Once I was told I was “too much.”
Too vocal. Too loud. Taking too much space.
And so began the shaming into Smallness.
To keep another’s secrets safe you have to be small, and scared... and silent.
And invisibility becomes complete.
But my blood did not run blue: it is Red; the colour of flames. Of rage. I have been starving for too long and my hunger is no longer a thing of shame. This fire in the belly is rising.
“Nice girls don’t get angry.”
The safety valve has broken. My “too much” no longer locked and contained and it’s the angry wolf released to roam... and she is ravenous. 🐺
My love and light has a darkness at its edge. The shadowland where I sheltered the embers until the burning could begin. Maybe you were right to fear my hunger; this anger will hurt — but it can also heal.
Either way, I will not away into smallness, starvation and silence again. The pyre is lit and I will dance around the leaping flames... and glory in my too much.
* 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴. 𝘖𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦.