break ups, dating, friendships, healing


I get it.

I finally get why people become angry and spiteful when they were seemingly joyful and light. As much as I am trying to resist what feels like the inevitable, it is a losing battle that I’m not sure I care to win anymore.

I am a giver. Not at the expense of my personal finances or health – I’m not a saint. But when I see people who are in need, I do what I can to help them. And 2018 demonstrated that my generosity, my willingness to extend myself, needs to be curbed, at a minimum.

Someone with whom I’d had a checkered friendship with took advantage of me. Even after forgiving her for several instances of abandoning me during the only times I ever needed anything, I continued to extend myself. And so, when she desperately needed help and had literally no one, not even her own family to turn to, I offered to let her live with me for an extremely modest fee. And when I asked for the money a month later, she refused, stating that because she never asked for help, and I offered, she didn’t owe me anything.

I’ve had to deal with the knowledge that someone who I invited into my space and my life would do something so callous, so selfish, that it’s hard to believe I was ever considered a friend in the first place.

This breakdown came on the heels of what I can only call the most emotionally draining and intense relationship I’ve been in. By my ex’s own admission, I poured everything into a relationship while ignoring my own major issues. He’s acknowledged multiple times that I am responsible for his newfound healing and reignited passion and focus.

Good for him. But where does that leave me?

The amount of times I’ve laid myself on the line for others only to be stabbed in the back or disregarded is embarrassing for someone who considers herself a self-care queen. Self-care isn’t painful. Self-care doesn’t leave you empty and barely willing to entertain men because you feel like the best parts of you are with someone who didn’t deserve it. Self-care doesn’t ignore a chaotic person’s habits and invites them in your home, anyway. Self-care is an act of rebellion. As black women, we need more than manicures and facials. We need to protect our peace by any means necessary. Aggressively.

As someone with depression, disappointing events, betrayals, and the like can have devastating consequences. I take ownership of my mental health and do what I can to ensure that I’m always in alignment with what’s best for me. For a long time, helping those close to me was an integral part of my healing. Not so much, these days.

As much as my family and friends associate me with my heart and my love for helping others, I have to hold what little bit of light I have left closely.


I just don’t have any more to spare.


blog, dating, healing, love, relationships, sex

Death to “Talking”

I can’t believe in the year of our Lord, 2018, that I have to even write this.

It pains me to even bring it up but since we’re in the midst of the hell that is called “cuffing season,” I have to look out for my sisters.

It has come to my attention that men and women above the age of 21 are engaging in what is being called “talking”. That’s right, folks. You’re not reading a #flashbackfriday post. I’m declaring a State of Emergency on all things brokeboy and proclaiming that we end “talking” immediately.

I’m sure some of you may be confused. Before I get ahead of myself, allow me to break down the stages of dating, according to the little situationship that couldn’t.

Stage One: Two people meet. They’re attracted to each other. They converse as they get to know one another.

Stage Two: They go on outings (not dates), limited to free or near free activities.

Stage Three: “Talking”. This almost always includes sex. Talking also means they go out on dates. But they are not committed and are free to date and sleep with other people.

Stage Four:
Dating. It’s important to note that few make it to this stage. Most situationships toggle between stages 2 and 3, and usually only progress at the insistence of a frustrated woman. The primary difference between dating and talking is that dating usually involves more emotional investment. You’re free to openly flirt just as much as you’d vent to them about a tough day at work.

Stage Five:
Exclusive dating. They agree to only date and sleep with each other. They may be known among their friends and family as a couple.

Stage Six: Sudden death round. Ok, ok. I kid. This the relationship.


I’m exhausted. I’m sure you are, too. And that is why I want to do away with the fluff in between meeting a person and being in a relationship. These barriers of entry are entirely left up to interpretation and are almost always set up to avoid accountability.

Ladies, let’s chat.

You know that guy that hits you up no more than 2 hours before he wants to “link up?” The one that says he’s just looking for a vibe? The one who looks good but you have listed as “Don’t Answer”? The one you fake cut off every quarter?

Y’all are not talking. You’re not dating. You’re not just hanging out. You, my beautiful sister, are SINGLE. As single as the dollar bill you fished out of your purse when he asked if you had tip money for the bartender.

I advise you to take your single behind out of the twilight zone and stop subscribing to this talking nonsense. No man who wants love, a relationship, and commitment with you would even bring such things to your doorstep. You know it. And I know it.

