i am healing

I don't cry in public; I barely get to the point where sadness chokes me and steals the breath from my lungs.

I don't tell people everything about me; I like having parts of me hidden away behind brick walls and barbed wire.

I don't talk about my invisible ailments; Doing so creates another face in the crowd morphed only for pity.

I don't tell the whole truth; I hide the cracks and soften the edges for them because they couldn't handle it.

I have allowed myself to become a persona, a mask, a facade. And I have been growing weary the longer I live.

So now, I allow my darkness to breathe in the presence of one I know understands. They are like me; they hide so much behind their smile.

I find comfort in them and hope they find comfort in me. But as I tell them about my truth, I realize this:

I am not as broken as I thought I was. Not anymore.

I am still damaged and trauma-burdened and war-torn. And the fact I can say it out loud to one person and now thousands,

Even under the guise of a pseudonym,

That tells me I am healing. The fact that I wrote and released a book filled with the most vulnerable parts of myself

That tells me I am healing. The fact I can talk about the parts that squeeze my lungs and make me shake without doing either

That tells me I am healing. The fact that I identify as a survivor and not a victim

That tells me I am healing. The fact that I am here, alive and living.

That tells me I am healing.

If you enjoyed this, please check out some of my other work.