It is scary.

It is scary to press the publish button.

It is scary to think about being truthful to myself, and doing myself the honour of trying my best to heal my heart. It’s uncomfortable, the degree to which I have adapted myself over a lifetime to serve the needs of others. It is heartbreaking to realize all of the potential my brain bully has stolen from my life.

I am afraid to tell you these things. I am afraid to reveal myself to you. The world has shown me how little of other peoples pain it can handle. I am not shouting these things for all to hear. I am writing them down for me to repair the damage I have done to myself over the years by not being authentic, vulnerable and honest.

I am learning how to be honest with myself, but I spare no feelings. I am not afraid to cry, and it is as natural and as beautiful a feeling as it is to laugh. It is a sacred truth I share with myself. The depth of my pain is equal to the potential of my joy. This is why I spare no effort to know my emotions more bravely, and confront the ideas which have tormented me and brought me unnecessary suffering. When I am honest with myself, I learn that fear is imagined, and bravery is as real as you believe it to be.

In healing there is a paradox. You cannot become well if you haven’t been sick.

I am becoming more well every day. But it’s still scary to look ahead and see goals instead of nothing, and to know that every day I get closer by simply showing up, stepping forward and holding onto the idea that my bravery is bigger than my fear.

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