Kill it with fire.


depression, gratitude, healing, mental health, self awareness, weight

What Depression Looks Like

“The longer I do this, the more I realize that there isn’t a specific type of patient afflicted by this,” said my psychiatrist. I was in the hospital, recovering from my first and only major depressive episode. Just days after my birthday, the quiet storm of seemingly unrelated events that had been brewing for months – in some cases years – like my lack of motivation, weight gain, sudden disinterest in social activities, and screwy sleep patterns had turned into a tornado of 911 calls and a trip to the hospital, leaving those closest to me collectively baffled.

I had been gut punched by depression and I had no idea it was coming. As an advocate for mental health, I have to say, I was and still am a bit embarrassed. I should have seen it coming. It should not have escalated to the point it did. But as I am taking time to learn about shame from the incomparable Dr. Brene Brown, I know that shame survives in secrecy. And while the more personal details of my story will remain with my closest friends and family members, I think it is incredibly important to use my platform as a flare gun of sorts, letting my readers know that I’m here, that I’m okay, and that there’s danger ahead if you’re not careful.

As I work through understanding what this means for me in the grand scheme of things, I fully admit that I don’t have the answers. I didn’t even want to write this but my friend encouraged me to, even though I have nothing to say. Writing was my first form of therapy, after all.

In hindsight, I suppose I wish I had been kinder to myself, allowing room for error in an imperfect world that I willed to be perfect. I wish I knew that having a six figure income, house, travel plans, massages, etc. was not the true definition of self-care.

But I know now, at least. And I guess that’s as good a start as any.



black panther, healing, love, racism, representation

#BlackPanther and Freedom: A Review

Marvel fans and casual viewers alike can breathe a sigh of relief- the year-long buzz has not merely been hype (kind of like the Justice League-oops). It’s the real deal.

I attended an early screening of the film on Monday, February 12, thanks to a Twitter – IMAX partnership, which gave fans the opportunity to participate in a #blackpantherlive Twitter conversation with the stars of the film and then watch the movie in IMAX. At the New York City-based event, the stars answered questions, and even gave viewers across the country an opportunity to take a peek at an inside joke that led Lupita Nyong’o (who plays Nakia) to cash in on a bet and make Michael B. Jordan (Killmonger) do a push up on the spot. While the conversation was entertaining, moviegoers applauded as it came to an end. It was time to watch the film.

Obligatory spoiler warning: I won’t be revealing any key plot points but if you don’t want to know anything at all about the film, now would be a good time to stop reading.

Imagery: Wakanda is not quite like anything I’ve seen before. As an avid moviegoer, I’ve seen plenty of films featuring East African plains and rural environments. But the juxtaposition of roaming goats against a (hidden) metropolitan city teeming with street vendors, pedestrians, professionals and other worldly technology felt like my wildest dreams coming to life. As a Jamaican, I reminisced on my most recent trip there and wondered, briefly, how things would be if we had just some of that wealth.

Be prepared to feel almost overwhelmed with the amount of details and images that cross the screen. From flying wigs to zipping trains, you may often be transported so quickly from one amazing shot to another that you won’t realize you were holding your breath until it’s over.

The cinematography is very much in line with the Marvel style – broad, sweeping shots of action scenes, appropriate slow-motion edits as cars flip over and things blow up, and what I loved most – a poignant scene where T’Challa struggles with responsibility, grief, and loss. It is more beautiful in film, thanks, in part, to Hannah Beachler (production designer for “Moonlight”).


And yes, everyone is black.

The Story: One of the issues that some Marvel movies face is that a strong story line is often sacrificed in favor of witty banter, gravity-defying action, and the overarching need to connect to the other characters in the Marvel Cinematic Universe in preparation for the Infinity War. Save for a plot hole that I suspect may be answered soon, this movie didn’t have that issue.

Viewers get to see a younger King T’Chaka as Black Panther, a son of Wakandan tradition and willing to uphold it at all costs. It isn’t long before we realize just how harmful tradition without empathy can be (sound familiar?).

The theme of tradition and calling on the ancestors for guidance is what powers the film, which is why Erik Killmonger, similar to Magneto, is a “villain” we can relate to. Misguided, but only because he subscribes to the Machiavellian “ends justify the means” tactic that ends up doing far more harm than good. I’ve never taken to villains or antagonists who were evil just for the sake of it. Erik’s reasons are sound – his method is not. Michael B. Jordan is a master at playing these kinds of characters. There’s nothing one-dimensional about Killmonger and you know why almost immediately. I only wish that the script was filled with the kind of dialogue that would support the full range of this character. There were several times when I was left wanting him to say more.

