Tonight I feel my own humanity hurtling toward me like a freight train.
Tonight I wrestle myself... the unworthy, keep-myself-hidden, stay-small part of myself vs. the expanding, show-who-I-really-am, brilliant part of myself. A knock-down, drag-out brawl happening in the confines of my head.
Tonight, the Stay-Small part is winning. Brilliant is on the mat and Stay-Small is standing over it, screaming like an abusive drunk with greasy hair, sweat-stains on his grimy undershirt and spittle flying from his putrefying mouth. Stay-small tells me that I don't have anything important to say and that no one wants to hear me anyway.
I used to post whatever the hell I wanted on this blog and if was too scary or too personal, I would write it in a poem. And now, I am scared to write anything that means anything. And this means anything, in case you were wondering.
The tornado that has lived inside my body for the past several years feels like it's mostly emerged and I now walk through it daily rather than have it dwell inside me. I'm not positive that my situation has improved, but it feels like progress, so I'm calling it that.
But tonight, I felt like I swallowed the tornado whole and it's ripping through me, taking my voice, my breath, my brilliance.
I don't really have anything more to say except that hitting that publish button up there is the most terrifying thing I've done in a long time.
Here's to living beyond my fear.