I was mid-latte with my friend Kenni—one of those sacred coffee dates where you refuel your soul and vent unapologetically—when my phone buzzed with a message from my boyfriend Dustin:
“Hey, would you be okay if I had coffee with Nyra today?”
I typed back:
“Absolutely! Have fun!”
I looked up from my phone and read the message to Kenni.
Kenni raised a brow and shook her head. “Seriously? She’s vaguebooked (posting intentionally cryptic statuses on Facebook, to elicit attention, sympathy, or a reaction from others) one too many times about me not inviting her to stuff. I had to cut her off.”
We clinked coffee cups in solidarity—nothing like shared confusion to bring friends closer.
But my mind didn’t let it go so easily.
When I got home, Duane, my other boyfriend mentioned Dustin said he was going to the store. Not out for coffee with the woman who recently wrote me an unsolicited Yelp review of my character.
Interesting.
I was confused as hell. Like… why be honest with me then tell Duane you are going to the store when you’re actually going to sip herbal reconciliation with my ex-friend who thinks I’m a spiritual fraud?
So I did what any overthinking mystic would do—I sat down and started texting Dustin while having a full-on side conversation with SereniTea, my inner wisdom and occasional sass dispenser. I was fairly centered but beginning to spiral just a little.
To his credit, Dustin was calm. Gentle, even. Though he was tempted, he didn’t lean into defensiveness—he leaned into listening. That meant a lot. He responded to my confusion and questions with, “I think you might be feeling something and so you are questioning me. I would like to be understanding about it, so I will see you when I get home baby. Love you 😘”
When he arrived home, I told him the truth:
I felt confused as hell and betrayed.
Not because he wanted to meet with Nyra, but because the idea of sharing space—sacred, heart-filled space—with someone who’d just painted me in the most vicious light felt like swallowing broken glass.
I added in that I knew it was my ego talking. Loudly. But still—it hurt.
Dustin, in true Dustin fashion, reminded me:
“The ego speaks from fear and victimhood. And you? You are nobody’s victim baby.”
I melted. He simultaneously centered me and empowered me. Teach me your ways sensei!
He was right. I wasn’t scared of Nyra—I was scared of being misunderstood, mischaracterized, and betrayed. Again.
He nodded knowingly and a little sadly. “Yeah…even I have done that to you. And you’ve done that to me too baby. We all do it.”
“You’re someone who cares deeply, maybe too deeply sometimes. And yeah, it hurts when people project onto you. But Nyra is clearly in pain too. People who aren’t hurting don’t need to lash out. I’m only trying to help her. I’m not going to judge her for being human, and I won’t judge you for feeling hurt either. But you don’t have to carry this. I love you.”
He wasn’t just defending her. He was reminding me that I have the power to change how I feel and that my worth was not debatable. No level of projection by people in pain would every change that.
He was right. Not only was he right, but he also led me to the realization that I was projecting too, or at the very least, seeing things through the lens of my own pain. Allowing this repetitive narrative to roam free doesn’t serve me or anyone else for that matter:
“I try so hard. I’m so sincere. I give people my heart—
And somehow, I’m always the villain in their story.
Why am I never enough?”
The projection loop. The ego spiral. The dusty old record that keeps playing even when you know the lyrics by heart.
Then he told me something that both stung and soothed.
“She tried to talk shit about you.”
Apparently, she didn’t waste much time trying to assemble the Tea Haters Club.
But Dustin shut it down. Immediately.
He didn’t feed it. Didn’t listen. Didn’t validate it. I took a deep breath and admitted that hit a REALLY sore spot.
“I’ve been through this before,” I said, “when Duane and Nikki formed the ‘Tea Hater’s Club.’ Nikki kept harassing me and that whole saga ended in an affair,” my voice shook, “I dont wanna go there again baby.”
He reminded me that my feelings were understandable. Natural, even. But unfounded in this case.
There was nothing to fear.
He had no intention of turning my pain into someone else’s gossip hour.
And that?
That gave me the clarity to face the real battle:
Me vs. Me.
So I sat with my ego.
I sat with the tightness in my chest and the stories playing on repeat.
I sat with the part of me that wanted to be defended, praised, vindicated.
I sat with the ache of being misunderstood, the burn of being mischaracterized, the dull sting of my perceived betrayal.
And I began the slow, quiet work of letting it go.
Of forgiving her.
Of forgiving myself for caring so much.
Of unclenching the part of me that still believed someone else’s judgment could define me.
Of worrying that the most painful parts of my past would repeat.
I started building from the rubble. Brick by brick.
Not to prove my worth.
But to remember it.
Cosmic Tea 