The Dora Milaje – King T’Challa’s all-woman security team- is a fan favorite. From the vibrant red of their armor to their synchronized battle style, I was excited whenever they were on screen. As a fan, I expected more from them but frankly, Okeye (played by Danai Gurira) was all that mattered. She, along with Nakia and Shuri (T’Challa’s genius little sister who heads up Wakanda’s tech) quite literally save the day on more than one occasion. You know how in Harry Potter everyone knows Harry would’ve been dead if not for Hermione?

Same thing, except T’Challa isn’t nearly as incompetent.


My Take: There will be a lot of conversations surrounding some of the themes that emerge from the film: love, tradition, and duty, to name a few. As a first-generation American, I closely identified with the struggle T’Challa faces as pressure comes from multiple sides to have Wakanda open its doors to refugees and distribute foreign aid. Wakandans live hidden – shrouded in the belief that in order to thrive, they must keep to themselves. But with unimaginable wealth and technological resources, T’Challa and others grapple with the guilt in turning a blind eye while other Black people of the diaspora suffer.

Black US immigrants often deal with similar struggles, with many instructing their children to stay indoors and focus on attaining their piece of the American Dream. We’re often told outright that we can’t solve worldwide problems and our best bet is to focus on ourselves and our families. This means getting degrees with high ROIs, buying homes, and adhering to respectability politics, as to not ruffle any feathers. We don’t have the freedom to be too loud, too joyous, or too black.

Our parents were and are trying their best to secure some modicum of financial and social freedom for themselves and their children. And in Black Panther, Wakandans who cling to tradition are trying to maintain theirs.

Black Panther premieres worldwide on Friday, February 16.

assault, blog, gratitude, healing, love, weight

Simmer but don’t Burn: Letting go of Bitterness

In response to today’s Daily Prompt: Simmer , I’ve decided to write about how and why I value “letting go” of painful situations and experiences.

I grew up on the higher end of the middle class spectrum in Queens, New York. My childhood was filled with generally “normal” things: class field trips, curiosity, some bullying/teasing, and excelling academically. It was also filled with not-so-great aspects; a painful relationship with my weight, discord within family, and often feeling that I didn’t quite belong.

Young adulthood brought more difficulty – eating disorders that spanned well over a decade, anxiety, anger, embarrassing break-ups, and sexual and physical assault. The sudden death of my cousin shook me to my core as my anxiety worsened and I became almost obsessed with my own and others’ mortality, my thoughts often plagued with the various ways that I could die.

A few years ago, a relationship that wasn’t right for me prompted an abuse of alcohol that I now recognize as self-medicating. I had not properly dealt with my trauma. I had not asked the tough questions or gotten the help I needed. What made my struggle particularly challenging was my fabulous talent for masking my emotions. My own mother said to me that she only learned a few years ago that I’m as sensitive as I am. In all of her Leo-ness, she wears her heart on her sleeve. If it’s hard for my mother – who’s about as involved and caring as a mom can get – to see me, then it’s pretty much impossible for any other person.

With all of that said, I go back to the title of this post. For those of us who cook, we know that simmering means to prepare something at a temperature just below the boiling state. Simmering breaks down cartilage in bones and thickens soups and stews. It is the difference between fluffy and burnt rice. Simmering is tough preparation.

Few of us have lived a charmed life and I recognize that we all internalize pain and trauma differently. I recognize that these things also manifest in our lives differently. But I learned something extraordinarily powerful a few years ago. I could either live my life as a reactionary response to my pain – or I could simmer in it. I could let the pain break me down but firm me up at the same time. I could feel it, acknowledge it and then…let it go.

Forgiveness is often met with derision from those who conflate it with absolution. But forgiveness is the foundation of gratitude. It’s when we forgive others and mainly ourselves, that we can begin to live a life free of the toxic dumpster fire that is bitterness. I’m not saying it can or even should happen overnight – simmering takes time. But eventually you have to get out of it. Because what lies on the other side is a peace so whole that you wonder why you couldn’t or didn’t try it sooner.

It’s possible to speak truth to power when you say these words:

“[ this person/ place/ situation] hurt me. I will never forget what happened. But I am not going to give the pain teeth. I will not allow it to take up residency in my heart. And I will certainly not allow it to mess with my energy moving forward. I release it. I release [person]. And I’m still here.”

