Portals

Hey y’all, did you miss me?

Life started lifing again. And I had to take a step back and lock in with my studies and my mental health because I was on the verge of losing it. I’m not gonna lie. The devil came knocking a few times… and yeah, I may have cracked the door once or twice. But hey, I’m human.

So where do I start?

Let’s talk about it.

So y’all remember the post I made around Valentine’s Day, My Funny Valentine? The one where I poured my feelings out about a long-lost friend who crossed the line and how I missed the friendship.

Sidebar, there was a part two. A few of y’all caught it before I deleted it.

Yeah… we’re gonna act like that never happened.

But just know, a lot has transpired.

So, yeah. About that.

I reached out. We reconnected. And in my mind, we were rebuilding a friendship.

In his mind? We were rebuilding a fuckship.

And for a second… I entertained it. Let me not lie and act like I was confused. I knew exactly what I was doing. I just wanted...look I be lonely sometimes.

But something about a man, when he finally gets what he wants, his ego inflates and the mask slips. The games come out full force.

And that’s exactly what happened.

The difference this time?

I wasn’t that girl anymore.

I wasn’t sitting there confused, crying, wondering why he couldn’t see me for me or why it was so hard for him to treat me with basic decency. I wasn’t looking at him through those early 20s, rose-colored glasses.

I saw him clearly.

Yeah, there was still an attraction. But the attraction did not outweigh my self-dignity.

In this little three-week entanglement, it became very evident that this man was not misunderstood. He did not value me as a person, let alone a friend.

He was a creep I had put on a pedestal.

And that pedestal? It was built off confusion. Hot and cold behavior. Mixed signals I romanticized into something meaningful.

After way too much back and forth, and one conversation too long, I had to drag him through the pits of hell and humble him properly.

And it didn’t even have to go that way.

But he tried to little girl me. Tried to take the moral high ground like he wasn’t moving foul the entire time.

And that’s when I decide to snatch his already receding hairline and push it back 5 inches more.

Yeah. It’s time to hurt somebody’s feelings.

And it won’t be mine.

I don’t know if it’s an African proverb or a Bible verse, but one thing is true, there is nothing sharper than a woman’s tongue.

And that is something I possess.

With the fiercest razor that lies between my lips, I cut him deep, I cut him hard, and I made sure to leave him with something to think about.

In the past, I would’ve gone back and forth about what I said, replayed it, questioned it.

This time?

I stood on it.

And it felt good. Better than sex.

Safe to say, we won’t be rekindling anything ever again.

And I’m more than okay with that.

Because here’s the part that really matters…

When people are not meant to be in your life, and you keep trying to force it, everything that matters to you starts to crumble.

That’s why I said the devil came knocking.

Because the moment I let him back in, everything started going left.

School? Stressful.
Mental? Shaky.
Life? In shambles.

But the moment I shut that door, it was like I shut a whole portal.

And things started getting back on track.

Now, I’m not saying he’s evil or a bad person. He’s just not good for me. And the energy he brings into my life? It doesn’t align with where I’m going.

That last interaction solidified it.

Now… let’s get into school.

Whew.

Social work is a field rooted in advocacy. And I think a lot of people, especially in academic spaces, forget that. Students and professors alike.

This past semester, especially with my internship, has been one of the toughest seasons of my life. I’m talking every single day, I contemplated quitting. It did not help that I had one particular professor who seemed hell-bent on failing me.

It got to the point where I had to escalate the situation because the treatment was unacceptable. But in doing that, I didn’t just advocate for myself, I advocated for others too.

And that’s something I’ve never had a problem doing, advocating, speaking up, pushing back when something isn’t right.

But… follow me here.

A lot of students were dealing with the same issue I had with that professor. And while I didn’t mind advocating, I struggled with something deeper.

I didn’t want to be the token Black girl.

The one who always has to speak up. The one who ends up carrying the weight of everyone else’s silence. Because yes, the situation affected me directly, but at the same time, I kept asking myself… why me?

Why am I always the one?

That’s something I really battled with this semester.

Because on one hand, I feel obligated to speak up. It’s in me. It’s who I am. But on the other hand, it does something to you when you look around and realize you’re the only one talking… especially when the same people who were loud in private suddenly go quiet when it’s time to be public.

I don’t know.

That’s been the story of my life. And you would think I’d be used to it by now, but I’m not.

