Give me a pen and I will write. Give me a mic and I will speak. Give me the tool and I will use it. For so long, I waited for someone to see that I was capable of using those tools. That I had something to say. That my voice had value. I just wanted someone to listen. I was invisible in the shadows. I spoke to myself. I wrote in my journal. I waited. And still I waited. It was just me and my journal. Me and my unspoken words. I would listen to music and as the lyrics spun around me, I would think I want to express myself like that. To be heard. To turn my pain into something beautiful. Something that we all can relate to. Because when I heard certain songs that spoke to my heart, I wouldn’t feel so alone. I would feel hope. One day, things could be different.

For so long, I thought I had nothing to say. I would start a sentence, and it would fade before I finished, as someone spoke over it. So, I started to fade. I received all the proof I needed to confirm that my voice didn’t matter. Even worse, that it was “bad.” It would be better for everyone if I stayed silent. Still, I waited for someone to finally see me. That I had value. Then, finally things could change. Then I could speak. Then I would have permission.

I put that hope on people who couldn’t give it to me. Still, I tried. My voice was relentless, it wouldn’t give up, but it didn’t know where to go either. It went where there wasn’t space for it. So I ended up getting hurt more times than I would like to admit. And I just wanted to shove it down. It would be so much easier if I stayed quiet…

I didn’t feel like I had the authority to give myself permission. I didn’t feel like I could see the value in myself. I needed someone to tell me first. And that’s been the lesson in all this. That I have to see myself. I have to give myself the mic, the pen, the stage. And that I can. I have to listen to myself first. I am the one to empower myself. I just didn’t believe I could. I looked to everyone but me. I became a chameleon trying to sound like everyone else, like what would be accepted. I lost my voice in the process.

So I’m still in the process of getting it back. But slowly it’s returning. I have to earn it’s trust again. But it never gave up on me. It persisted through the darkest of nights. I’m still afraid to use it. And I don’t quite know how yet. But I’m trying. I’ll push through the fear for my voice because it deserves to be here. I’ll fight for my voice because it didn’t give up on me, and I won’t give up on it. Even if I’m the only one who hears it. Even if it's just for me. The only validation I've ever really needed is from myself.

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