I Found My Voice Through Writing

I find writing easy. I don’t have to really think too much and the words just come out onto the page fluidly and freely. It doesn’t take me very long to write a blog post that documents what I’m thinking, and because of that, I can usually write at least a post a day.

I use this blog to share my stories, but I also use it to hide behind my words. It’s difficult for me to share my story with others in person however easy it may be to write about them. It makes me feel uncomfortable to be too vulnerable in person because I can’t hold back tears in the moment. I still feel so deeply troubled and hurt by the past that even telling people the basic details of my life is painful.

It sometimes feels as though I shouldn’t even share details of my past. I’ve opened up online and with my writing to a degree, but nothing compared to the full story. I’m not sure I am ready for that just yet.

When you can’t share your story, it feels like your past never existed in the first place. It feels like there’s a gap in my life that is filled by someone else who isn’t me.

When I write and share aspects of the past, I feel like I am reclaiming my own story and integrating that past identity with my current one. It feels like I am giving myself a voice that has been silenced for too long.

I’ve felt ashamed by the trauma I’ve experienced throughout my life even though I realize none of it was ever my fault. I feel scared to share my story because I don’t want others to look down on me. Upon sharing key details of my life with others, I often receive uncomfortable silences and looks of pity in return. People don’t know what to say or do when I open up, and so for the longest time I tried to keep it all bottled inside. I felt like I needed to keep it a secrect, only available to a select few.

The most painful part of it all is the fact that I felt like I was losing the past by not talking about it. I was never able to form any sense of identity because I pretended the past didn’t exist. I felt like I lost years of my life that I could never get back. My story was stolen from me, but I am here to reclaim it.

I was afraid to tell people the truth because I thought it would hurt those who hurt me. But I’ve started to realize that my story is my own and I shouldn’t give this part of myself away so easily. I’ve already given so much in my life. I’ve given myself to others. My energy. My time. My kindness. Now is the time to take it all back.

I thought that I didn’t deserve a voice. I didn’t deserve to take up space in a room or to ask too much from others. But, this isn’t true. I am starting small by sharing my thoughts, but this small step has made a tremendous impact on my life. It has shown me that what I am thinking is valuable and I, myself, have value. It has shown me that my voice is unique in a sense, but also relatable in other ways. I feel less alone and isolated from those around me because I am finally starting to show them who I am.

Writing down my thoughts and feelings has allowed me to understand myself better and feel more comfortable in my own skin. Although this will happen little by little, I will eventually get it all out. I will eventually reclaim my story fully. And I will eventually understand who I am.