For those who are still whispering

 I saw a post on Facebook, a part of a poem, that stood out to me. No, I take that back, it was more like screaming at me. There are still times when I feel guilty for sharing my story or wanting to speak about the things that have happened to me. There are times, even in conversation, that I would love to speak up and say my truth, to talk about the things that I have had to face, yet that silence sits on our chest, and we keep our words and thoughts to ourselves. The things many have experienced are kept in the dark and overlooked. The things that have happened are things that are looked down on and judged, but I am here to stay forever and always true to who I am. From my very being, I want to shine a bright light on those awful things as a path for others to heal. Even today, after all the work I have done, there are moments I find myself shrinking, becoming small, and I look forward to the day that  Irise higher instead of shrink smaller. I look forward to the day when I don't have to hold my story back for fear of what others might think. I look forward to the day that I am able to hear, " Thank you for sharing your story for speaking up, because in that, I found my own way." 

I promise it's not this look at me kind of thing, it's a quiet strength, a courage, a hope that things could be so different for others. I am tired of people having to whisper and pretend that their hearts are no longer broken, or that the ache of trauma is all gone. It may ache forever. That has to be ok, but as time passes, edges smooth, we grow older, we see things differently, and sometimes we can sit and hold our hand on our heart and know just how far we have come. If we can come this far, we can go the rest of the way, and we will come out on top, feeling lighter, with a peace that we never ever imagined. 

In counseling my clients I sometimes hear myself and think, wow look at the things you are able to see in them but are unable to hear. I tell them how brave and strong that they are how much worth that they have but those things in me are often a whisper. A whisper I am working on but still a whisper. 

To all those still whispering including myself, we deserve to have a voice and for it to be heard. 

I heart your heart.