I am not a guru. I am not an expert. I am, however, thrilled to be on this journey. And I want others to be able to feel what I longed to feel for so many years – better.


Peace & Love,


break ups, dating, healing, insecure, love, relationships

Kill It With Fire: The Case of the Ex

This post has been a long time coming, as I’ve dealt with my own “case of the ex” a few times now.

An inconvenient truth in the majority of relationships is that you won’t be the first, second, or even third person who has captured the heart of your mate.


When you agree to become someone’s partner, you implicitly acknowledge that they were an entire person who once loved and cared for another long before you were even a thought in their heads. And while that may be uncomfortable for some, it can be even more uncomfortable when the object of their longstanding affection takes up space in your current relationship.

This is the ugly truth about exes: sometimes they don’t ever really go away. Like lingering spirits who haven’t moved on from this world into the next, their presence still hangs around.

And that’s why I don’t believe exes should be friends in almost any circumstance.

In a perfect world where romantic feelings can be packed up and shipped off to the land of dead relationships, exes can certainly befriend one another, interacting with civility and pleasantness. They may even be the best of friends.

But such a world doesn’t exist, and in this world, we move through life with tokens of our past attached to us, making up the essence of who we are. And so, by the time you meet someone that you hit it off with, and fall in love with, you’re aware that this person wasn’t plucked out of the universe unsullied. You weren’t, either. But you both make it work, creating a new reality, and ultimately, a new future.


So what happens when an ex resurfaces in your relationship?

Some women react harshly: directly addressing the interloper and telling her to stay wherever the hell she came from. Others are more relaxed, feeling confident that whatever once was, is no more. And therefore, she has no reason to be worried.

I advise women to play their position. And to NEVER address the other woman. Your issue is not with her. If the fear of a past relationship being rekindled is strong enough, then that means your partner is providing kindling for that fire – take that up with him.



Leave, if necessary. 

The one thing you must know is that no matter how beautiful, trustworthy, kind, and doting you are, you cannot compete with the unresolved affections of a past love.



You deserve a love that is so whole, honest, and full, that neither of you cannot imagine how life would be without one another. And that kind of love should not be begged for, it should be freely given.


Peace & Love,


healing, love, relationships, self awareness, Uncategorized

I am Lemonade

Disclaimer: This is not a thinkpiece. This is a me piece.

“Your grandmother had a very hard life, you know,” my mother said. I’d just learned that my grandma had been hospitalized for a minor issue that was a symptom of a chronic condition. I was taken aback. I’d always known that my grandmother, an assertive, sometimes tactless, but always encouraging woman, had not been dealt the best cards in life. Growing up in the 1930’s in abject poverty in Jamaica, she was pulled out of school at age twelve to begin working. There was no electricity. She was very dark skinned. A “coolie” with textured hair. Opportunities ranged from being a stay-at-home mom to a domestic worker. She married a man who struggled with his own demons that often revealed themselves in a bottle or a balled up fist. I’d known this, and yet, I had never heard my mother say it so plainly. Perhaps she knew more than I did and had chosen to keep more of the painful details to herself.

When I spoke with my grandmother later on to check on her, the conversation was different. I spoke with her differently. I listened more intently. She always ended phone calls with a relevant bible scripture and encouraging words and that day was no different. “Work hard, Adriana. I never had the opportunity. But I prayed and asked God to make sure that my children and their children did. I pray for you. I pray that you find a husband and that I live to see you have children.” I took those words to heart. I worked harder this past week in the office, pulling around-the-clock hours. I focused more intently on projects. I prayed more. Not for a husband- but for peace and discernment.

And then I saw Beyonce’s visual album “Lemonade” last night.

Readers have either seen it or will see it, so I won’t even  attempt to discuss or summarize the feature at length. I found it to be one of the most stunning visual representations of a love on fire- be it romantic or love of self. It spoke to me in ways that were certainly intentional but came at a time when I thought I had it all together. I suppose that’s the perfect time to have your world turned on its head. When presented with a mirror of your own cycle, your own broken record of “intuition, denial, anger, apathy, emptiness, hope, forgiveness, reformation, reconciliation” can you look at it with a steady gaze and straight face? Can you say “yes, this is who I am and who we are and I’m okay with that?” I could not. At least not honestly.

