So I’m having a midnight meltdown. Can I vent?

I just had a conversation that started one way and then went another. By the time we hung up, I didn’t know whether I wanted a shot, to listen to Jeezy, listen to Adele or just cry. Let me tell you where this began. Yesterday, Boston-Black-Twitter was in an uproar about a fake page. You know something a bitter female with too much time on her hands usually makes. I don’t want to throw too much shade, I wasn’t on the page. (Praise God) Though, I have been on one before. It’s extremely frustrating.

So side conversations were had. It dawned on me that I don’t know any “boys from the hood” anymore. It was a proud moment. Gossip isn’t as entertaining when you don’t know the cast of characters. I noticed how many girls were dealing with street dudes, and dudes behind bars. I felt SO BAD for them. Why? Because I used to be them. Waiting on letters, phone calls and whatever else could be cooked up from behind bars. Your life takes a ghetto turn no matter how well you are doing for yourself. You overcompensate for what’s missing. The minimal seems extraordinary. Then one day, it embarrassed me. I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to talk about it partially because I didn’t want the person I was in love with to be reduced to just another criminal. I also looked at my life and I realized, I wasn’t happy. I’d become good at riding out temporary highs and reliving old ones. I lived a certain lifestyle for so long and it breaks my heart every. single. time. i think about it. Every time.

I decided I deserve more. Tonight, I’m sitting under this laptop freezing. Like BURR for real (that’s another story). I miss the home I shared with the love of my life. I miss our daily and weekly schedule. I confess, I miss a lot of things. You know what I miss most of all? Being off the radar. During my call, the person said, “You’re still living that life…” and for some reason, that irritated the shit out of me. I am so over being associated with someone who is no longer here. Every phone call I get that puts me back in that mode from my old life just irritates me.

I really want to act like it never happened.

I miss my privacy. I miss people not knowing whether I lived in this city– or this country. I love running into people and hearing them ask, “Are you back? Do you live here now?” I worked hard to fix myself mentally. Yes fix, because going through that life, breaks you. That shit isn’t normal by any stretch of the imagination. I didn’t want to have a child by a man in the streets— no matter how much money he has. I definitely didn’t want to marry one. I had to ensure that what I was projecting didn’t scream ryde or die chick. For a while, I felt like it did.

The moral of my rant is. Fuck my former life. It will not define me. If you want better, you have to be better, demand better and surround yourself with better. I am still illustrating that everyday. For every woman who I know– whether we are close or not– if they are in that spot that I was in. I sincerely hope you all get out of that “slump” as well. You will appreciate what the highs and the lows have done for your womanhood. You will also experience yourself blossoming so beautifully. You can and will look back and say, “WOW! This is what I was missing.” Live for yourself. Being a “ryde or die”, you live for someone else. It’s loving yourself first.

This post isn’t meant to insult anyone by any means. I just want you to know, it does get greater later… and the picture is so much prettier on the other side of the fence. It took me a while to climb it and get a look… and damn… it’s breath-taking.

…And so worth it.