Let’s Get Vulnerable and Personal, Shall We?

Personal stories make us human and we all need to know it’s okay to be human.

Image licensed from Canva

My hand shakes a bit as I hit publish, I look away, sigh and I step away from my laptop before I could undo, delete, reverse it all. I lived it, I thought about it, I gave birth to it in my head, I bled on the keyboard, and now it has a life on its own — it can soar.

And it can also ruin me.

I am writing personal essays, more often than not. My most powerful stories are coming from real-life experience — and sadly it’s not too pretty. Even more sadly, known from the comments, a lot of people can relate. Too many.

When I first wrote about abuse, I was terrified. I wrote about how domestic abuse is slowly creeping up on you, how it is taking over your whole life, leaving you broken and hurt with no one to help you. I was scared to be judged. I was afraid to be ridiculed and bullied. I was terrified to let in on the whole wide world on my well-kept secret.

I write about rape, narcissism, revenge porn, abortion. I write about sexual abuse, I write about heartbreak, I write about fears. And I write about sex and love and sexual orientation.

And I allow the world to judge me, to evaluate…