2. Feminism to Feminine

There’s an incomparable sense of peace that washes over me when I decide to leave a job. Like… why does quitting feel better than starting? Out with the old, in with the “FREEDOM.” Anyone else? No? Just me? Okay.

Anyway… back to the point (which there might not be one… apologies.)

As detail-oriented as I am (borderline chronic OCD), my head has always lived in the clouds. My brain doesn’t stop imagining the best version of something until I either make it happen or receive it, wrapped in a bow, straight from the heavens. Shoutout to sweet baby Jesus.

In high school, I was a full-blown hopeless romantic. My dream? To be a wife to a caring, passionate man and a mom to three. Picture The Notebook with a sprinkle of Fifty Shades. Romance, chemistry, passion—and just enough obsession and jealousy to keep the fire going. As my boyfriend says, I love that emo/toxic love. And not toxic like, “I’m gonna show up at your location.” More like, “The thought of not being with you—I can’t breathe.” Is that too much to ask for? Like… you should be dead when I’m not around. We love Anakin for that. Is she crazy? I low key am.

But since life hasn’t fully unfolded that way (yet?), I had to pivot. (PIVOT!)

Now don’t get me wrong—becoming a strong, independent woman wasn’t a backup plan. It was empowering. In fact, in my 20s, the idea of being a wife and mom started to feel like the “settling” path. I was in my boss woman era. Apartment of my own. Working from home. Making good money. Owning my life. You could say I was… SLAYING. And yet, once I hit that milestone, I realized something: that whole “independent woman who needs no man” thing? Yeah… not the vibe. Rather, it was actually a super lonely place to be in. #depresso

I didn’t know what I really wanted until… I met my current bae. Who gently (not so gently 😜) put me in my place. And I was like… wait. I like this?? Plot twist.

Don’t get me wrong—we’ve had our fair share of ups and downs (shoutout again to God’s grace), but something shifted. I ended up in a place where I felt 100% safe (trigger warning) submitting to him. That word used to make me cringe. But now? It kinda makes me feel… at peace. Taken care of. Protected. I feel like someone is hyping me up in my head right now. Like: YASS. GET YO MANS. Guys, I’m telling you—I’m crazy, but in a cute way… so you’ll never suspect it.

So here comes my hot take: I 99% believe most women want a man who knows how to gently, respectfully, and lovingly put them in their place. Yeah, I said it. And if someone says they don’t… maybe they just haven’t experienced it the right way yet. (I know. I KNOW. Bear with me. A chill pill must be taken.)

The key is this: a man who respects himself and also respects you. One who can meet your strength without making it a competition. One who calms you down without making you feel small. It’s giving balance. It’s giving peace. It’s giving “I got you, babe.” Anyone else dying, or is it just me? Because I’m DEAD. Wait—but can we add man of God on top of that? That just rose me back from the dead. Might not have been three days, but it was three seconds. Can I get an amen?! As my pastor Jentezen Franklin would say, I’m preaching more than you’re letting on!

Here’s the ultimate example: Rip Wheeler and Beth Dutton from Yellowstone. If you know… you know. She’s unhinged in the most iconic way, and he’s just… solid. Loyal. Steady. He doesn’t try to fix her or shrink her, but he’s also not afraid to check her when she needs it. And somehow, that’s exactly what keeps her crazy from going off the rails (for the most part). Cause let’s be honest—sometimes the beast deserves to be unleashed. 

So, when I finally felt that kind of energy in my relationship, I fully became the “Love my man. Thank you to my man.” type of woman. And if you’ve never seen Yellowstone, do yourself a favor and binge a Rip + Beth compilation. TRUST. It will change your life.

Anyway… remember when I started this post talking about jobs? Yeah. Same. It’s giving ADHD brain. Or maybe just me being thirty and already losing it. Honestly, the sanity’s been gone, so let’s just blame the ADHD.

So. Tune in next time as we take a deep dive into my current career existential crisis: Do I stay a teacher… or move on to… TBD, because there’s absolutely no plan.

Love this for me!!!

1. Debbie Downer

I’m currently writing this from my high school bedroom as a freshly turned 30-year-old, fully caffeinated and on antidepressants. You could say I have a bit of a pep in my step, as my dad tells me. The perfect dynamic trio? I’d say so.

Recently my boyfriend has been calling me “Little Debbie” for being such a downer (all the pun intended) which has been both quite hilarious and... unfortunately, very true. It’s because I’m not where I thought I’d be by now—married, with kids, working as a creative director, living in a beach house, sipping coffee, reading my bible, and just getting paid to think. Instead, I’m back at my parents’ house, questioning my career choices... once again, praying to God for some type of sign. 

Because I’m not in my beach house yet getting paid to think, as one thinks, I’ve started to wonder if I’m even on the right path at all. Maybe God has a completely different plan for me? And after a lot of overthinking (as I do so well), I’ve decided to shift my career path. To what you ask? Great question.

Moving on—here’s the condensed-ish version of my “professional” career so far to catch you up on how I got to this point. Starting with: I went to college for graphic design, worked as a designer for almost a decade, and started working remotely after COVID. I was living the dream—senior graphic designer, work from home, work life balance, amazing boss, supportive team. Until I realized that no social interaction was slowly sucking the soul out of me. Didn’t expect that one, considering how much I hate social interactions. But after a year, I was like, “Wait, do I need human interaction to feel... happy?” At that point, it was too late and I completely lost all meaning to life, so I quit my job and decided to become an art teacher. Why? Who knows. Just kidding, I actually do know. I guess I always had this vision of myself as an art teacher—recreating the amazing class my high school teacher did for us.

In no time, I found an art teacher position, only to be told I needed to teach it in Spanish. Cool. Sure, let’s roll with that. I am from the motherland of Puerto Rico, after all. Then someone who I believe worked for the school county found out I was a graphic designer, and they got really excited. They asked if I wanted to change the program from art to design. The incentive was a slight pay raise. Emphasis on the word slight. Of course, I said “sure” again. Every dollar has its job. Oh, and did I mention this was for middle school? Yeah. Insane, right? But for some reason, I said yes to it all. Thought I knew what I was getting myself into. Spoiler alert: I didn’t.

Instead of having fun teaching them how to draw and use Illustrator, I ended up signing up to be their therapist and occasionally, more often than not, their human punching bag. One day, I’m designing for a professional marketing team, and the next, I’m explaining to preteen boys why it’s not ideal to purposefully fart in public. Or why being expected to commit to one guy romantically is NOT a red flag.

I love those kids, but oh—my—god, I am exhausted. It’s been a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but now I’m at a point where I’m like, “Never again.” So now, here I am, back to square one. Not corporate, not education... so, “what the sigma” (as the gen-z kids say these days) am I going to do next? 

Tune in, folks! Let’s find out together as I go on this marvelous rollercoaster ride that will probably end in the catastrophic downfall of my life. I know, I know. God will use it for His glory. But I’m deep down feeling super pessimistic at the moment, so bear with me as I continue Debbie-ing through this process.