Choosing differently free write

I started writing them down. All the memories. All the time I swallowed my words because I didn't want to hurt someone's feelings. I wrote letters, blog posts, notes on cards, journal entries, whatever I could think of to get the anger out instead of keeping it in. Getting it out was my best way to overcome it. I was sick enough. All the anger was the root of it.

It wasn't just one thing. There were so many things wrapped in one grande burrito I kept adding ingredients to but would never digest. A breakup here. A loved one lost there. Stress over money, time, health. I'm still in the process of letting it all go. The worry over worry. The worry over who, when, what and why.

The older I get, the more I know that nice is not woman's work. Not always. Some folks need a good cussin' out, you know? And that's okay too. 'Cause it's good for a woman's body. Some of my male folks could stand to be called out on their sexist ways. And maybe it will take the meanest voice I have for them to listen. There are some white folks will just have to handle me not being their only black friend. I'm about fed up being their educator on all things ethnic. Some family members could use a taste of the words I'm holding too. It's old now, being the easiest one to make jokes about.

I am overcoming the anger held inside. I'm choosing differently now. Someone else can have it. It ain't doing me no good. What I always did was suck it up and save feelings. Everybody's but my own. I ain't got no cheeks left. Got no made up nice words neither. Just these raw ones come ready from my gut.

It's a different day and time to do it a different way. Life is too short to not be happy from the inside. Folks can leave if they want to. I'm minding my mind these days. Can't just let anything and anybody in any more.

There was a me that used to bite my tongue and let folks be disrespectful and self righteous and downright demeaning. Well, that me is dead now. And you motherfuckers killed her.