I suppose that as a black woman living in this country at this time, I look great on paper. Good income. Good job. Educated. Genuine friends and family. Good health. Gratitude is something that I practice daily, yet I found myself attaching myself to men and getting into ill-fitting relationships because it was the “right thing to do”. As much as I am comfortable with who I am, I seek partnership this is real and true and a reflection of what I think and feel about myself. But I have sold myself short several times. I have overlooked moments where I was made to feel less than. Or problematic. Or “hard to love”. I have often cried myself to sleep, wondering if a man was cheating on me. Then cried more when I knew he was. I have broken things. Thrown things. Called women who called them. Then once I decided I was done, deleted and blocked them in every way possible, put on my “I’m a bad bitch” cloak and repeated the same story starring me and featuring the same characters with different names.

I am in the midst of healing from all of that, tending to my own garden and watching as the fruit of my labor begins to sprout. “Lemonade” for me doesn’t center around romantic relationships.  It’s about my relationship with myself. It’s about knowing and loving yourself enough to know that sometimes when life hands you more lemons than sugar, you do the best with what you are given. Then you pray that your daughter, should she be handed a few lemons, will make a lemonade sweeter than yours. And that kind of lemonade isn’t made overnight. It may take months. It may take years.

Life handed my grandmother lemons. And while I have been handed a few of my own and am not sure how to work my magic to make something out of them, I am grateful knowing that I am the lemonade she prayed for. And for now, that is all the sugar I need.



Peace & Love,





break ups, healing, relationships

2016: The Year of the Post F-kboy Glow Up

As the title of this post may suggest, I’m rather confident about this year. The winter was mild on the East Coast, people are becoming more health conscious, and flight deals are out of this world. Have you seen the sale for a flight from JFK to Greece for like $300?! Anyways, with that being said, I’ve come to the conclusion that this year is the year where women have proceeded to get their sh-t together. No longer will we spend endless hours crying over men who never respected us a day in their lives. No longer will we waste our good concealer and highlight to go on dates with guys that aren’t even worth dollar store lipgloss. Gone are the days that we stalk his social media to see who he’s talking to/flirting with. This year, we’ve tapped into our divine feminine and have proclaimed in but so many words that 2016 is the year of the post f-kboy glow up.


What is a f-kboy? I could dedicate a year’s worth of blog posts to the subject and still have more to unearth. For the time being, this diagram will have to do (source unknown. But I got it from Google images so we’re just going to assume that the tag is the original source). I’ll direct your attention to the top 3 percentages. “You up?” “I don’t like labels” “Netflix and chill”. These all speak to a man who is only using you for entertainment and is hoping you never get the good sense to leave his behind in the dust. I already wrote about why I hate Netflix and Chill. F-kboys are lazy, dishonest, and prey on the weak and naive. So what happens when you’ve spent far too long with one?



Bad credit.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. When you’re with someone who doesn’t honor and respect you for the woman that you are, it can be detrimental to your sense of self-worth. You may wonder if something is wrong with you. You may do things to alter your appearance to “keep him”. You become a shell of woman because you’ve poured everything into a man. I’ve been there, sis. But one day, you’ll realize that you don’t need him to feel whole. Because you, alone, are enough. And when that day comes?

Your skin clears.

You lose weight.

You get a better job.


And maybe, just maybe, you get with a man that worships the ground you walk on due to your new-found confidence. Take it from someone who’s dealt with her fair share of         f-kboys and f-kups; the best thing you can do for yourself is to detach from someone who doesn’t appreciate your love and light. You should feel more complete and free when with someone, not depleted and robbed of your joy.
So go ahead and let go. We have the rest of 2016 for the glow up.


dating, friendships, healing, relationships, self awareness

Fight or flight

A few months ago, the following conversation took place between me and a close friend:

Friend: Hey Adri, how’s it going with [insert guy’s name here]?

Me: Who? Girl, please. I had to cancel that.

Friend (to another friend who had joined the conversation): Man, Adri cuts these guys off quick. You don’t give anyone a chance.

Me *shrugging*: Hey. I don’t waste time.

Fight or flight: a term used to describe the automatic, inborn, physiological mechanism in the body that enables humans to mobilize a lot of energy rapidly in order to cope with threats to survival by either fighting or fleeing (flight).

Confession: I always am in survival mode when it comes to relations, platonic or otherwise. And I rarely apologize for it. I take the quote “when people show you who they are, believe them” to heart. The reality is that like many, I’ve experienced hurt and have decided to take an active role in preventing it from happening again. Am I always successful? No. But more often than not, I’ve successfully avoided the sinking feeling you get in your gut when you realize that you’ve been deceived, or betrayed, or abused. I usually win.

