there that evening.

I’ve stopped living by rigid rules that I created for myself.

Ironically, the less I’ve tried to control every detail, the more peaceful I’ve become.

Someone once said that expectations are the thief of joy.

I think there’s a lot of truth in that.

So much of my anxiety came from believing life had to unfold a certain way. That people had to respond a certain way. That relationships had to look a certain way. That plans had to happen on my timeline.

But that’s not my job.

My job is to show up. To do my best. To love well. To have faith. To solve what I can, release what I can’t, and trust that what’s meant for me doesn’t require me to force it.

I’m learning to exhale more.

To trust more.

To enjoy the life that’s happening instead of constantly trying to rearrange it.

And somewhere in all of that…

I found peace.