As I type this, I am sleepy. Tired too. I almost didn’t write today. I let work and all it’s intricacies take control. I am writing now given the commitment I made to myself. That I would write not only in joy but also in pain. Not just when alert, but also when sleepy.

Bell Hooks once shared in her book Sisters of the Yam, that when we speak the truth of our lives, we begin to heal. Telling the truth, a flat-footed one, as Patricia Bell Scott would suggest, is a crucial step in any process of self-recovery. Telling the truth releases the burden of hiding. Telling the truth helps to shape and determine my destiny. Telling the truth keeps me alert. It’s also a reminder of the powers that lie deep within me and a commitment to honor that power. And so writing has become a space where my truths are uncovered, where my feelings are expressed, and my thoughts are listened too.

Writing for me is also a place of hope. An intense one. It’s the one place I am free to be myself. Free to touch my core self. Free to let it be. Free to let it move as I want. Free to let it speak as it feels. Writing is hope for me. A space where my soul is restored, where my mind is recovered, where my being is redeemed even while sleepy. Keep telling your truth.