lil dump

on words do hurt hey

Hello Substack.

It has been quite a minute since I came on here. I think I am here today on a personal mission rather than my usual educational dumps, random thoughts, or things I am learning. I often say that I write to make sense of my feelings, so this is me doing exactly that.

Exposure therapy, if you will.

I am at a very interesting point in my life right now. I am transitioning from undergrad to whatever comes next, and honestly? It has been hell. I am lonely all the time. I miss my friends all the time.

I have tried hiding from that feeling by traveling a lot over the last two months. And don’t get me wrong, I have loved the trips. I have loved seeing new places, spending time with people I care about, and temporarily escaping the reality that my life is changing.

But every time the trip ends, I immediately fall into a deeper hole of feeling alone.

I am scared about moving. I am scared about this next chapter. I know I have to do it, but I wish I didn’t have to do it alone.

It is what it is, right?

Anyway, that is not actually what I came here to talk about today, although I think it is connected.My moving day was yesterday, but I pushed it because, honestly, I haven’t been in the right mindset for the last couple of days. And I didnt want to be overwhelmed by moving and this.

Something happened last week that I have been carrying around with me.Something that sounds small when I say it out loud, but has affected me more than I expected.

So, insert Bethany in Miami.

First of all, Miami is overrated. Whatever you think you are going to do there, you probably won’t. The beaches have seaweed, the food is overpriced and somehow still doesn’t taste that good, and Miam(yes, I am talking directly to you) your matcha needs help.

But there were genuinely great things about the trip.

I went with two beautiful beautiful friends of mine. We laughed, explored, and enjoyed each other’s company. I think we all needed that break. We needed new scenery. We needed time away from the reality of life.And being the Afrobeats fanatic that I am, we went to an Afrobeats pool party and then an Afrobeats after party.

The after party started out great.

Until it wasn’t.

I never thought a stranger could make me question myself so quickly. The club was crowded. The music was loud enough that you could feel it in your chest. People were dancing, laughing, and existing in their own little worlds.I was doing exactly what everyone else was doing.Enjoying myself.

Then she looked at me.

She looked me up and down, laughed, and rolled her eyes.

“Girl... what are you wearing?” she scoffed. “Who told you that outfit looked good?”

At first, I thought she was joking. I genuinely thought I had misunderstood her.

But then she continued.

She touched my shoulder, let out a sarcastic laugh, and said, “Yes you. You’re really not as pretty as you think you are.” Then she looked toward the dance floor.

“And why are you dancing like that? You look embarrassing. You are doing way to much for sombody right now.” She turned toward the people around her, almost as if she wanted an audience. As if she wanted someone to agree with her.

“Do you really think you can dance? Everyone’s looking at you because you look ridiculous.” She stepped closer. Close enough that my body reacted before my mind could process what was happening. I took a step back. She pointed at my outfit, looked me up and down again, and continued. “You’re trying way too hard. Nobody wants you here. You are too much. Your body looks weird. Maybe you should leave.” This went on with other words I will not mention here but before walking away, she shrugged.

“Step away from me.” (Looking back, I had truly been stepping back away from her but she kept inching towards me. To this day, I still dont know why I didn’t swing or walk away. Alc is bad guys.)

I wish I could say I laughed. I wish I could say I immediately recognized that her words were a reflection of her and not me. But I didn’t.I stood there shocked.

So shocked that I apparently started crying in the middle of the dance floor while “Money Constant” played in the background.(Maybe if “Nakupenda was playing, I wouldn’t have cried:))

Looking back, I think what hurt me the most was not just what she said. It was how easily she said it. It was the confidence behind every insult and the way she laughed and touched me and looked around, almost hoping everyone else would do the same.

She was a stranger. She knew nothing about me. And yet, for a few minutes, her words became louder than my own understanding of who I was.

I want to backtrack for a second and explain something.

My relationship with myself is hard-earned. Over the last three years, I have worked incredibly hard to love myself. My therapist and I have spent countless hours unpacking the ways I have allowed other people’s opinions, actions, and words to shape how I see myself. It sounds easy. It is not. Learning that your worth is not attached to what people say about you is something you have to practice over and over again.

And maybe that is why this hurt so much.Because I keep asking myself: Why did the words of someone who didn’t know me hurt?

Eish, anyways, it wasn’t like she found new insecurities anyways, She just poked the ones that already existed.

Because I was drinking, my emotions felt heavier. Maybe if I had been completely sober, I would have handled it differently. Maybe I would have walked away sooner and I would have laughed it off.

But in that moment, it felt like she had taken every insecurity I had ever carried and dragged it onto the middle of that dance floor.

Over and over and over again.

And what was worse was waking up the next day. As I sobered up, the conversation came back.Again.And again.And again.

Every replay somehow felt heavier than the last.

What did I do wrong? Why did I let someone speak to me that way? Why did I care what someone who had never met me thought?

That experience changed the way I think about words. It changed the way I view alcohol. It even briefly changed the way I saw myself.

I have experienced a lot of external hurt throughout my life, but verbal cruelty has not been something I experienced often from strangers. There was something so unsettling about someone deciding, within seconds, that I was someone they had the right to tear down.

Her words have stayed with me. They followed me after I left that club. They appeared when I looked in the mirror. They replay while I am alone. And right now, I am very alone.

I keep hoping I can start working in the lab soon so that I have somewhere to go, something to focus on, and less time sitting with my own thoughts.

I am writing this because I need to make sense of it. And honestly, even finishing this writing thingie, I feel a little lighter. Maybe there is something powerful about taking something that has been living inside your head and putting it somewhere else. Maybe writing this is my way of taking back the power that night took from me. Maybe putting these words onto paper will stop me from replaying hers so often.

Anyway, guys. Be kind. And be kind to your friends as well, they are there for you. Shoutout to my friend Sylvia who held me for hours while I cried myself to sleep. And shout out to my Uber too for telling me that he will pray she stubs her toenail. Oh and shoutout to the girlypop who found me and hugged me in the bathroom. Cause even though the bad moments keep replaying over and over, those ones come in too.

My next piece I am working on is a faith piece. I am excited about it, I just need a couple more references.