“I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.” ― Joan Didion
When I was young, my mother used to call me her little brown mouse. I can understand why. I was shy, skittish, and hugged the corners of hallways hoping to escape within the walls. As desperate as I was to be noticed, I dreaded being seen even more.
An outgoing, extroverted woman who came out of the womb joining clubs and volunteering, my lovely Mom didn’t quite know what to do with quiet, introspective me. I never really did either. Well…I had ideas, but never the gumption to follow through on them.
I’ve spent a lot of my life in the shadows, occasionally daring to venture outside the comfort zone of my mouse hole, only to duck back inside when things got messy. When depression and disease set in. When what little confidence I had was shredded.
I’ve lost my voice twice in life. First figuratively, by allowing others to speak for me. Then literally, to a disease for which I was told there was no cure. Thankfully, the disease in my body is gone; the dis-ease within my mind, however, still likes to rattle the bars of its cage.
It’s time to turn this around. It’s time to be seen, even if only by my own eyes.
Because I may have been quiet, but I’ve been paying attention. And I’ve got a few things to say. I’d like to think I’ve stored up some wisdom over all these long winters, though I may be the only one gaining from it.
Because there is so much swirling in my head that I want to sort through and too much in my heart wanting, and needing, to be expressed and released. I know I’ll feel better for finally giving voice to both.
Because there are things that piss me off. While this hippie chick’s goal at the end of the day may be peace, kindness, and compassion, I’m also a rock ‘n roll girl at heart so there will be attitude and there will be swearing. You’ve been warned.
Because maybe I can provide a little comfort for those who, like me, have felt alone, different, afraid, and ashamed of any or all of it.
I have no idea how this grand experiment will unfold. Perhaps no one will read any of this. And that’s okay. Sometimes the message is really meant for the person sharing it. What I do know is it’s time for this little brown mouse to find her voice.
So, welcome to my world. As you enter, please note the greeting on the door. It’s a simple truth I wholeheartedly believe and yet think we so often forget. At least I know I do, but I’m working on it. From my soul to yours:
You are love(d).