Blocked.

Today, I am absolutely gutted.

I had to take my mom for surgery this morning as a favor to my dad.

It went as piss-poor as possible.

I asked Aphrodite to veil me today in strength, and thank Goddess I did.

The day started with my mom not knowing that my boyfriend and I would not be staying until after her surgery.

My dad would be with her, and he had told me he was perfectly capable of driving them home. Ky and I work 12-hour shifts, and we work every Wednesday. We needed to go home and sleep.

Apparently, this became the catalyst for an elder-toddler-sized bitch fit.

Since we weren't staying, we must not care whether or not she wakes up.

stares into the sun

We're finally ready to leave, and I'm the one driving them while Ky follows behind us.

My mom literally cannot help herself.

She starts saying as much fucked-up, defunct shit as she possibly can. My dad groans in the backseat in protest with every slicing word of hers.

Eventually, I finally speak up.

“Mom, you've done nothing but be rude to Ky and me since we've driven out here to help you. You haven't even said thank you.”

That was apparently enough to light her millimeter fuse.

She came in guns blazing.

“You want me to bend over and kiss YOUR ass for driving me in MY car?”

Unbeknownst to my mother, I am not her little bitch anymore.

So I waited for the light to turn green, pulled over, and put the car in park.

The way her tone immediately shifted to:

“Oh, no, no. Please keep driving!”

was almost comical.

I called Ky and asked him to switch off with me because I will be GODDAMNED if I'm going to be treated like shit while helping a mother I'm already limited-contact with.

My dad stayed silent the entire ride.

He just sat there and allowed her to grind me down.

After Ky and I switched cars, a world-ending panic attack began the moment I sat down.

I spent the next 24 minutes gutturally screaming and sobbing.

And today was day five without weed.

I allowed myself to feel everything.

And I didn't relapse.

I didn't smoke.

I didn't numb myself.

I didn't run from it.

I survived it.

And my mom didn't get the satisfaction of watching me break down.

I am so fucking proud of myself.

Today, I also finally blocked Morgan's sister.

I doubt she'll even realize my absence.

But when—or if—she does, she'll find that she's blocked on every platform and has no way to reach me.

She allowed her husband to be a massive dickhole at our mutual friend's wedding. He had never met Ky, and he didn't utter a single word in either of our directions because of how much he hates me.

It was so blatant that other people at the table noticed how deliberately exclusionary he was being.

It was downright embarrassingly obvious.

And she never once acknowledged it.

Never apologized.

Never defended me.

I'm done begging for a spot at her table.

I'll eat alone.

I also had to block an old coworker of mine a couple of weeks ago.

She was the Patty to my Selma until she decided I was her biggest Opp.

She had confided in me that she had recklessly gotten pregnant with her husband and didn't want to go through with it.

I supported her.

Even though I thought she had been incredibly careless, I still supported her.

And apparently, what she couldn't forgive was that I had the audacity to ask what she had been thinking—especially because we used to make fun of women who were that careless.

She never messaged me again.

You know what?

Deciding to restrict people's access to my life has been a blessing in disguise.

Because the negative-energy ties were still open as long as these people could see what I was doing, where I was going, who I was with, and what my life looked like.

I kept leaving the door unlocked and then wondering why the same people kept walking through it.

So I'm locking the fucking door.

BYE, BITCH.

Two women I once thought would be my bridesmaids are out.

And yes, all of this hurts like hell.

It's unfair.

Some of it is profoundly unfair.

There are relationships I genuinely thought would last my entire life. People I loved. People I pictured standing beside me during the biggest moments of my life.

Losing them still hurts.

But I'm finally beginning to understand that losing access to me isn't something I have to feel guilty about.

I don't have to keep offering myself to people who make me feel unwanted.

I don't have to keep explaining why their behavior hurts me.

I don't have to audition for a place in someone's life.

And I certainly don't have to stay at a table where everyone has decided I don't belong.

Maybe I'll eat alone for a while.

That's okay.

Because I'd rather sit alone at a table where I am safe than squeeze myself into a crowded one surrounded by snakes.

I am learning that solitude is not the same thing as abandonment.

Sometimes solitude is what happens when you finally stop abandoning yourself.