To The Moon And Back, But Hear Me Out.

Learning to stop overthinking messages and finally speak up in dating.

Haha! I remember the days when I was struggling to compose a hard-truth type of message to someone. It was hard because I hoped that the way I would write it would make that person stay in my life, change their mind... or at least finally understand.

It would reach a point, after many deleted versions of perfection, where my feelings would sound detached, like what they did wasn’t that bad. I would basically create the benefit of the doubt for someone who hadn’t earned it.

Whaaat?

So I would rather look cool as a cucumber than find my closure, speak my mind, reveal my pain, and hold up a mirror to someone’s cowardly or dishonest behaviour.

I’ve got to admit, with all my sweetness, I used to be the most toxic person in my life.

And again, I can’t blame myself for it. It’s not like anyone taught me how to stand up for myself. These days, rumour has it that most women are too shocked to know what to do with men when they ghost them or call them crazy for sending a long text. These accusations add up and at a certain point you get stuck in your ways if you’re a people-pleaser, right?

What do you do?

Something small and passive-aggressive, maybe? A block at max if they broke your heart? And maybe forgiveness comes quickly after you did that because you miss them and you end up taking the initiative and texting them again. But this time something cheeky or sweet…

Well... as for me...

After being a narc’s toy for six years and playing this humiliation game in which I brought myself to my knees, I’ve learned to speak the fuck up.

If someone is acting weird, I ask myself: Hmm... would I do that? Am I missing something? And supposing, let’s say, that I did do something wrong, does their reaction make sense proportionally to my action?

It became easy for me to see the truth.

In fact, I even leave some room for “what if it’s not the truth?” and tell myself: if I was wrong with this one, fuck it. You win.

But I won’t lose, not under my watch, pal, not under my watch.

And by losing, I mean my sense of self-worth, my self-respect, everything I’ve fought for while trying to understand what self-love is.

You know? I’m flipping sorry, but no one’s son is going to bother me to that level anymore.

I will ghost you. I will block you. I will be petty and enjoy my life.

I’ll make myself come at the thought of leaving you hanging, what do you think.

And if you’re lucky enough for me to find a reason to text you and give you feedback on how it felt for me, ayy... unless you’re a psycho, it’s gonna hit you.

Send that text, sister.

I don’t wanna know that someone ran off with your dignity and didn’t even get a lesson out of it.

My bestie always told me when I was single: leave these men better for the next woman they run into. As in, touch them in their blind spots, not where they already know they lack. And in a positive vocabulary: tell them the truth about how shit their behaviour was somehow making it look like this whole time you were observing them, not being charmed into the psych ward by them.

So I see this exercise of expressing myself as a form of... giving back to society. And I gotta admit, it does something to me. I feel like Superwoman, because I simply am.