Progress is showing up to the page

Silence used to control me. It's hard to explain how much, but imagine that every word and action was monitored for years, until I didn't need to be monitored anymore - until I was the monitor.

You lose your voice and personality.  

I agreed with the community that rejected my experiences, from the smallest emotions to the largest questions. I remained silent, because I agreed that my story was not allowed. I was afraid of rejection. I was afraid of hurting vulnerable people.

I am still afraid. I feel weak for not being able to speak under my own name. But I am clearing my throat, I am beginning to speak. For now, progress is showing up to the page.

What feels true today:

The first ones to tell the story take a bigger risk, and deserve our gratitude.

The threat of rejection means that your story is powerful. 

There can be a strong bond between you and the few people that you trust with all of your story, and I am grateful for that.

There will always be uncertainty when you tell the story for the first time to a new audience, when you are waiting for a voice to answer back.