The fight or flight response is thought to have been hard-wired into our psyche because of very real physical prehistoric threats like a raging saber-toothed tiger determined to rip our ancestors’ heads off. While most of us don’t have those types of massive feline-based threats these days, we do encounter the very real possibility of being mugged, or hit by a car, or damaged by an emotional interaction. And our bodies, wired by years of trauma, reacts. I don’t know much about having to deal with someone verbally abusing me. Or enduring an intense and uncomfortable conversation.

Because I flee. I always have. For reasons that are far too personal for a public blog (and friends), I learned at a very early age that leaving is the answer. While I may not exhibit unnatural strength like the mother who lifted a car to save her child during a fight or flight moment, I am skilled at removing myself from a situation faster than you can say “adrenaline”.

Emotions running high? Leave.

Angry? Leave.

Frustrated? Leave.

And it’s my go-to response because when it comes to relationships, platonic or otherwise, I have one foot out the door, anyway. I can hear you through the computer or your smartphone now, telling me that it’s not ok to do what I do. Or that I have to trust the process. Or my personal favorite, “Adri, you have to give people a chance”. I’ve heard it all. And I see the merit in all of those statements. I know that it is going to be incredibly difficult for me to connect with anyone on a truly deeper level if I’m always ready to leave when I’m faced with the possibility of being hurt. I leave before I get left. I hurt before I’m hurt.

I’ve been comfortable with this strategy because “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” even if I break, instead.

It’s how I’m wired.

To be continued,

dating, healing, love

Hello, It’s Closure


Hello from the outside

At least I can say that I’ve tried to tell you

I’m sorry for breaking your heart,

But it don’t matter,

It clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore.

Emotions and feelings rejoice! Adele has reemerged after an intentional 4 year hiatus to bring us “Hello”, her first single from her upcoming album 25. I got on the Adele train when she released 19, her first album, and haven’t looked back since. And boy, has she taken me on an emotional journey. We have, in a sense, grown up together. Her alto, sometimes gravelly voice exudes the emotional depth that many of us wish we had while her lyrics have us longing for her ability to articulate our vulnerable moments. The running joke after this song’s release is that texts and calls will be made by ex lovers across the globe, hoping to rekindle the flame of what once was and what could-have-been. It’s understandable. So many of us have a pressing need to “get closure” because we feel we owe or are owed an explanation for why things went wrong.

For a long time, I was the same way. To be honest, I still have those qualities. Extracting the “why” from painful experiences helps me to process and move on, taking a newfound lesson with me along the way. Like Hansel and Gretel (minus the cannibalistic witch), I leave “breadcrumbs” of memories and experiences to get back to the main lesson of why I am the way that I am. But this tactic, like a lot of self- preservation strategies, comes at a cost. I have often gone running back to the source of my pain to seek healing, demanding an explanation or apology, when neither are needed.

In Adele’s case, she’s the offending party who wants to make amends. She’s hurt someone and recognizing that she broke his heart, reaches out to apologize. The man (hey Tristan Wilds!) has not responded to her or if he has, has not responded in the way she was hoping, since “it clearly doesn’t tear [him] apart anymore”. Unfortunately, I’ve been on both sides of that fence and let me tell you, hurting someone that you care about sucks. In my case, I’ve ended every relationship I’ve had for varying reasons, but ultimately, I knew that I hurt someone who was good to me (with the exception of one, but that’s another story). So I can understand why you’d want to reach out to him or her. They’re owed a reason, right? Eh…maybe. 

I think that for those of us who have hurt others, whether intentionally or not, we probably owe it to them to leave them alone. Reaching out is often a selfish act fueled by pride and a crushed ego. You need to be forgiven so that you can move forward with a good “track record”. You can’t stand the thought of someone out there being able to say “yea that person hurt me”. You need to make amends in order to..what? Feel better about yourself. Don’t get me wrong, apologies can be made with the best of intentions and are often met with gratitude. We sometimes make horrible mistakes that need to be addressed and by acknowledging our wrongdoing, we can begin the work to change our behavior moving forward. But sending a text to your ex who you haven’t spoken to in 5 years probably doesn’t qualify. 

The most recent lesson that I’ve accepted in my adult life is that sometimes you have to accept the apology you were never given. Sometimes you have to acknowledge the explanation you don’t have. Sometimes the experience is enough. 

While outside influences may help, closure is a solo act.

Peace & Love,