The Annual Birthday Bash That Feeds My Soul

Last night was our annual June Birthday Besties Celebration.
Same place as always—our little Mexican spot down the road.

We drank. We ate. We laughed. Boy did we laugh.
I love this group of women.
Friends I met during my public school system days. Friends who have shown up for me and mine for nearly a decade.

We don’t talk every day. We don’t force connection.
But when we come together, it’s like no time has passed at all.

That kind of friendship matters.
That kind of friendship saves you.

The vibe last night was warm, light, beautiful.

When The Bullshit Finds Its Way In

And then, mid-conversation, a friend leaned over and said something that caught me sideways.
“You know someone’s been running their mouth about you again.”

And just like that, the air shifted.

Now, I’m not one to let petty things ruin a good night—but sometimes, it burns.
Especially when it comes from someone who smiles in your face and shows you exactly who they are the moment you aren’t in the room.

Truth is, I’ve learned not everyone can handle confidence.
Not everyone can handle boundaries.
Not everyone can handle when you choose peace and refuse to play small.

Some folks just can’t stand to see you shine in spaces where they’re still suffocating.

And that ain’t my problem.

I’m not here to compete. I’m not here to entertain small minds.
And I’m damn sure not here to trade shade with anyone beneath my frequency.

But make no mistake—I see it.
I hear it.
And I never, ever forget.

You don’t have to swing every time someone throws a punch.
Sometimes the loudest response is no response at all.

Because when you’ve done the work to build real peace?
You protect it with everything you’ve got.

The Never-Ending Battle: Pop Off or Move On

Of course, the old me?
She’d have popped off.

Would’ve told the whole damn room exactly what I know and exactly why I know it.

But this me?
The one who’s fought tooth and nail for her peace?

She thinks long and hard about what’s worth her energy.

Most times, the answer is not this.

So I’ll say this and leave it where it belongs—quiet, sharp, enough:

I know exactly who I am.
I know exactly what I bring into a room.
And I know exactly what I don’t need to tolerate to keep that intact.

“Confident, not cocky.”
Rooted. Whole. Unbothered.

And if that bothers you?
You’re welcome to sit with it.

The Lesson That Keeps Unfolding

I know I’m a lot for some people—too loud, too proud, too much.
And guess what? I don’t fucking care.

I’m done watering myself down to make other people comfortable.
I’m done apologizing for my confidence.
I’m done shrinking myself to fit into spaces that were never built for me.

And for the ones who can’t stand to see me shine?
I hope they find healing. I hope they find peace.
Because I have.

I know my place.
I know my strengths.
I know my purpose.

“Confident, not cocky.”

And I’m learning—still learning—that my energy is too precious to waste on miserable people.

I’ll always choose the table with women who pour love, warmth, and joy into the room—like the ones I sat with last night.

Because those friendships?
That kind of love?
It feeds me.

And the rest?
The fake, the petty, the insecure?

That shit can stay exactly where it belongs: behind me.

Because the greatest project I’ll ever work on is me—

And no one gets to drag me back to places I’ve already outgrown.