I figured out at a young age that I was different in some way. Maybe because I was dark-skinned, black, caribbean descent, connected to the Divine in some way. And I was vulnerable. And I wanted to be loved and to be seen as beautiful and valuable, in a way that no one around me was capable of making me feel at that time. I was alone. And in my vulnerability, I was taken advantage of. By many. And I think I learned to allow myself to be violated repeatedly by tensing up and whisking myself away when the violation happens. I’m not talking about sexual violation. That did happen. The violation I am talking about is mental and psychological. I feel like because of the events that transpired in my home life, I became a target for abuse on many levels.
Over the years, I learned to stop allowing my heart to speak freely and openly about how I feel and about various traumas. I learned that people don’t come to my aid when I need them to. This affects me on a creative level. Fear of speaking from my creative place makes it so that I stifle my writing and method of expression. But it needs to come out. It needs to be expressed in order for me to live in the fullness of my being.
I guess this is why I’m here. This is why I write the things I write on this page. This is where my heart writes its truth, unfiltered and uninhibited. It needs to happen.