I’m almost a year out of my separation and there are still a lot of emotions and thoughts that I’m processing from the experience. Both good and bad ones.
I keep feeling that poetry, even if it comes across as super emo and maybe-kinda-cringey, is the right outlet for me right now. Something about putting into words what I’ve been experiencing has been very healing. Granted, I am not nearly as confident in my word-smithing as I am in, say, drawing. But my inexperience in something has never stopped me before. Why should I let it now?
I think the hesitation is because I *need* to give voice to the ugly parts of my journey. Which is hard when I don’t want to upset people or… be too vulnerable. Vulnerability means there’s a chance people will be unkind. That someone will see something in me I feel is essential and reject it. I could feel attacked. I could get hurt. But it feels worth the risk to be vulnerable enough to give voice to what is clamoring to come out right now. I simply have to share these feelings. The feelings around falling out of love, of feeling unsafe and unheard, of accepting a new identity, of guilt, of pain, of elation, of new beginnings.
So, despite the fear, I’m going to continue to share at least one poem a week for the next month and see how it goes.
I never want to let fear prevent me from finding my voice.
Horror Made 