Ripping Off the Bandaid
At one point in time, I thought the hardest thing I had to accomplish was to live through another day, then somewhere along the way it was walking into a new environment without piercing my nails into my palms. Little did I know I would never grow comfortable with sharing the heart-words with the world and that’s what Ripping Off the Bandaid is all about. I will never forget the overwhelming feeling that took over when I told my psychologist that I had started writing, and then describing that it’s more than the journalling I used to do - the feeling of fear that consumed me when she asked if I considered sharing it with anyone. No, the easy answer was never.
Then, there I was - sitting in a parked car with my friend at some random shopping centre, passing her my phone, Notes app opened and fear consuming me yet again. Although, I have come to learn this consuming fear is all to different to the kind I used to experience, the one where my body would shut down and I was convinced I was losing all sense of life. This kind of fear was the one of unfamiliarity and vulnerability, not life threatening. To my surprise, her reaction to a poem I had written wasn’t one of disgust or shame, but one filled with so much grace and acceptance. “It feels like I wrote this” fills my ears and tears try to escape as I allow that to wash over me. Somehow I had convinced myself that if anyone were to read the words I had written, they would abandon and disown me, and yet here I was, being met with what I have since learnt is the best thing I could hear as a writer.
The thing about bandaids is they still hurt each time you rip them from your skin, you just get more prepared for the pain you’re inevitably going to experience. Sharing one, then turned into sharing another, finding myself initially refusing eye contact and preparing them with “I’ve never shown this to anyone.” Even though the bandaid still hurts when its ripped, I have become familiar with the uncertainty and vulnerability, and feel a sense of pride when I decide to do the uncomfortable thing, time and time again. What blows my mind is to look back over the last three years and to see each step I’ve taken even further outside of my comfort zone, ripping off the bandaid again, and again, and to think I wouldn’t be where I am or this far down the journey because of these decisions.
Something I only ever considered to be inconceivable - to share these words with someone, and now here I am, publishing a collection of these words, raw and full of vulnerability. My encouragement to you, dear reader, is to push through the discomfort and to just do the thing, you never know where this next step may lead.