For the longest time, I thought my gift was something I had to protect. Tuck it away, polish it quietly, and maybe, just maybe—share it with the world when I was ready.
But I’ve come to realize something much deeper:
My gift is not mine to keep.
I wasn’t given clarity so I could sit in silence.
I wasn’t given understanding so I could build walls around it.
I was placed here to break down what feels too complex.
To translate the heavy into the light.
To take tangled knots of confusion and gently undo them, one loop at a time.
Growing up, I was what others expected me to be.
I stayed in the lines.
I kept things easy.
And when I finally spoke up, I did too much, felt too deeply, or asked too many questions. I was shut down or ignored.
So for a while, I stopped showing up as myself.
But that no longer works for me.
Now, I just don’t care to fit inside boxes that were never made for me.
I’ve made peace with the silence of those who don’t want to hear me.
Because I’m speaking to those who do.
And I’m grateful, truly grateful that I have a platform now.
A space to share freely, for those who are listening.
For those who need what I have to give.
Because hiding doesn’t serve anyone.
Not the people who need the light I carry.
And not the part of me that knows:
This gift was never mine to keep anyway.
