It’s that day. Thursday. The day I committed to publishing a weekly blog post. There’s this personal voice that wants to emerge and yet it’s so bloody hard. I am trying to hold myself accountable, so this morning I posted my inability to do so on Facebook:
Within minutes, I am surrounded by love. So here I am, encouraged by friends on Facebook, encouraged by their reaction to my struggle, encouraged to just go ahead and write anyway:
I have tears streaming down my face as I write this and I have no idea why I am crying. There’s a lump in my throat the size of a golf ball that won’t let me breathe.
Voices in my head always tell me – “There should be a theme that you share. A beginning, a middle, and an end. A personal story that takes the reader along to a place of connection and action.” I know all this. I’ve been producing multimedia storytelling for more than 15 years now. Breakthrough has become known for storytelling, and has been recognized globally as a result of my years of this work. Awards abound, for which I am so grateful.
And yet, when I have to speak in my voice, tell my story, share my perspective, something inside me just unravels. The warrior who stands for human rights becomes a frightened little mouse when faced with speaking of my own humanity. I find myself hidden inside a box closed in on all four sides as I gaze longingly at the sky. If I jump high enough, maybe I can jump out. But the fear of being seen keeps me paralyzed. I stay in the box. I write anyway.
This is all I can share today. Thank you for the love and encouragement that got me this far. I am publishing my Thursday blog after all.