Bye, Regina.

Your reaction when everyone raises their hands in agreement that they've been personally victimized by you...

I have a secret: I'm a mean girl. No—THE mean girl. And I'm good at it.

I speak first and ask questions later. I silently judge everything. I take up as much space as possible without considering the space needed for others. Most importantly, I'm fly with a killer wardrobe and my side-eye game is strong. I'm "that bitch".

The only thing is, no one else knows this. There's a reason why it's called a secret.

No one else can tell that I'm a mean girl; only me. When people describe me, they generally say something along the lines of how nice I am, or how sweet, funny, energetic I can be, and so on, and so on. But, more than anything, when people approach me or shower me with compliments, they generally say that I'm filled with positivity, or that I give off an aura of positive energy. And to that, I always say 'thank you' (verbally), but on the inside, I'm really saying 'positive since when?'. On the inside, I'm beyond confused as to how people see me in any kind of positive light, because to me, I'm the most negative person I know.

To reference the iconic movie that is Mean Girls, though I come off as a "Cady" type of girl, I truly feel like I'm a "Regina". Because while everything's all good on the outside, I'm secretly victimizing the one person I have complete control of 24/7: myself. That's right. I—in my subconscious—am Regina George, and I'm here to ruin my day and wreck my esteem.

Some address this as our "demons". Others say this mentality comes from trauma. Psychologists say it's the result of anxiety and the beginning of a downward spiral into negative or unwanted thoughts. RuPaul even has a phrase for it: "inner-saboteur". It's that voice in your head that second-guesses every move, beats you down for every mistake no matter how small, scoffs at your dreams and ambitions. I call her Regina, and yes, she has personally victimized me damn near every day of my life.

She speaks first and asks questions later. She judges everything I do and say, good or bad. She takes up as much space in my head as possible without considering the space needed for other things like my confidence, happiness, certainty in who I am. Most importantly, she's fly with a killer wardrobe and a side-eye that'll make me change my mind. Instead of a skinny, blonde teen, she's a tall, black woman with the perfect hair (she can wear any natural hair style like it's nothing), perfect shape, perfect face, and shuts any room down rocking anything from a black leather jacket and combat boots to a sundress that makes her ass poke out. She's the manifestation of my inner-saboteur and my repressed perfectionism; the most perfect version of me who has made herself overseer of my thoughts and emotions, enough so that she gets the final say. And yet, all I want to do is be her—gain her approval like all the other high school girls did in that movie. She's without a doubt a bitch, but she's "that bitch"; HBIC of my subconscious.

But just because I'm a mean girl at hurt doesn't mean I'm content with it. Dealing with my Regina for close to 26 years has been exhausting. She sucks all of the air out of my life and leaves nothing useful left for me. She moves the goal-post constantly, making it damn near impossible to please her. The most insulting thing about her is that her rules for me are different than her rules for everyone else. For example, when other people eat burgers and fries, I hear, "Omg I'm so hungry, that looks so good right now", but when I eat burgers and fries, I hear, "You're fat, AND you're breaking out, yet here we are, eating food that'll make you look just as crappy as you feel; seriously, you disgust me." She's even comes for my dreams and ambitions on the regular like it was nothing: "Why even apply for that position? You're not as good a writer as you think you are, not an experienced designer, not ready for your career. Might as well keep scrolling"..."A blog, again? Who the hell's gonna wanna listen to you, let alone read anything you've written? Do you even have anything of value to say?"..."You'll never be published. Your work has been rejected countless times and IF you ever finish your novel, you know it'll never get picked up."

With her, I find that the things I'd never dream of judging others for are the things I use to judge myself so harshly. Never in my life would I even consider saying half the things I say to myself. I'd never be so nasty or rude to tear down someone over the smallest imperfections, but I do it to myself every day, and before I know it, Regina has exiled me from the lunch table (yet again) because I can't meet her insanely-high standards (and excuse me if I don't feel like wearing pink every single Wednesday).

Sometimes, I think about Regina George in Mean Girls. Like, really think about her and everything that went down in that movie because of her. I think to myself, "Gretchen doesn't deserve to put up with Regina's shit" and "Karen's too nice to have a friend like Regina" and "Poor Cady had no idea what she was getting herself into when Regina recruited her to be one of 'The Plastics'". And then, the same question always follows these thoughts: if those girls deserve better, don't you?

And the answer remains: "I do."

I do my absolute best to give people the grace they need. No one is perfect, and even at our best we fall short every single day. Because of this, I'm kind to people every chance I get, because I know it's not easy being a human being in this world, and the battles we fight are often the ones within—the ones no one else can see, but truly do affect us the most. Why add to someone's struggle when you can help alleviate the strain? So, with myself in mind, why add to difficult times with my own negativity and scrutiny? I'm a human being just like everyone else I meet, and I deserve the same grace for myself that I give to everyone else. What's more, each day, God gives me new grace and more chances that I've neither earned nor expected. Every day, my slate is wiped clean and I get another opportunity to be the best me I can be. I just figured that if my Creator can cut me some slack, then I should be able to cut myself some slack, too.

I know this isn't the end of Regina. She's still overbearing and cynical, but she's coming around. Or better, I'm coming around. I'm realizing more and more that after God, I have the final say in my life. I'm both my best friend and my worst enemy, and I can choose which one to give my time. This may look like getting into a mental fist-fight with Regina in an attempt to get a grip on my reality, or it might even look like me over-talking her by speaking positivity over my life out loud for me to hear, register, and accept. I know I'm too mean to myself, but even this comes with grace. It's gonna take time to unlearn all the trash Regina has been whispering in my ear, and that's okay. When that day finally comes, and Regina decides to join the Girl's Lacrosse Team and keep her distance instead of breathing down my neck about everything, I'll make sure I'm as consistently gentle with myself as I am with everyone else—and I'll make sure I'm good at it.