I don’t share my pains & traumas to evoke sympathy. As a matter of speaking, I don’t receive sympathy very well. It feels undeserving, like I know I’m strong enough not to need pity.
I grew up surrounded by people that suffered in some way and repressed their experiences and feelings. I, in turn, did the same finding that my expressive nature made them uncomfortable.
I was a reminder of what they once were or what they wanted to be, but for whatever reason, they were not able. I brought out feelings none of them wanted to face. So, I stopped facing them myself.
I share these stories because I navigated those lonely waters well, alone.
There is no way I could feel fulfilled if I didn’t pass on what I’ve learned to others. To let whoever needs it to know they are not alone.
I have tested the bounds of life and death. Of love and fear. Fury, disappointment, confusion, and joy. I have hated others and loved them with passionate chaos. I have been wealthy and poor. Sheltered and homeless. I have been jailed and a wandering nomad. I have been provocative and modest. The spectrum is wide and long and to say the most, absolutely invigorating, unpredictable and maddening.
You may not know what to expect, but I assure you, whatever it is will be authentic and impressionable. In the great words of one of my favorite authors, “DON’T PANIC.”
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