I speak from a place of healing and strength. I touch lives and inspire people. I do radio and TV interviews. I speak at huge corporations. I am the poster child for what a survivor should look like. Mostly that is who I am. Mostly.
There is also still the 3am silent weeping angst that lies dormant, sometimes for years even. Then suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, in what should be my strongest, proudest moment the self doubt hits me like a sledgehammer. I pour my pain into words. Endless words in random scribbles until the tears stop.
The next morning(or rather later that same morning) I wake up and try to dredge some semblance of meaning out of the rambling. Now I have an audience. It feels like there is some purpose to the pain. The words can reach somebody else. My sharing can help somebody feel less alone. This time I didn't edit it to put a positive spin on it. I kept it real.
This is for every person out there who has ever believed they're not enough and therefore on whatever level deserve to be treated like less.
You are not alone. The next time you look at me and wish we were more alike, know that we are alike, on a much deeper level than you could ever believe. I dedicate this poem to #slutwalkjohannesburg