Speaking of changes, I decided to shut down this newsletter/website after four and a half years. When I launched it in September 2020, I intended to share my personal relationship stories, as I once did for Latina Magazine. As time passed and life happened, I felt the need for privacy, and I began sharing my self-love and mindset musings instead.

As of 2022, I’ve been writing and publishing romance novellas (find my “Heights of Love” book series on Amazon). My business partner and I also launched Give Them Romance, a newsletter sharing stories from the POV of our BIPOC leading ladies. I’ve loved every minute of crafting the lives of my Latinx fictional characters. So much so, that I don’t desire to share my life in the same way anymore.

I am grateful for my career and the opportunities I created as an eager and determined relationship writer. I don’t regret writing about my love life, even when my choices were cringe-worthy. I’ve learned tons as a writer, entrepreneur, and person because of it. But I have evolved. As we evolve we make new choices and what once aligned no longer resonates.

So, this is the last you will see me in your inbox via this newsletter. I will be shutting it down by the end and erasing all content by the end of the month. Thank you for all the support and for rocking with me through the changes. Hopefully, I’ll see that you’ve subscribed to Give Them Romance. If not, no hard feelings.

Always sending you my love!

Love,

Sujeiry

Is this post moves you, please heart it and share it.

I always deserved more…

My father came to visit me in March of this year. The “planning” for his visit was quintessential Papi. 

“Are you busy today?” he asked when he called.

“I’m working,” I said.

“Can you pick me up from the ferry?” 

I stopped tapping on my laptop. What ferry? Where is he? 

As if reading my mind, he replied, “I’m in Connecticut and my compadre said there is a ferry that takes me to Long Island.” 

After a quick Google search, I learned that his compadre was correct. There is a ferry from Bridgeport, CT to Port Jefferson on Long Island. What I didn’t know was that my father expected me to pick him up “en tres horas” and that he intended to stay with me for an undetermined amount of time as he had no return flight.

So quintessential Papi. 

Our time together (7 days once I asked him when he was flying home to the Dominican Republic) changed me in ways I am still processing. I won’t get into the details as they don’t matter.

My father is still the same man I remember him to be. He puts himself first. He is inconsiderate, never uttering a thank you for a meal or a kind gesture. And he is entitled, expecting me - or anyone for that matter - to tend to him, pour into him, and love him even when he has always given the bare minimum.

My father has been in and out of my life all of my life. He often said he would visit and call but wouldn’t. I don’t remember a time when he was consistently present. He didn’t show up to my theater performances, birthdays, or graduations. He didn’t provide financially or call and rarely visited, if at all. He didn’t do the bare minimum as a father, which is just to be present. 

It was the same scenario when he came to visit in March. I really wanted things to be different. I used to long for a healthy, loving father-daughter relationship. To have a dad who loves me just for me and expects nothing in return. That puts in the effort to be present and consistent without me having to ask for it. A father who supports me, builds me up, and protects me.

That’s why as he walked out the door in early April, weeks before my 46th birthday, I chose to stop all efforts to build a relationship with him. I chose to stop recreating a pattern that always made me feel unworthy. Because I deserve more than the bare minimum, especially from the man who fathered me. 

Since then, my father has not contacted me. He didn’t even call or text me on my birthday. But he did call my sister while she was visiting me to complain about his time with me. I wasn’t hurt or disappointed because it’s how he operates. It just confirmed everything I realized during his stay: I have always deserved a father who loves me and cherishes me. I’m not willing to receive less. 

Today, I feel free. Because I no longer need my father to validate my worth. I no longer need to fix our relationship - or him - to feel healed, loved, and worthy.

Heart this post!

Thank you for reading this personal reflection. I hope it helps someone free themselves from outdated, toxic patterns and dynamics that are keeping them hostage.

P.S. Please heart this post and/or comment. It helps me gain more visibility on Substack.

Till next time…

xoxo,

Sujeiry

I always thought I would live forever. That death would give me a pass and forget to knock on my door. Illogical, I know, but a girl can dream about ways to make this a reality. Maybe I’ll be seduced and bitten by a sexy vampire. Or discover a magic potion and gulp every last drop. Or reincarnate over and over again as a sexy ingénue forever and ever. 

