Voice

I wrote for many years.  Journals, mostly, and some short stories.  Poems sometimes, but I mostly leave those to the professionals.  My college years were accompanied by LiveJournal and Xanga, giving a public outlet to so much real and imagined angst.

My memory is long.  I remember what I wrote and the predicaments where it got me.  When a particularly humiliating event comes to mind and I think no one's looking, I'll indulge in a physical cringe, squeezing my eyes shut and balling up my fists.  I'm not sure whether it's a helpful act, but what else do you do when your brain doesn't let you forget?

I was a mediocre college student who really should have majored in something other than Spanish, and most of those years were spent learning some sorely-needed social skills and recovering from full-blown trauma -- my dad nearly died on the job two months before I started college and my brother nearly died while I was studying abroad my junior year.

After I graduated, despite years of promising myself I'd wander the country for awhile, I stayed put and did a couple of years of AmeriCorps. I meant to write through that experience, but around the same time my voice dwindled out.  I was in situations where I felt less sure of myself, less willing to speak out.

Who will set a guard over my mouth, and upon my lips an effective seal, that I may not fail through them, that my tongue will not destroy me?

I've been attempting to write every day this month and so far it's surprised me how difficult I now find it to share what's on my mind.  I do fear destroying myself to some degree and my inner critic is strong.  Am I afraid I'm wrong or am I afraid I won't be able to defend myself?

Recently a friend of mine spoke out about some rampant sexism she'd been experiencing about her workplace.  Today the local paper ran a cover story about it.  She had tried to go through the regular channels to address it but kept getting roadblocked.  So she sought out a journalist.  I'm immensely proud of her for speaking out, but even more so for trusting her voice after so many people told her she was being too sensitive or that she should just get used to it.

I think about being in her position.  Would I have been able to find my voice as the others tried to drown me out?  I like to think of myself as someone who doesn't care about the opinions of others, but I spent a large part of my twenties silencing my own.  I'm trying to find my voice again.  Bear with me if I wobble; it's been awhile.