I’ve Been Writing My Life Into Existence

What if the life you’re dreaming about isn’t built in one defining moment, but in a thousand ordinary ones you almost forget to notice? June reminded me to look back before rushing forward.

There are some months that pass quietly.

And then there are months like June.

Months that move so quickly you barely have time to catch your breath. Months filled with celebrations, endings, beginnings, travel plans, laughter around dinner tables, journal entries written before bed, and moments so beautiful you promise yourself you’ll remember them forever.

June was one of those months.

As an assistant principal, June always feels like a marathon. There were graduations, retirements (we literally retired 5 legacies who served over 30+ years each), celebrations, report cards, and the emotional closing of another school year. This year also marked my fourth year as an assistant principal and as an adjunct lecturer; two roles that continue to stretch me, ground me, and remind me why I fell in love with education in the first place.

Outside of school, life didn’t slow down either. June in NYC is packed, Puerto Rican Day parades, Juneteenth, PRIDE, literally all my intersectionalities celebrated in one month!

There were experiences with my wife, time with my suegros, community events, queer markets, tarot readings, collaborations that once lived only in my imagination, and countless quiet moments spent journaling after everyone else had gone to sleep.

By the time my summer vacation officially arrived, I realized something.

I hadn’t stopped to appreciate just how beautiful June had been. It was heavy and beautiful in one.

The last afternoon of this June I was organizing and I stumbled across an old notebook.

Inside was a list I had written on March 26, 2010.

Across the top I had written:

Before I Die.

Marry.

Travel. (With various places listed, mind you I hadn’t yet left the country not even to PR.)

Find true love.

Own a home.

Find a successful career.

Write a book.

Be happy.

Be a role model.

I sat there smiling.

Not because every dream had come true, (yet).

But because so many already had.

As an Afro-Boricua woman, Puerto Rico has never simply been somewhere I visit. It is part of my blood, my history, my family, and my identity. Every trip since my first trip in 2014, reconnects me with pieces of myself. Beautifully, it is also where I met my wife in 2022. One day, we hope to own a little piece of the island that has already given us so much life.

That same list reminded me how much of the world I’ve already had the privilege to experience.

I lived in Spain as an au pair.

I’ve wandered through Italy, France, Portugal, Morocco, Colombia, the Dominican Republic, and many beautiful states throughout Mexico. La Paz remains one of my favorite places I’ve ever visited. I’ve returned to Puerto Rico more times than I can count, and there are still so many places waiting for me; Egypt, Japan, Korea, Greece, Brazil, and countless others.

The list wasn’t just about travel.

It was about believing my life could be bigger than the experiences I survived as a child who went to 2 elementary schools, three middle schools and three high schools. I moved often as a child because my mother was doing everything she could to escape domestic violence. Temporary housing became part of our story. I left home at 17, to live on my Ti Ti’s couch in East New York, Brooklyn and figured out adulthood on my own with the community I could find.

And somehow…

It has been possible!

What made me smile most wasn’t the travel.

It was reading the line:

Find a stable career full of success.

Seventeen-year-old me imagined one career.

Life lovingly laughed.

Today I serve as an assistant principal, in education going on 13 years and 10 years in the NYC DOE.

I teach future educators as an adjunct lecturer at my alma maters in CUNY.

I write.

I blog.

I’m building Tarot with Dalila.

I dream about books.

I create spaces where people can pause long enough to hear themselves again.

For a long time, I thought I would eventually have to choose.

Education or creativity?

Servant leadership or entrepreneurship?

June reminded me that I don’t have to choose.

They’re all expressions of the same purpose.

Helping people reconnect with themselves.

One thing I kept returning to throughout June was my journal.

Not because I needed answers.

Because I needed somewhere to be honest.

After participating in one of my first queer markets, I found myself writing pages filled with gratitude.

I thanked the universe.

I thanked my wife.

I thanked the organizers.

I thanked myself.

I wrote about trusting my path, choosing courage, and refusing to let judgment interrupt my flow.

Another evening, after reading tarot for hours at a market, I came home exhausted but deeply fulfilled. People shared that the readings felt personal, as though I truly saw them. One message after the other simply said my reading had helped, actions put into place, healing was happening.

I cried.

Not because I believed I had all the answers.

But because someone trusted me enough to help them ask better questions.

That has always been the work.

Whether inside a classroom or sitting across from someone holding a deck of cards.

Toward the end of June, I pulled the Five of Pentacles reversed.

“Things are easing up.”

“The light is near.”

I wrote one question beneath it:

Am I accepting support when it arrives?

The next morning, on my first official day of summer vacation, I pulled the Ten of Cups.

Instead of writing about success or productivity, I wrote about what home feels like.

Home is my wife.

Home is Whisky and Lara curled beside us.

Home is good food.

A really good book.

An audiobook on a walk.

Watching a show together.

Laughing until our stomachs hurt.

Home is being at the beach!

Home is exercise, running and loving myself naturally!

Simply being.

For someone who spends so much of life chasing goals, that journal entry reminded me that fulfillment doesn’t always arrive wrapped inside achievement.

Sometimes it arrives on an ordinary Tuesday evening.

The following morning I pulled the Two of Wands.

Everything feels possible.

Time to plan.

Reach for it.

Reading those journal entries now feels like reading a conversation with myself.

Accept support.

Recognize home.

Dream bigger.

June quietly guided me through uncertainty.

It reminded me to trust expansion instead of perfection.

To celebrate becoming instead of arriving.

To let every part of my life speak to one another.

Then, almost as an afterthought, I wrote:

“All intertwined.”

Exactly.

Teaching.

Writing.

Tarot.

Leadership.

Travel.

Community.

Family.

Healing.

None of them are competing anymore.

They’re simply different ways I live out the same purpose.

As I look toward July, I don’t pretend to have everything figured out.

There are still books I hope read and books I hope to write.

Countries I hope to visit.

Another home we hope to own.

Dreams that haven’t introduced themselves yet.

But if finding that old notebook taught me anything, it’s this:

Write the list.

Journal the ordinary moments.

Take the trip.

Say yes to the collaboration.

Love your people deeply.

Keep dreaming even when you don’t know how the dream will unfold.

One day, you’ll find an old notebook tucked away in a drawer, smile at the younger version of yourself, and realize you’ve been writing your life into existence all along.

Thank you, June.

You were busy.

You were full.

You were beautiful 🌈.

And perhaps most importantly…

You reminded me that I’ve been writing my life into existence all along.