Because if I can live forever, especially as a vampire, I’ll stop the aging process altogether.

Hey, good looking! Thank you for reading! If you haven’t subscribed yet, hit the button below to subscribe for free.

Subscribe now

My desire for immortality is less about the fear of not existing and more about the fear of aging. As someone who has always appeared 10 years younger than my actual age, I am realizing that at 46 I am now pegged as 36. I don’t get carded anymore. I get called ‘ma'am. And although I still get hit on by men in their early to late 30s, and they stare at me in disbelief when I share my actual age, I see the signs of aging every day when I look in the mirror. 

My skin is still taught except for the bags under my eyes. They get worse when I don’t sleep 8 hours a night thanks to Evan, who still sneaks into my bed despite my objections. 

My ass is still round and lifted thanks to working out at the gym. But damn this cellulite that doesn’t budge no matter how hard I hit the stairmaster.

My smile lines are apparent, although they’ve stopped deepening since I began using an LED light treatment every night for 10 minutes. 

My grays are just coming in at 46. I color my hair and touch up my roots way more often than before to keep them seemingly at bay. 

But there’s hair that can’t be dyed. That no matter how much I primp and press they grow silvery and wild, taking over that very area with abandon.

I do what I can to keep her nice and neat. And if a man ever dared complain, I would send him to get his scrotum waxed to see how he likes it.

So it seems that my only option to grow ageless and grayless is to become immortal. Stop the hands of time before it all goes down…sagging and all. This is my current conundrum as a single woman in mid-life, especially one that‘s getting hit on by 30-something-year-old men.

And with that, I’m off to become a Sugar Baby to a 100-year-old man with cataracts. Unless I can find a damn vampire in Transylvania, Romania.

Did you enjoy this story? Hit the heart! This helps my newsletter get visibility on Substack, plus, it’s easy to do. Also, share this story if you enjoyed it (and I know you did).

Share

Something shifts within when you focus on yourself. It’s a transformational experience to stop giving when not receiving, to set boundaries, and to live in gratitude for the freedom to be exactly who you are.

That’s that Queen energy.

That doesn’t mean you should be a dick or a bitch and just say, “That’s who I am! Accept it!” Or to treat others as if you are above them. That’s toxic. That’s arrogant. That is not self-love.

It means you finesse the best parts of yourself and heal the broken pieces to arrive as the authentic, fulfilled, and whole (not perfect) new version of yourself.

I love myself in a way that I’ve never loved myself before. I love myself more than I love another. I put myself first without feeling guilty. And I recognize my value and my worth.

I fucking love myself.

What changed? I decided to turn inward in a way that I hadn’t before. If you know me, and many of you know me personally, I’ve always believed in personal development. As much as I am passionate, fun, and energizing, I have a side to me that is quiet and reflective. I am as much of a talker as I am a deep thinker. I read books about spirituality, energies, and consciousness. I am balanced.

Turning inward has allowed me to heal my abandonment wounds from childhood and to stop seeking external validation. I do not need anyone to validate my worth. I do that all on my own. And, although I am not perfect and stumble on this continuous self-love journey, I remind myself every day that everything outside of me reflects who I believe I am and what I believe I deserve.

How people treat me and show up for me is on me. The external world is my mirror. And I can’t wait to receive all of the goodness that I am pouring into myself.

Because I fucking love myself. Because I’m in my Queen energy. Because self-love is the gift that keeps on giving.

Project Updates

Stay tuned for a new romance novel from yours truly in 2024! It’s the second book in “The Heights of Love” series. You can grab my first romance novel, Candi, here.

I also have something that I am bringing back that I am keeping quiet. In this Queen era, I’ve learned not to share news until everything is solidified. I am very excited about it. You will be the first to know ;-)

Now, this is where I use mind control to get you to…

• Laugh with my stories. Unless it’s sad. Then you can laugh-cry.

• Click on all the links in my newsletter, especially those links where I ask you to purchase my books!

• Comment/heart every newsletter. (And I mean EVERY!)

