It’s a pressing need like the urge to breathe. Sometimes the only way to understand my thoughts is to write them down. Word. For. Word. And watch them talk among themselves until a consensus on what was indented to be said comes to life.

For me, words are breath and life and can quickly become an injustice to the self if not liberated.

Somewhere within me fears the notion of being vulnerable through self expression.

Part of my suffocation comes from the expectation to remain an “unbiased member of the media”. Does my social life and political interest have to plummet into a perpetual grey zone where everyone is ok and buttons  aren’t pushed?

I’d rather cut out my tongue than play the game of constantly being Switzerland.

But somehow I get lost in the game and only realize where I am by the lack of ability to breathe or move by my free will. I become a robot in speech and thought and lackluster in identifying myself.

This is not who I am.

I have opinions and feelings and they bounce within me. I owe it to myself and those who love me to take to a keyboard or notepad and soar. Divulge.

Even writing now waters my spirit and loosens my chains. I am a member of the media but am also a member of society with viewpoints that are not yours. And that’s ok.

I am entitled to share. I do not have to deprive myself of myself. But somehow this has become a lie that I have believed. Over cautiousness has ruled my soul.

I am breaking free.

I can love who I want to love and die over realizing that waiting is a significant part of the process.

I can wear my spirit and spotenaety without apologizing for standing tall.

My God. Thank you for this refreshment. For this breathe that produces life.

Part of my chains come from my dreams that have to mature before they hatch. I feel I am in a limbo of acting and waiting to act. Can I show myself now and still “make it” or do I have to have my work speak for itself and wait for my paycheck to thicken into comfort? What a pitiful potential. I do not want to be anywhere where I cannot be me, yet I hesitate to express who I am in fear that it will limit me. I need to grow and walk.

My favorite Ethiopian proverb proves my realization to be true: “For even an egg soon stands up and walks away.” It just has to realize it’s a chicken first.

My dreams burst within me the same way my fear of letting go does. The irony of self expression and the desire to propel myself forward clash and leave me in a pit of mental distress.

Words are somehow the only remedy and I praise God for their healing nature. Sharing them with others is a tag team approach to healing.

I am a wonderful and miraculous being who has been prayed for and over since my conception. Who, including myself, can limit how high the bar is raised in my life?

I look at you world with wild wonder and excitement. I only feel like a coward when I take my eyes off of my ability to shine. Gifts were meant to be given and used and I will not be silenced.

I do not have to hide who I am to do what I love.

I will not silence myself.

I will soar.