On Friday, I published the first post on my blog.
It was not even public yet, and by Saturday, I was already being tormented by demons.
First came unease. Some kind of fear. Anxiety.
Then the voices:
“Why are you doing this?”
“What are you going to write about?”
“Who even cares?”
Everything began to feel empty. Powerless.
I did not know what to do with myself.
In the evening, release came.
Things I thought had already been resolved suddenly began to stir.
I realised that the situation I had blamed myself for over the years was, in fact, anger towards my parents that I had turned against myself.
Because that felt easier.
Safer.
But on Saturday, I allowed myself to feel that anger.
I did not pretend it was not there.
I did not look for an immediate solution.
I simply felt it.
I have been in therapy for long enough to know that this is a natural part of the process.
I had been waiting for that anger for a very long time.
Today is Monday.
Do I feel better? Perhaps a little.
Am I less afraid? No.
But I picked up my phone, and I am writing.
Because that is what Simply Me would do.
She would not give up.
Not now, after so many years of fighting for herself.
Not after taking so many steps towards the truth.
I still do not know when I will find the courage to make this blog public.
I still so often feel that I “do not know enough”, that there is something more I should do, that I need a certificate, a title, or permission.
But my heart knows.
My heart is already showing me the way.
It is my inner critic, my ego, trying to push itself between me and Simply Me.
But today, I hope that with time, I will learn to quiet it.
Not by shouting.
But by choosing.