• Share every damn newsletter with a friend, your momma, a romantic interest that you want to impress (You: Look! I am so well-read!), and your book club where you drink more wine than read. Just share it, dammit!

And, if you must reach me (I am a famous content creator in my head) hit reply and I will answer your email…if you tell me I’m amazing.

Till we e-meet again!

xoxo,

Sujeiry

I know who I am, y’all! Yaaaaaaaaaaaay!

It’s been a long journey to get to this version of myself, but I can honestly say that I am happy with my life. And, although I don’t have everything that I desire (yet), I know I will get there.

That statement right there shows how much I’ve grown and evolved. The old version of me would be all, “Why does this always happen to me?” or “Why can’t I get what I want?!” The Sujeiry that sits before you writing this update thinks like this:

• Everything always works out for me.

• God has my back.

• I know I get everything I want.

• I choose joy every day!

Because I’m now a self-appointed guru…

I launched YourSelfLoveAdvocate.com, a new blog where I’m sharing insights about mindset, self-love, self-concept, and manifestation. I am writing about my journey to self-love and what I’ve learned as well as interviewing therapists to dive deeper into mindset shifting.

There is power in waiting. I waited 38 years to become a mother. Shaking like a leaf on a windy day thanks to 23 hours of induced labor and the anesthesia in my system, I opened my eyes just a sliver. I watched as my baby boy lay on my chest and sucked on my right breast. I smiled, despite the pinch in my nipples as Evan sucked and felt an odd tightness in my lower abdomen due to my emergency c-section. Because holding Evan felt euphoric, I didn’t think about my recovery period or the sleepless nights that would consume my life. I was happy. Happy that I waited to have him on June 21, 2016, even though the wait to become a mother often felt excruciating.

I wish that I always felt the power of waiting. That I knew for certain that there was a bright light at the end of the tunnel as I wait for a desire to be realized. That I believed day in and day out that waiting is a transformative experience that builds grit, determination, and unwavering certainty that yes, I really want this, and I will attain this. I knew Evan would be worth the wait. I also knew that despite being 38 years old it would be easy to get pregnant. A month after giving baby making a go, two blue lines appeared on my pregnancy test. It happened just like that.

Other things in my life haven’t happened as quickly. When I decide I want something, my journey to that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow often feels like a never-ending winding ride of ifs and buts, excuses and stalling, and so much fucking waiting. Lately, though, I’ve realized that I’ve had a hand in this. For decades, I’ve thought that things don’t come easily for me. A fast thinker, communicator, and initiator, waiting has always felt like a punishment that I didn't deserve. Similar to that spanking I got from Mami after she caught me throwing tajadas de platanos out of the kitchen window. How many times did I have to tell that women that I hated platanos? She should have known better.

The Power of Waiting

I understand now the power of waiting. I just have to change my relationship with it. I can bitch and moan or make a decision to change my thoughts. I can shift my perception and change the narrative, telling myself a brand new story that eases my mind and heart, and helps me obtain the romantic love and professional abundance that I desire. Today I choose to see waiting as a space to thrive. As the time to love me more and more each day. As an opportunity given to me by God to continue to evolve into a whole woman, so that I stop sacrificing myself and forgetting my needs when I am there for those that I love deeply, even when they don’t reciprocate my efforts.

Buy Sujeiry’s first romance novel, Candi.

Available on Amazon

Waiting has brought on my evolution. Because for the first time since holding Evan in my arms, I know that I am getting whatever I want despite my current reality. And I find solace in knowing that if God places a desire in my heart, it is all attainable. It is already mine.

I stand in front of the mirror in our tiny bathroom. The chipped eggnog paint behind me reminds me of my brokenness. I don’t recognize myself anymore, and it isn’t because of the undereye circles and heavy bags that now decorate my face. Not the grays that sprout here and there atop of my head despite how many times I cut them from the root with a scissor specifically designated for such things.

I used to be passion-filled. I used to know my purpose. To share relationship stories. Heartbreak. My journey to self-love and all of the lessons that I’ve learned from my stumbles. Today, I stare at my reflection in that dark and damp basement bathroom and I wonder, who am I?

