I’m a Bad Bitch

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Today I had to remind myself that I’m a bad bitch. For a hot minute, I forgot about all of the shit I had to overcome to get to where I am. I had to survive for such a long time that when surviving turned into thriving, I didn’t notice.

The funny thing about change is that it happens gradually. I didn’t even realize that I went from wondering about how I was going to deal with my sexual abuse turned into wondering about what I wanted to accomplish next. When fear and trauma no longer became something that brought shame to me, but rather something I embraced as a part of my life my herstory, that’s the moment I became stronger.

My strength didn’t come from other people’s views, but rather my own. I made a decision to stop hiding from my past, and live with it. Let’s get real, I’be been through some shit people couldn’t comprehend.

The sad part about all of this, is that I forgot. Things I wished for growing up, I accomplished and I forgot to recognize the accomplishments. I started to compare myself to other. Frankly, I got so accustomed to worrying about third problems problems, that I forgot about my herstory. My experiences. The experiences that despite the ugliness make me who I am.

I forgot that I was a bad fucking bitch. My apologies, that I AM a bad fucking bitch with a badass support system. A system that love the bisexual black fiery, tarot and crystal loving, energy reading soul that I am.

You’re a bad fucking ass, and don’t you forget it. If you do, remember who you are.

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Friendship is Tough, but Letting Go is Harder

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I wasn’t always a sociable person, a people’s person. Actually, I was just the opposite. When I was in middle school and high school, I had a tight group of friends of about four people. People I could rely on and trust. I was friendly enough to everyone else. I knew a lot of people, but I can’t say we were friends.

It wasn’t until university that things changed for me. Once I hit nineteen, I could legally drink – not like I was drinking beforehand – and that’s when things changed for me.  Other than the alcohol, the other thing that changed was me. I was developing into myself, not physically but mentally. I was growing – still am. I was more in-tuned with who I was. I was also working with a therapist, so I could start the process of healing from my past trauma.

With all of these changes that were taking place, I was able to find people who were real. Who understood the pain I felt from my trauma, who’ve experienced things similar to me, who had the same values and ambitions. I created friendships, which were based on truth, honesty, and communication. They exposed themselves to me and I did the same – figuratively of course. This marked the end of my reign of solitude, I bloomed for the first time in my life. Thing is, no one told me that blooming, that letting people in would be so damn difficult. The connections I built, made me want to build more to expand my horizons. And I did, which is all fun and dandy till shit hits the fan.

You’re probably wondering what the hell is the point of this post. Be patient, I’m getting there. Recently, one of my close friends and I had a falling out. It was completely out of the blue. I didn’t see it coming at all. I really valued her friendship, she was one of the people that I opened up too while I was in university.

We went to a mutual friend’s birthday, and she was so cold and distant towards me. I actually went home and cried in my partner’s arm because it hurt. More than that, it was unexpected and awkward. Everyone else at the birthday noticed the friction between us, which made them uncomfortable. I tried to reach out, call her and see if we can work things out. However, it was just excuse after excuse. Last week it hit me, if she thinks I don’t “add anything to her life,” then why on earth am I trying so hard? Friendship is tough, especially for someone who enjoyed their solitude, but letting go is way harder.

“Letting go means to come to the realization that some people are a part of your history, but not part of your destiny.”

The reason why it’s so damn hard to let go is because deep down, some part of us have hope. Hope that things will change. Hope that things can be different. Hope is good, but realizing that you deserve better is so much better.

New York City is GORGEOUS!

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