Admittedly, I’ve let myself down. Allowed the world around me to dictate how I should feel about myself. That was never me or at least not the me I know. Life has a revealed a layer of myself that I had no idea existed. Raw, ugly, sad, exhausted, curiously apologetic. As if I deserved and earned the ills of this world, the space around me and the people in it. You taught me otherwise. Still, I went on. Until I came across your words.
“Grab the broom of anger and drive off the beast of fear.”
What!? Where did that come from? It set me to thinking, at what point did I get angry enough and say “That’s it, no more!” Or as my other love said “this far, no further.” Fear is a beast; ferocious, ravenous, debilitatingly terrifying. Always in the corners watching and waiting for me to make a move, consider a next step, or to try. Have the audacity to believe and hope that maybe, just maybe I’ll be free of the darkness, consider the possibility of possible. Fear and I got comfortable. There were a few things that led me back to you and your words. Events that made me angry! Instances that made my seat next to fear unfuckingcomfortable.
It’s as if magically the broom appeared in my hand, all I have to do is make the sweeping motion. A dragging of left to right, not necessarily a sway. Beating it on its head like I’m fanning flames. So it runs out of the door. Stay out! You are not welcome here anymore. I fear that I have let you down. Allowed my voice to be taken away from me, maybe I gave it away.
I am silent no more. They will not kill me and say I enjoyed it. You didn’t want that for me. I don’t want that for myself.
I missed your birthday. Happy birthday. This space was named for you, a writer hero who will never know how she inspires me to live. I promise not to let you down this year.
With love & gratitude,