I sigh, resigning myself to the life that I’ve chosen for myself. I’m in a relationship with a man that unequivocally wants to change who I am at my core. He’s never said it directly, but his questioning of my person, motivations, and desires speak volumes.

“When are you going to give up?” he asks while on his knees. This isn’t a proposal, he didn’t get on his knees then either. D is fiddling with the bathroom handle. It keeps breaking.

“What do you mean…give up?” I respond, rubbing my belly in circles to soothe Evan’s flutters. D’s line of questioning often agitates me and, in turn, our unborn child. I know what he means. Although he supported my career at the start of our relationship (he even ordered a custom made replica of my book cover as a birthday cake), D has grown frustrated with the unconventional life of a Writer and Creative. He claims it directly affects him and our family. I understand, but I cannot fathom abandoning a career that I have built and worked for since 2006.

“The writing, the radio, the relationship stuff…are you ever going to get a regular job?”

Whoop. There it is. This is what he’s always wanted, I know that. And yet I’ve chosen to remain with D despite the constant passive aggressive remarks that suggest he wants me to sacrifice the one thing that fulfills me. It irritates him, you know. My shine gets under his skin.

But I stay. Because although I don’t always like him, I still love him and we are building a family.

I stay and try not to sacrifice it all just to please him. It’s getting harder not to give up. I find myself questioning every decision I’ve ever made professionally. I am unsure of my trajectory as the go-to-chica for all things love. He knows this and resents it. His resentment reveals itself with snappy comments about my lack of financial contribution to our household and when he “teases” me about my bright-colored wardrobe. (“You’re going to wear that?”)

And yet I stay. Although I don’t recognize myself anymore. Because this is growing up, I whisper to my reflection. This is what it means to be in a relationship. This is who I have to be now.

My fixation with self develops into a need to learn everything about what makes me tick. I want to explore every nook and cranny. Like, why do my glasses and sunglasses lean to the right on my nose every time despite the pair? 

Subscribe now

Every shadowy, horrible, shameful trait. Like how I want to be validated with kudos and praise, especially when someone else is receiving kudos and praise. (Helloooo! What about me?!)

Every golden, bright, empowering truth. Like how I love to empower women through storytelling and blindly and naturally encourage everyone in my orbit. 

I know all of these things about myself because I’ve done the work. And I’ve done the work because knowing myself gets me that much closer to the one thing I've always craved: freedom.

For me, freedom isn’t an elusive, abstract concept. I see it. Freedom looks like having my own schedule where I spend my time doing the things that I love. It looks like having full autonomy in every aspect of my life. I feel it. It feels like satisfaction, spontaneity, excitement, and an explosion of creativity. It feels like my soul is singing, buzzing. It’s the only thing I’ve ever truly wanted. 

Subscribe now

I learned this after decades of experiencing personal and professional blocks due to feeling boxed in. I felt trapped at every job. My bosses loved my enthusiasm, charm, and independent, hustler spirit while simultaneously fighting me when I showed up as an authoritative leader. I felt like I had to change in every relationship. My ex loved my high energy, creativity, and go-getter attitude, yet wished I had a more conventional work schedule and stopped spending so much time looking for Creative gigs as a writer and performer. 

I couldn’t win. So I twisted myself into a pretzel to fit into every work environment, to align with my employer, and to be loved by my ex-fiancé. Until I became a shell of a person. Someone I didn’t recognize. I was miserable, as you often are when you’re not living in your authentic truth. And that’s when I became obsessed about learning about myself through astrology and Human Design. 

What I’ve learned is that I am an Aries sun with a Capricorn Rising and Leo Moon. Translation: I am a fiery leader (Aries) that feels oh so much despite my bravado and tough exterior (Capricorn). Emotionally, I crave the spotlight and need to be validated (Leo Moon). But, what about my need for freedom and autonomy? Why do I take on a gazillion projects and love to ideate and brainstorm for myself and others? I had to figure it out because I was going out of my mind last year trying to fit into a box as a Creative Entrepreneur with many skills and passions.  We’ve been taught to be one way and focus on one thing at a time. I just can’t seem to do that. I considered it a fault. I even wondered if I had ADD. Until I found Human Design. 

