My Voice

I’ll never forget the time I stopped posting my writings to my blog. It wasn’t all that long ago, but the impact was huge. I took my website down, and anyone who was following me at the time likely wondered where the hell I went. I was still posting on Facebook, but I’ve since learned how to play with privacy features.

I was writing for me, and secondarily there is always a message in what I write. I have healed so much of my life through my writing. I also believe that our stories help others grow and that it is my duty as a Healer to bring my audience and clients my lived experiences so that they too can gain something. In Danielle LaPorte’s book White Hot Truth, she speaks exactly to this.

“May my suffering be of service.”

When these words of hers came across the page, I damn near fell over. YES! This is exactly it! She calls it a sublime Buddhist approach to pain, and I love it.
The reason I stopped writing in that moment was because I was approached by people, who shall remain nameless, demanded an explanation as to what I was so upset about, why I was so angry. Oh and also throwing in why was I being unprofessional and swearing in my writings while I’m trying to “be who I’m trying to be”.

What the fuck?

Be who I’m trying to be doesn’t involve swearing? I missed the memo on that one. Who I’m trying to be? Must have missed the memo on that one too. Why was I so upset? Why was I so angry? Could you imagine having an audience, on a blog, on the stage, wherever, and having to field questions about why you’re writing what you’re writing, or saying what you’re saying? Having to defend your position or explain further? About why you’ve chosen certain words? Good grief.
So, off with the writing hat for a moment, and on went the Coach hat. I advised, not so delicately, that although my blog was posted for public consumption, they were in no way going to be granted permission to get the intel or whatever else may have been going on with me at the time. My favourite part of this is that the events that had taken place were months prior, and at the time of sharing it, it was just that it had come to me that day to express it all the way it did, to allow my energy to shift and transform on the subject I had shared about and to move through it.

I was allowing my suffering to be of service. To empower, to express there is always away through things, and show that clarity comes once the fog clears, yet I was now having to defend it! Talk about madness.

It was at that point that I had decided I was done. I was silencing myself. Again. History was repeating itself. I was being told that I say too much, and people don’t need to know my business. I, kinda lost it. It wasn’t eloquent, or pretty, but the message was clear. I was standing my ground, and I was done with staying quiet, I was done with not sharing my truth, I was done with the individuals that had stirred up this little bit of madness in my life. Hello boundaries.

Big sigh.

It wasn’t long before I took to the page on that topic as well, and gained even more momentum. I realized that my audience wants to hear my words, and that when people react to my story, there might be something mighty funky going on with them. Fascinating isn’t it? Not a day goes by where I don’t have words on a page somewhere. Sometimes public, sometimes private. There will never be a day that goes by that I don’t share a snapshot of my soul to connect with myself and my audience.

So today, I thank you dear audience, for supporting my voice. I appreciate you.

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