I have had a really hard year. Truth.
I can hint at why and wrap up the truth in nuanced imagery that only I understand. Truth.
I really just want to lay it all out on the page. Truth.
Because what I am not talking about, not writing about, not sharing is a bunch of not okay stuff that really should be talked about. Truth.
I work in a system and live in a world where it seems keeping all things quiet and all things confidential is more important than being vocal about things that are wrong. Truth.
I am so tired of this. Truth.
Words are powerful.
The truth does not like to be quietly ignored.
My bravest moments have been when I have written about things I was afraid to share.
I know what I can’t say. But I can push right up to the edges. Because my voice is my own. And there is power in words.
The moment we stop believing that our truth matters is when we lose our power.
When we don’t expect a better truth going forward, we feel smaller.
Keeping ugly things quiet is like nurturing something rotten. It just plain stinks.
I am sick of the smell.
Inhaling it gets easier as time passes.