Human Design is described as a “holistic self-knowledge system combining astrology, the I Ching, Kabbalah and Vedic philosophy.” With Human Design, I’ve learned that I am a Manifesting Generator. And this new awareness has taken my knowledge of self to the next level. It has validated every part of my being and soul. I don’t feel like I’m all over the place anymore, I don’t feel stuck, I don’t feel like I am a hot mess. I don’t feel like I have to choose. Instead, I have to feel. 

I finally see my truth and know that my needs and desires are valid, and that I tick the way that I tick for a reason. It’s innate, I don’t have to change. My needs and desires are mine to bestow and to pursue. And when I align with exactly who I am, that’s when I manifest magic. 

Subscribe now

My self-worth is instantly triggered because I still believe that I am not enough. It is the narrative that was inadvertently engrained in me throughout childhood. Mami, a helicopter parent and nurturing worrywart, constantly agonized about my health. She treated me like a fragile bird that needed to be rescued, often saying things like, “Mi hija, yo te lo hago, tu no puedes.”

Direct translation: Daughter, I’ll do it for you. You can’t.

Although Mami meant well and simply wanted to nurture her middle child and her paralyzing fear of bugs, strangers, and food, I interpreted her words differently. Subconsciously, I began to believe that most things in life - work, commitment, investing - would be too hard for me, and that I was too weak to do things on my own and would need to be taken care. All of this created a need for codependency and an unhealthy response to any scenario or person that set off my feelings of unworthiness. That response was to run.

Even now, Mami constantly asks if I feel overwhelmed by my career. With urgency in her voice, she reminds me to take it easy because of “lo que paso.” Ah, yes, that time when my body turned on me a month post postpartum and I survived a subarachnoid brain hemorrhage. This medical disaster (I am fortunate to be alive) fed into this narrative. Mami’s sunk her teeth into the role of helicopter parent and nurturing worrywart.

Subscribe now

In all fairness, Mami didn’t know she was conditioning me to feel incapable. It’s actually cyclical. As an asthmatic, my mother was spoken to in the same manner that she speaks to me. She wasn’t allowed to do much as a child (no heavy lifting) and was always tended to by my grandparents because she was always sick. So, when Mami gave birth to a quiet and shy Aries that developed anemia and a small case of lead poisoning (oh, the 80s!), she parented me in a similar way.

It’s hard to break away from what you know. And yet here I am, a mom of a 5-year-old boy, cultivating my own path as a creative woman and powerhouse. I’m turning this shit around for generations to come.

I do so by being accountable and working through it. That means staying put to tackle the beast. I kick it in it’s gut and watch as it tumbles to the ground instead of fleeing the scene because confrontation brings me discomfort. I tip my hat (I love myself a hat), acknowledge the beast, and don’t let it crawl under my skin when it taunts me. I choose to react in opposition to what feels normal - even if it scares the shit out of me. And I choose to walk away when, instead of aiding my growth, the beast is crushing my spirit. Because not all spaces are safe. Because not every battle is meant to be fought. Because I choose to create my own stories and to shut down the Ghosts of Narrative’s Past.

Subscribe now

I’m sneaking in with one last plea (ok, never last) to subscribe. I’m trying to buy a house and the mortgage is too damn high!

“Yes” forms in my vocal cords, rises from my throat, and slides out of my mouth so easily that I barely have time to ask myself, “Is this what I really want?” If this relationship, this friendship, or this career move feels wrong on an intuitive level, why am I agreeing to it in the first place? Because I fear that saying “no” will lead to inertia, shut doors, and, potentially, a lack of opportunities in love, my career, and finances. It’s like that episode in Sex and the City where Samantha succumbs to dating The Turtle, a charmless Wall street guru that has terrible breath and even cornier pickup lines, after being ditched by a date. Because even sexy and confident AF Samantha feels the brunt of rejection. She settles and decides to transform the Turtle into a man she can commit to and would want to fuck.

So many of us do this, don’t we? Whether we settle in marriage or a romantic partnership or we commit to a job until retirement because we’re too terrified to transition into a new field, we say “yes” when it doesn’t feel right.

