It might not be the classiest or most eloquent thing to say that life can be a real motherfucker… but who am I kidding? This blog ain’t for kids, and even if junior is peeking over your shoulder at this scribble, the way I see it: the sooner the better.
Sometimes I wonder what little tidbits of “wisdom” I actually absorbed when I was younger. One that sticks out? Losing my virginity. Mama always warned me—once it’s gone, you can never get it back. If only I’d treated matters of the heart with that same reverence. Because I’ve learned the hard way that my body—my sleep, my appetite, my energy, my nervous system—can end up at the mercy of my emotions. Sounds obvious. But maybe it would’ve hit different if mama had said: Be careful who you let yourself love.
Life isn’t a fairytale. It’s full of self-serving, narcissistic, and sometimes genuinely evil people. But maybe that would’ve been too intense to tell a young girl. Maybe she didn’t want me afraid to go outside again, afraid to let my face lean into the wind—afraid I’d miss the warmth of the sun just because lightning exists.
But listen: I’ve been struck. More than once. So when I picture myself now—soaking wet, burned umbrella, and a watch that doesn’t tick because I’ve taken one too many hits—I realize I would’ve preferred the harsh truth.
Man is the most diabolical animal. Don’t fear the fangs of a snake, a wolf, even a lion. Their intentions are what they are—pure, in a rational sense. But humans? Humans come with disguises. They slither and smile. They charm. They keep you guessing. And that mind fuck is almost worse than the bodily harm they’re capable of.
This post isn’t meant to drag anyone into awful thoughts. And I’m sorry if it does. But I hope it resonates with the few who’ve had to stare evil in the face and finally say, No more. No more will I let this horror, shock, and dismay unravel my life any further.
People love to compare life to a deck of cards. “Play the hand you’re dealt.” Hm. More like you’re dealt a hand, then the dealer flips the whole damn table in a fit of rage—shattering your hopes of ever playing that royal straight flush you swear you had coming. So what’s a girl left to do when two 8’s and a joker land in her hand?
I say make that clown dance.
You’ve got to work with what you’ve got. And no situation is worth deserting yourself over. You’re worth more than entertaining the thought of abandoning who you are. Embrace your femininity. Embrace your masculinity. Embrace your humanity. Disarm those seductive thoughts that life is prepackaged, predetermined, and just waiting to be unwrapped by the delicate hands of a noblewoman.
There never will be that moment. Never.
Instead, there are moments of despair. Hope. Excitement. Love. Hate. Tenderness. Rage. Pure, palpable life itself.
So next time you find yourself spiraling—or listening to an elder hand you advice like it’s gospel—remember: you have more control than your nervous system wants you to believe. And the universe isn’t demanding a grand comeback scene. It expects you to unfold slowly. To grieve. To shed. To sink for a minute. That’s nature. That’s transition.
Let yourself feel it. But stop the spiral.
And if I could do one thing differently, it wouldn’t be guarding my body first. It would’ve been guarding my heart—being the gatekeeper of what I let in, who I let close, and what I let cost me.
Love the hand you were dealt. Own it. Cherish it. And don’t get so caught up in winning that you forget you’re the one holding the cards.
