Things I Never Said is finally here. I have a physical copy, it’s available for purchase online or at Barnes & Noble. And while I’m overwhelmed by an abundance of emotions, primarily I am amazed. I’m wondering how the hell I gathered the resilience and diligence to press my pen to paper despite the tears, fears, and doubt filtering into my ears. I’m unsure as to whether it was due to faith or fear. Because I couldn’t get enough of both throughout the past eight months.
On September 21, 2017 the poetry collection was merely a list of my most gratifying and gut-wrenching memories. As I began capturing specific moments from my childhood, I recognized the voice in my writing had evolved. With more perspective, I could clearly write about what has happened and what has hurt over the past nineteen years. Initially the task was therapeutic. It became essential once the idea of being limited by unresolved issues in my twenties seemed very likely. I decided to write the suppressed pain away until I could separate it from myself. At the time it was unclear what sensation I’d feel most at the end. I hoped it would be relief. However, I’m experiencing more than that right now. The most overwhelming emotion of them all is astonishment. I’m aware of myself well enough to know of my persistent nature. But I’ve never turned an idea or series of thoughts into something tangible on this scale. My story, thus far, is now up for grabs and up for interpretation by anyone intrigued enough to listen to it. Perhaps that’s what rattles me. It is one thing to say you can and that you will but it’s another to say you can and you did. Today, eight months later, I can say that I did. I did release what I had chosen to suppress. I finally released the things I never said.