My good cry

Okay. So I need to blog right now because Im really sad. And I know how blessed I am. Im so thankful for the many things that I have to look forward (including my fabulous internship at Essence this summer!)
But my parade caught a little rain. An argument with a fellow hilltoper in the office lead to me being told that I really don't do my job to the fullest.
Now, anyone who knows me, knows it takes a whole lot for someone not close to me to really hurt my feelings, because I don't let the opinion of others affect how I view myself (I mean, I call myself a queen for gosh sakes.) I can argue with the best of them and walk away with a smile and forget the whole thing.
And this time I did just that. Proud of myself for staying entirely professional while she took everything I said as a personal attack, and thus attacked back, I sat down, got to work and was happy to listen to new songs that I can finally add now that my ipod is unlocked.
But then it hit me, as Aaliyah was in the middle of singing "At Your Best," it sunk in how completely wrong she was and I briefly wanted to give her the facts the way they were.
Yeah, last semester I wasn't in the office everyday and I don't spend my life at the paper.
But I didn't feel I needed to explain to her that I have taken 19 credits both semesters this year, did a internship last semester and am just trying to make up for what I constantly feel like is lost time after I spent the spring semester of last year at home getting chemo and the summer getting radiation EVERY DAY, not sure when, or even if, I would be able to return to school.
No, I don't where the fact that I had cancer like a badge of honor on my sleeve. I don't deny it, but neither do I wallow. I'm sure some people who I hang with everyday, still have no clue what I went through.
But it did happen. I was so blessed to catch it early and bounce back like nothing happened, but everything had changed.
I lost more than follicles. I lost some of the confidence I once had in abundance and am still trying to reclaim. So as I went in the stairwell after feeling like I had been so wronged and thinking to myself, "Is she freaking serious?" I cried. And it felt good.
I let all the hurt out in those tears. Didn't feel it necessary to mention how I didn't think twice of handing her money last week after hearing of her financial situation, even as my own cash flow was tight.
I called my mother, and after I quickly told her I wasn't dying (FYI . . .don't call your mother sobbing and scare the crap out of her, especially if she still gets uncomfortable at the thought of you going out after dark in the 'mean streets' of DC) I shared with her my frustrations.
In between my "they don't have any idea." and "she don't know me" I realize why she doesn't.
I never told her.
One day when im not so angry, I should maybe tell her my story. I def learned my lesson. Can't get mad at somebody for not knowing something you never told them.

Thankful for her good cry,
Queen

*The pic is me crying (so appropriate:) on the lap of my late-and oh so GREAT! grandaddy sitting with my aunt, grandma and my brother and cousin on the floor