We Are In Process; Change Or Not

I found this post so poignant, so moving, that I had to share it -- even if I don't have much to add to the conversation...

I went back and read a post from a year ago, a post of mine. I used to be so caring and there was such a compassion there when I blogged. 1 year and month later I can absolutely see a separation, larger, from how normal I was a year ago. It’s just more convincing for me that I really am pretending to be normal. I see I am beginning to become more calloused and I don’t really want to be that way.

I'm not bipolar, but I have my swings...

If I have anything constructive to say about this post is that journaling can be therapeutic; so can reading our own words. But sometimes, we might not like what we see/read... We are in process.

Expanding

I realize I've shrunk myself.

I knew I'd done it and why. I was hiding in the corners, hoping not to be seen. I was afraid of attacks -- every kind of attack. What's more, I was not worthy of taking up such space.

Not only out of sight, but I didn't dare make any noise either. Even sound waves were dangerous things... Alerting people to my unworthy existence. Not only those I might make, but those I might listen to.

I realized that today when I returned home and switched the radio on.

Whose volume setting was this? This was not loud enough to sing along to, or even to move your hips to. This was a whisper someone would have to silently should crouch beside to hear -- should crouch silently beside to hear. Why would someone do this? It's crazy!

So I turned the volume up -- perhaps as loud as I once listened to, sung along with, danced to; perhaps not. Who knows? It might even be louder now.

But I refuse to crouch in silence straining simultaneously to hear and not be heard, in some sort of limbo of painfully contradictory wistful needs.

Why would I let him, let all those complicit to his violence who further victimized me, why would I let any of them take music from me?!

I am worthy of enjoying music. I am worthy of blasting it as loudly, as obnoxiously, as I fucking-well want.

I am alive.

I

am

alive!

Why not embrace it -- expand myself -- and reclaim the auditory, emotional, and physical space that I as a living human being am entitled.