This is J. Young. I’d like to do another piece about confidence and self-worth.
In my youth, there were things that I was made to suffer at the hands of those that said they loved me. I was ordered to stay silent for, far as long as I can remember I always felt [unclear]. The process of writing came as complete shock and relief. It made me feel like I found my superpower.
When I first started writing it was really hard because I had been restricted for so long, boom, threatening to [unclear], trying to find the right words to say how I felt was the hardest part. I was still scared. I felt like I needed permission to express myself. The truth is, I did need permission. I had to tell myself that it was okay, along with some other people’s encouragement. But what shocked me was the most — I actually had the words. I always had the words but not the confidence that will come later.
I felt my confidence weak. I felt slightly incomplete because I couldn’t really express myself. I grew angry, insecure, depressed, but I still struggled. I refused to not put the work in, because there was a lot I had bottled up that I need to express to the world — my [unclear] is to myself.
After a while, writing became invigorating. I found hidden rhythms and different word forms — the written word. My written words became used, spoken word, short stories a deep expression of that small, scared little boy that was still deep inside of me. He had found his superpower. What I have learned in all my years of life, to eat better and then interest in therapy. I learned more about myself and my words and wait for the skilled commentary of human life is that we have more in common in the sphere of trauma. As long as we’re reliable, I’m able to reach people.
The most rewarding part of writing is meeting an aspiring writer and helping them on the journey, reminding them that the hardest part of writing is, well, writing, getting started. Also. letting people read my work and watching their response that is fire to the feeling, in its own way. The little boy in me smiles, happy his notions are heard. Thank you.
These commentaries are recorded by Prison Radio.
