I am writing this to let it out of my system before the ugly malice of your words seeps through my pores, contaminates my blood and nestles into my marrow.
I am writing this to tell you I am not what you say I am and you will never define me; to tell you that I am proud of the mother I am and of the woman I am becoming.
To tell you that your words no longer have the power to wound, to hurt and that the sting they once had to puncture my self-esteem and make me doubt my own worth is gone.
I am writing to tell you I don’t have to listen to you talk about what you know nothing about; because when it comes to the topic called ‘ME’ you are several editions out of date.
I am not the starry-eyed teenager I once was; I am not awed by you or your jaw breaking verbosity.
I have learned that in the greater scheme of things words without action are as inconsequential as flatulence lost in a whirlwind – so spare me the empty promises.
I don’t need your validation, your approval, your affirmation and I certainly don’t need to explain myself to you – so get over yourself.
I will not give you free reign in my life so that you desecrate my peace of mind or the tranquillity my soul enjoys with your mean-spirited remarks.
You didn’t make me and you don’t get to claim my success as your own or take credit for what I purchased with my own sweat, tears, struggles and sheer guts.
You don’t get to ‘collectivize’ my sacrifices, melt them down into the language of ‘we’ because if memory serves me right – you weren’t there when it mattered most.
You don’t know my story or my hopes and fears.
You cannot shame me or guilt me into becoming who or what you think I once was, or should be.
Let me introduce the real me to you – I am the woman who has too much courage to cower at the prospect of embracing the unknown.
So here I go …and you can hurl the rest of your insults to the part of my anatomy that couldn’t care less – my back!