Every year, I get a little wiser about what I let in and what I keep out. Used to be, I’d carry everybody else’s weight—friends, family, men—like it was my job. Thought that’s what it meant to be strong. But I know better now.
It ain’t just about guardin’ my peace. It’s about guardin’ my body, too.
This whole situation with my health? It made me sit down and face some hard truths. I let my guard down, ignored the signs, and now I’m the one dealin’ with the aftermath. And yeah, I wanna blame Malcolm—I do. But Dr. Serena made it clear: this is about me. My body. My recovery. Whether it was his size or just too much force, the fact is, I gotta heal. I gotta respect what my body’s been through, ‘cause if I don’t, who will?
And that goes for more than just my health.
I used to think love meant holdin’ a man down, bein’ there no matter what. Even when he was reckless with me. Even when I felt myself shrinkin’ to make space for his problems. But why should I sacrifice myself—my body, my energy—for someone who don’t even handle me with care?
Nah. That ain’t love. That’s self-destruction.
Now, I see boundaries different. It ain’t just about cuttin’ people off—it’s about protectin’ what’s mine. My time. My energy. My body. If a man can’t handle that, he don’t deserve access to me, plain and simple.
I ain’t bitter, I’m just awake. And when you wake up, you don’t go back to sleep.
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