I’ve been afraid to write for a long time. Ever since my ex-husband found some writing I wasn’t planning on sharing with him that hurt his feelings and caused a huge rift. That was over 10 years ago. I’ve been afraid to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God. I’ve been afraid to show the ugly parts, the lost parts, the hopeless parts, and the whole me to everyone, preferring to only show the part of me that someone would like or relate to. And so, because telling the truth is bound to upset someone, I haven’t written. But that’s not real life. Life is not only the triumphs, but also the toil and falling and getting back up that get you there. Life is not only the dance, but also the painful months of awkward stumbling and stepping on toes needed to learn the steps. My life has not been ordinary, nor has it been easy. Not the hardest life by any means, there are so many more people with a tougher story than mine. And honestly, I’ve been the one to make it difficult. But no one ever said that living life outside the box would be easy. And damn it all, I just can’t live inside the box.
I have a story to tell. It might not be extraordinary, but it’s mine, and I need to tell it. It aches inside of me, like a baby needing to be born. And so I have a decision to make: Do I go on, not telling the whole story and not permitting it to take it’s own first breath of air? Or do I let go? Let go of fear, judgement, and shame? Do I allow others to take responsibility for their reactions, instead of holding on to them, at my own expense? Do I choose growth or stagnation?
I’ve come to the breaking point. I choose life. My own life. I choose me. I choose my voice. Whether or not no one is listening, or everyone is listening, I choose to speak.
I’m sorry if you get your feelings hurt. But, then again, maybe I’m not. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.
Why share it here? Publicly? Because, somehow, just writing it down for myself seems selfish and cowardly. There are millions of blogs out there, and I have no reason to think that mine will be famous or special. But you never know who might read it, be touched, and have a little more courage to tell their own truth.
Here goes nothin’.