And when we say “yes” to people and circumstances that don’t align with who we are and what we desire, we block what is truly meant for us.

Saying “yes” to a man due to loneliness doesn’t allow the right partner to come along because you’re not even available.

Saying “yes” to a job where you work 60 hours a week doesn’t allow you to spend time with your family.

Saying “yes” to a 3-hour work commute impedes you from taking evening walks on the beach, at the park, or even go to Happy Hour.

So, I challenge you (and myself) to dig deep when making decisions. The next time you are asked for a favor or an option arises in your career or personal life, ask yourself: is this what I really want? Does this really align with the life and lifestyle that I ultimately desire? If you feel a kick in your gut like you’re about to give birth to a 9-pound baby, the answer is “no.”

And when you say “no,” say so confidently. Say so knowing that you’re on track to living your life as you see fit. Eventually, you’ll say “yes” to what stirs you and what serves you. In the end, that is always the right answer.

Don’t forget Love Trips

I republished Love Trips in 2019 with some extra juicy stories. If you haven’t read it yet, Love Trips is a collection of stories sharing my relationship stumbles (see: funny dating woes, sexcapades, and drama de telenovela). Here’s an excerpt to give you a taste:

My next brujo was Arnold, a Dominican-Spanish-speaking Haitian recommended by a childhood friend. His spiritual center was located in the Bronx downstairs of an income tax/real estate/cash delivery service. It seemed a bit sketchy, but hey, at least he had an office! As soon as I entered the dark hallway that led to his spiritual center, a tall and slender Dominican woman greeted me. In Spanish, she directed me to take a seat and offered me a cup of water. I politely declined and masked my fear of the unknown with a smile.

Love Trips is still available on Amazon (paperback and Kindle). Grab a copy here!

That’s all for now! Hit that share button to send this free newsletter to friends that would love my content. Haven’t subscribed yet? Please do! Thank you for all your support!

Share

I fly when feeling unworthy because that armor is what keeps me safe, and it’s easier than working through the muck.

For instance, I recall a situation at work where I was met with a task that intimidated me and, in turn, triggered my self-worth. Would I look stupid? What if I can’t do it? What will that look like? Will they fire me? I wanted to run away and hide. And I did…metaphorically. I made an excuse and pawned the task off to someone else, which was a better strategy than my norm. When external factors trigger my feelings of unworthiness, I quit. Or I bury my head in the sand and remain steadfast in my “I’m not going to confront this shit” stubbornness.  

I’m learning to work through this by realizing the root of that behavior. I can attribute it to my childhood where I’d find myself running for cover after my dad’s violent outbursts. To this day, I wonder if I have dust mites floating in my lungs from the nights I spent under my bed. This pattern of behavior, which began as self-protection, still exists. 

I run away when feeling unworthy because I am protecting myself from any and all situations that trigger my battle with self-worth. 

Is this the healthiest response? No, ma’am. (Unrelated, I was called ma’am recently and I also wanted to run away.) It’s what I know, it’s what’s easy. But what we know and what’s easy isn’t always what’s best for us. So, how do we change it? How do we stop bolting and learn to remain in uncomfortable situations so we actually learn something?

• By identifying the fear

• By understanding that feelings of unworthiness may never completely go away

• By being self-aware and in that moment, when we are triggered, doing the opposite of what we know

As for me, I want to sit and fight for the right things. I want to use my defense mechanism, my flight response, to cope with, “I gotta go, this shit is dangerous,” type of conflict. I am doing things differently. I am staying and fighting for what’s right, for what will help me evolve, and, ultimately, what will help me heal. 

That’s It for Me!

As always, thank you for your support and for reading this here newsletter. As an avid and passionate storyteller, creating brings me so much joy.

I love this space and I hope you do too! And if you do, share this newsletter with others who will love, appreciate, and resonate with me and my message.

Share

I’m sneaking in with one last plea (ok, never last) to subscribe. I’m trying to buy a house and the mortgage is too damn high!

