Burning Bridges & Toasting Marshmallows
Note from Leenadria: I am entering week 7 of the 100 Days of Deservitude challenge and I have been dedicated to this journey now for 43 days. I’m almost at the half-way point and I’ve learned that even though I have DRAMATICALLY changed the trajectory of my life by stepping into my purpose and am generally slaying 2025 (despite the current social & political backdrop) I still have work to do. And it’s surprised me because it’s work I thought was done. I'm commanding a river to flow gently across this landscape and it has not been a perfect process. I hope you can find connection in this piece and a shared understanding that no matter how far you have (or have not) come, there’s still more work to be done and you aren’t the ONLY one!
It's not easy to shapeshift your entire being and adjust yourself to constantly reside in a space where you actively exercise a belief system that proudly boasts -- YOU DESERVE THE BEST! This has to be the primary texture of innate privilege and it's just not a concept that's present in my DNA.
In the last 43 days I've been measuring my successes in beachfront sunsets and truly shocking victories, that have served as confirmation I have selected the correct path. But there are days where I'm flinging my rosy sunglasses across a room aimed at someone's head (metaphorically...of course…maybe) because Deservitude is as much a revelation as it is a revolution.
I am at war...with myself.
I've allowed peaceful borders to be breached. The FAFO¹ army does not stay on duty 24/7/365 and we have got to figure out their work schedule – sooner rather than later because my time is not an unlimited resource. There were moments where I slipped back into old habits, and only in retrospect (which was sometimes moments later), I found my voice and it was full of anger. Primarily anger at myself for allowing my boundaries to be toppled. But also anger at the disruption. If this is how I'm going to handle life, then I've got a significant amount of future rage to prepare for because no matter how hard I try, life is not going to sit inside a utopia of two-strand twists, afros, and R&B music hits from the 9-9’s and the 2000’s.
The casualties of this particular war are starting to accumulate: my time, my energy, and the diminishing reserve of patience I've been rationing. I'm beginning to understand that every diplomatic mission I launch – every carefully worded text, every gracefully phrased boundary –costs me more than just time. It costs pieces of the peace I’ve intentionally purchased and, in some cases, bartered to receive.
I've become an expert in conflict prevention, a master strategist in the art of keeping others comfortable while I silently suffocate under the weight of their convenience, misunderstanding, judgment, disrespect, and bad moods. The math doesn't add up anymore: how many times can I divide myself into smaller, more digestible pieces before there's nothing left to defend?
Would it be so bad to cover my eyes and throw a grenade or two without concern of where it lands? Alas, I am not a war monger, and scorched earth isn't exactly the best place to take in orange and pink sorbet skies while sipping on a piña colada.
Perhaps there's a middle ground between perpetual diplomacy and all-out warfare. A place where I can stand in my truth without requiring perfect words or endless explanations. Where 'no' isn't the beginning of an evidence-based thesis to justify erecting these boundaries.
But nobody's perfect.
These words have been both my guidepost and broken compass. They force me to pause and examine my intentions. Am I coming from a place of kindness? Am I centering love in these situations? Am I giving grace to others?
I've spent years taking thoughtful moments, holding back on the ferocity of my responses and many times saying nothing at all. Noticeably, others don't extend the same in return. Perhaps my words weren't perfect, or they couldn't see my intention, but the outcomes have been the same. I ultimately carry the shame, guilt, and responsibility of repair to the damaged relationship.
This uneven distribution screams I owe it to myself to offer myself grace and kindness first. Nobody is perfect and neither am I. So, if I have an outburst or launch my sunglasses at someone’s forehead, it’s an allowable misstep. Perhaps then this would serve as a warning. There's no land available here for fuckery so keep it moving.
The stakes are clear now: either I find a way to protect these borders with the same fierce dedication I should have shown that quiet, invisible girl I once was, or I'll end up sipping melted piña coladas while watching my world burn. And honestly? The marshmallows are already packed, because I'm done letting others treat my boundaries like suggested guidelines.
This isn't just about today's peace. It's a revolution for every version of me who learned to make herself smaller, who mastered the art of diplomatic silence. That little girl who disappeared into corners, that teenager who learned to eat her feelings, that young woman who perfected the art of being misunderstood. They're all standing at these borders now, finally understanding that sometimes peace requires a show of force.
So here I am, 43 days into Deservitude, learning that maybe the real victory isn't in preventing the flames, but in choosing which bridges are worth saving and which ones I'll gladly watch burn while toasting marshmallows to my own liberation.
Weekly Deservitude Prompt:
Think about all the bridges you have built in your life – the connections, habits, and relationships you've maintained. Write this truth to yourself: "I deserve perfectly charred marshmallows with a side of pink and orange sorbet sky."
Imagine yourself sitting beside a fire of your own making, a metaphorical match in your hand. Which bridges would you save? Which ones would you let burn? Which boundaries will you protect fiercely? What treasures might you find in the ashes of relationships that no longer serve you or what possibilities exist for better versions of those relationships? Maybe even imagine what new relationships should and will look like for you.
Share your story of bridges worth burning or keep it private in your journal. Either way, you deserve to stop setting yourself on fire to keep others warm.
¹ FAFO - Fuck Around and Find Out
-Leenadria