I’m scared


It’s common for us to stay at levels in our lives that bring us comfort.

Change is hard, isn’t it? Especially when it is unwelcome and unexpected.

I’ve spent a few years developing who I am, my work and my brand. I’ve been in and out of counselling, attempting to work on my demons.

I’ve said things out loud that I have held in for years, felt the emotional agony in my chest that comes from releasing ancient trauma.

I’ve given myself permission to really begin the healing process, to learn the tools to work through it all and accept the help that is offered.

And while I’ve finished my recent bout of counselling, I’m by no means healed. I’m in the process of healing.

If you’re reading this, maybe you already know I’m a writer. Maybe you’ve already watched my IG stories, read my social media posts and commented on my blogs. Maybe you’ve heard me speak at an event or have heard about me. Maybe you haven’t at all.

When I first arrived on the creative scene in 2013, I was open about my journey. I was open about some of the experiences I had been through, probably because I was right at the beginning of my freedom. But along the way I stopped talking about the childhood abuse, stopped making references to domestic violence in adulthood and instead spoke about my mental health, if anything.

And that topic certainly has its place, I agree. But let’s try something different.

Let’s talk about what happened to us.

I said in a previous post that I want to talk less about my anxiety and depression, and more about the abuse and trauma that caused it.

I want to highlight the dark corners of my life that the light doesn’t normally touch.

Because people always say I’m inspirational, they say I should be proud of what I’ve achieved, but I want you to see why I find it hard to. I want to show the world that you can do anything, but also show myself that my experiences weren’t in vain.

I’m typing this a few days after speaking to a life coach and I’ve been thinking about what we discussed. I’ve been thinking about my reluctance to have women who have experienced trauma, abuse and bereavement as my nice. I’ve been thinking about why I’m hesitant to put myself out there like that. I’ve asked myself why I’m so scared to help women like me.

And it’s not about the women, I suppose it’s more about me feeling ready or good enough. I suppose it’s me doubting my impact or relevance, and me running away from anything that feels scary.

I’m scared, I promise you now. Not even of any consequences that come of me sharing my story. I haven’t pinpointed what scares me about being vulnerable.

But I’m going to feel the fear and walk forwards anyway. I’m going to own my story, own my past and own my narrative. No more hiding behind over people. No more keeping myself busy with distractions.

I know it will help me as I heal. Even typing this is helping. I can feel it.

So my message to you right now is that it is okay to be scared. Being scared means we are doing something different, we are initiating change and we are being incredibly brave about the steps we’re about to take.

Be brave with me xxx

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