Subscribe now

I thought I’d have a nervous breakdown when New Yorkers were told to stay home due to The Rona. Like most, I felt terrified and emotionally distraught due to the lives lost and the unknown. Yet, somehow this new normal saved me. I was forced to stay home, alone for days without distractions, especially when my 4-year-old son stayed with his father. I couldn’t grab drinks at a bar with close friends from the city, escape to New Jersey to visit my best friend or go to a salsa party with Long Island acquaintances. I had to sit with myself, my feelings, and my thoughts all of the fucking time.

It wasn’t easy at first, I’ve always hated being alone. Like my mom and my sister and my eldest cousin. My deep loathing for isolation is obviously hereditary as is my need to fill empty spaces and quiet rooms with laughter and camaraderie. One day during The Spring/Summer/Fall/Winter Lockdown of 2020 I meditated for the first time in years and I realized that being alone fills me with great discomfort because that means I have to sit with myself.

In case you’re new here, I’ve struggled with feelings of unworthiness. I can’t recall how old I was when I first felt unlovable or not enough. I feel like those feelings have always lingered deep within. At some point in my life, that seed was planted. A trunk grew then the branches and the leaves flourished. Before I knew it, my feelings of unworthiness were rooted. And nothing I did or tried, including therapy, shook its foundation.

That’s until The Rona hit and I had to confront my choices - past and present. Like why I chose to be in a relationship with a man that pinpointed all of my flaws as early as our third date. And why didn’t I stand up for myself (instead of taking it and trying to change myself for him) when he did?

Or why I nurture one-sided friendships with Damsels in Distress. I save them from themselves only to feel used and undervalued.

And why can’t I shake the need for validation? I crave to hear a “thank you” when I help out a friend or an “I’m so proud of you!” when I share a win. I know that’s the self-worth shit I struggle with, so why can’t I just let it go when I don’t receive it? And why do I constantly attract people into my life that do not give it?

Why do I overshare even when my intuition shouts, “Stop telling them your business!” Why do I distract myself with other people’s problems? Why do I ignore my intuition only to endure the same negative experiences my instincts warned me about?

I don’t have the answers to all of these questions despite being in deep contemplation for most of 2020. However, I know this: I am so proud of myself and how much I’ve grown.

I now see how isolation and even loneliness helped me become the woman that I am today. So I embrace my rock-solid trunk despite the rough edges. I bow down to the cracks in my branches, which are brittle from pain yet brimming with new life, creativity and hope. I thank my dewy leaves and watch them shoot high into the sky even when it’s difficult to flourish and beam. And my roots? They’ve mutated, creating a new, stronger and more self-assured foundation, allowing me to love me for me.

And I love myself. I can finally say that. I say that and mean it.

More from Me

Here are more stories to dig into, some freebies, and news about what I’m working on:

1. I was published in Well + Good and I’m so proud! Although I’ve been writing professionally since 2006, seeing my name on a story/article online and in print never gets old. Read my story, How the Pandemic Made Me More Financially Responsible.

2. New subscribers! I want to thank my recent subscribers. I love holding space here. I love that I can share my stories and write how I see fit and that you’re enjoying my tales enough to become paid subscribers. There is a lot more to come in 2021, so please share this newsletter and subscribe if you have not done so already.

   Subscribe now

Gif from Tenor

Thank you for rocking with me all of 2020! I truly appreciate all of your emails and views. I began this newsletter to have a creative outlet that is all mine, to speak my truth, and to create a space for other women of color. I’m excited for its growth, we’re blowing up in 2021! And of course, make sure to hit that reply button if you like what you read or have anything else to say. This gal likes validation!

The last plea of 2020! Join the ride with a full subscription, it helps this single momma save for a house and retirement. I’ll be 43 next year and want to cry. See you in 2021!

Subscribe now

I had a knack for ignoring my intention. It would whisper, it would gnaw at me, it would snap and whimper, and I’d shush her, flick her off, or convince myself she was full of nonsense. I listened to others before her. I entered into romantic relationships and continued platonic friendships despite her pleas. I would have saved myself a world of trouble if I would have listened.

I wouldn’t have gone against my principles and moved in with my ex-fiancé then boyfriend of only 1 year. I desired to be married before shacking up with a man, yet I compromised my beliefs for a “love” that turned toxic.

