When I was younger I called myself Harriet the Spy because I observed everything & wrote it down. I kind of enjoyed knowing what everyone was talking about & not saying anything. I liked the fact that I knew secrets & didn’t tell anyone what I knew. I just wrote them down because I was a spy & that’s what spies do. It was fun. I enjoyed writing.

At some point people became curious & started reading my secrets, private thoughts, feelings, everything. All of it was there & they read it. That was the worst thing that could’ve ever happened. I didn’t talk to my parents because they weren’t available. I didn’t have any friends really. I honestly did not feel safe around people.

I stopped writing for a really long time. I could no longer keep a journal. I could start but I couldn’t finish. I was always scared to write down what I was feeling in fear of someone finding it & reading it & using it against me. Writing was my safe place. The ONLY place I ever felt safe was on a page. Here there was no judgement, no fear. I could say exactly what I wanted & I had control. Pure freedom. Between those pages I could be the me I wanted to be & not the me I pretended to be because I kept the real me safely inside.

So cut to about a year ago & I’m experiencing something difficult & all I want to do is write about it but I’m seriously afraid. I am afraid because if I talk about the experience from my perspective, as I really want to, I suspect someone will find it & use my private self against me. I make the decision to suck it up & bury it they way I did everything else.

I’m talking to someone about my decision to start a blog a few months ago. The topic of my past experience comes up. I tell her I’m afraid of what people would think & how they will treat me after. She says to me (to paraphrase) she understands my fear & that it definitely is a tricky situation but it is my responsibility to do what is necessary to make myself feel better. I have attempted to have certain conversations with members of my family about things but it hasn’t helped. I have been to counseling about 3 times & it helps but the problem is still sitting in my system. I need to talk about it in a space where I am free. I heard Iyanla say once a wound needs a witness. My wounds need one too. Even if the only witness is me.

With all this being said, I write this blog because it is my responsibility to make myself feel better. I write this blog because I am claiming a space for myself to be as I am without judgement. I write this blog because I need to tell the truth about my experiences even if it’s only to myself.

love yourself, love life, love god


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