It’s still a question I wrestle with… why me?

Signed, a Black woman.

Anyway.

While I was dealing with all of that external chaos, confusion about my grades, navigating personalities, advocating, I had a moment where something clicked about social work.

Not something new, something I already knew, but this semester forced me to feel it.

We always talk about how nurses eat their young, but nobody really talks about how those same dynamics show up in other helping professions.

Because they do.

Anytime someone has moral authority over you, common sense can disappear real quick, and ego steps in.

Y’all remember first semester? I was so excited. Talking about how my MSW program felt like a family. I was making TikToks, hyping it up, really believing I found my people.

And I remember someone commented, “Oh, it’s gonna humble you soon.”

At the time, I didn’t take it seriously. I wasn’t gonna call her a hater, but I definitely thought, “That won’t be my experience.”

Yeah.

My situation became hers real quick.

And what I learned through all of this…

Your biggest ally might come from a completely different walk of life.

And your biggest hater?

Might share your skin.

I’m gonna keep it cute, because I share this link with everybody, and people are petty enough to take what you say, twist it, and try to turn it into something it’s not. I’m not interested in giving anyone material for that.

But I will say this.

There are a few people whose intentions in this field I truly question.

Because what I’ve observed, more than once, is that for some people, the performance is louder than the purpose. It looks like advocacy on the surface, it sounds like solidarity in conversation, but the moment it requires integrity, especially when it’s inconvenient, that energy disappears.

And that’s been… eye-opening.

Especially in a space that is supposed to be rooted in service, ethics, and protecting vulnerable populations.

Because for some, this isn’t about service.

It’s about power.

And I’ll leave it at that.

Now, let’s talk about my internship.

Everything was going perfectly… until I ran into that one client.

You know the one. The one every social worker dreads. The one where everything seems fine, y’all are on the same page, communication is flowing… and then out of nowhere, they escalate.

So instead of coming to me directly about an issue, even though we had an open-door policy and she had no problem bringing up every other minor concern, she went straight to my supervisor.

And I’m not even gonna lie, that bothered me.

Not because I was wrong, because I wasn’t, but because it felt like a lack of respect. Like you didn’t even give me the conversation I deserved. You didn’t give me the chance to address it. You just… went over my head.

And it made me look bad over something so small.

Now, where I went wrong, and I’ll own this, is that I shut down.

Completely.

I withdrew from my supervisor, from the client, from everything. I didn’t want to engage at all. And while I understand why I reacted that way, it didn’t help the situation. It made something small look bigger than it needed to be.

That’s my defense mechanism. And it’s something I’m actively working on.

Eventually, we had a conversation with my field instructor and my supervisor. And I will say this, I’m very grateful for my supervisor. His clinical lens, his LCSW perspective, it showed up exactly when it needed to.

He pointed out things about my response, things I already knew deep down, and I was receptive to it. Because I do want to grow.

Despite how that situation ended, I’m actually looking forward to continuing to work with him next semester. That says a lot.

But overall… this semester?

It took me through it.

I damn near faced homelessness. I was robbing Peter to pay Paul, just to get hit from another direction. It felt like everything that could go wrong, did.

But now?

Things are finally starting to settle.

I’m on break. I’m recalibrating. I’m writing again.

And for the first time in a while… I feel okay.

I guess I’ll end on a positive note.

I’ve been opening myself up more to meeting people here in Austin. I won’t say friends, that’s a strong word… let’s call them associates.

The only problem is, I’m real tired.

So anytime someone tries to set something up, there’s a high chance I’m going to cancel. My sleep is very important to me, and I’m not negotiating that for nobody.

But I will say, I’ve been surrounding myself with a more diverse group of people. And in doing that, I’ve been learning… and unlearning… a lot about myself too.

And one thing for sure, two things for certain…

I’m not entertaining anything from my past.

We blocking all that out.

It’s actually kind of funny, because at one point I was hoping, praying, that a certain someone would make a special guest appearance. (Read Choosey Lover)

Now?

I don’t want nobody from my past. Even if I was the fucked up individual towards them. Deal with it. Neither one of us need closure.

I’m moving forward.

New people.
New life.
New city.
No drama.

And on top of that, I am officially 50% done with my program.

In less than eight months, I will be living the life I’ve always dreamed of.

Y’all got me for the next two weeks, so be on the lookout for more writing from me.

Until then…

Toodles.