My intuition always knew this relationship was all wrong for me. She pinched my ass during my third date with my ex-fiancé then boyfriend when he sat me down for a serious conversation. He had concerns that I “talk to much” and feared he would “not feel heard” and then “turn to someone else” to share his feelings. I interpreted his words as constructive criticism and worked hard to be a less talkative, energetic and vibrant woman, and a better listener (a skill that I’ve always wanted to improve) overall. My intuition, however, knew immediately that my ex-fiancé wanted to change me. On that third date she clearly understood that he would be unfaithful if I didn’t become the woman that he wanted.

I didn’t think he was capable of disrespecting me and hurting me in that way. Until he did. He almost broke me when he betrayed me with her. When he constantly stood up for her when she and I had conflict. When he put her before me and practically everyone else in his life.

It turns out, my intuition was right all along. I was just desperate for love and too blinded by a conditional love to realize it.

I don’t regret our relationship. Even now that my ex-fiancé then boyfriend is still with her. Because I have Evan, who is one of the greatest loves of my life. Because I have me, the greatest love of my life. Because I have my relationship with God and he’s guided me and helped me grow through the pain. Because I have my intuition and finally embrace her, fully.

One last plea (ok, never last) to join the ride with a full subscription, it helps this single momma pay the rent and pay someone to shovel my snow (damn, blizzard)!

Subscribe now

This is a weekly-ish newsletter where I share authentic musings on love, mom life, mindset, self-love, and more with a dose of humor.

Yup. I hear it now. I know that I have a major problem with setting boundaries. It’s learned behavior that I’m trying to undo. And it ain’t easy to set boundaries when you come from a typical Latinx family.

Growing up with a single mom and two siblings, we lived in close quarters. From my eldest sister, who can be a total Bossy Pants, to my very Dominican momma (no locked doors and no lip, either, niña!), I had no room to set boundaries. I am the middle child. The second in command although I just try to run my own life. That’s not the case for the matriarch of my family, who crosses lines that I’ve drawn in the sand frequently, despite how deep I dig the stick.

Exhibit A: Mami found a pack of condoms in my dresser when I was in college. What was she doing in my dresser, you ask? Rummaging. In her mind, it was her God-giving right as my momma, despite my very American protestations.

“Mami, why are you looking at my dresser anyway? I’m an adult and that’s an invasion of privacy.”

“Que privacy, ni privacy! La que mando aqui soy yo.”

Translation: she’s the boss and privacy is for white folks. And no lip, either, niña!

My eldest sister also loves to be in control. Often times she is so consumed with her chaotic work and family life that she doesn’t even realize when she’s overstepping. In all fairness, her life is no fucking joke. 

As reasonable as I can be, I still see it and feel it when I’m talked over and interrupted. I also know that I do this to others and they probably feel as unheard as I do.

Learned behavior is a bitch to break. And like many of my friends, who have called me out on my terrible habit of interrupting, I’ve made it perfectly clear to the folks in my life that certain patterns need to change.

I’m setting boundaries like a fucking grown up.

Boundary: You will not force me to communicate when I want distance.

Boundary: You will not push me into submission or try to change my mind.

Boundary: Your life will not take precedence over my shit. 

My life shit? It’s heavy and thick and stinky. It manifests itself as a limiting belief that seeps into my psyche and sprouts feelings of self-doubt and a scarcity mindset. My life shit includes feeling that my words don’t have value. That my feelings don’t matter.

I know that my baggage is mine to digest and to work through. That my triggers, which include being ignored, talked over, backed into a corner and put in a box, are mine to disarm. So I set boundaries to help me cope, as I should. That’ll teach ‘em, I think. I follow through for a while. I don’t pick up the phone when I rather not converse. I stand up for myself when I feel unsupported. And sometimes, I revert to what I know as do the people in my life.

When the boundaries in my life stop being honored I now choose step back. I remind myself that the line in the sand is drawn so that I can grow as needed. And if I ever find myself sitting at a bar, waiting for a man to show up, I find the patience in my heart to forgive myself. I walk away much faster than before. And I try again.