Emotional Baggage

It’s 10:30pm and I’m having one of my emo moments on the ttc.

I remember when I came to live here as a teen I didn’t know anyone. I’d go to high school and come home, eat, watch mtv and do my homework. Day after day.

I felt trapped. The monotony was killing me. I was a teen okay, so yes it was that dramatic.

So to break it up, I’d ride the Bloor-Danforth line back and forth. Curl up in a corner. And write.

I did that for a few months. And eventually it evolved into writing whenever I was on a long trip. All of these blogs I’ve written are always done while traveling. I guess it’s a mood.

Anyways.

Today I talked to someone about how I used to write. And it made me miss it. So here I am. Writing on the ttc. System of a Down and Evanescence accompany me. A true 90s baby throwback.

I’ve been on a long little journey to come back to who I am. My true essence. One that doesn’t carry the immense amount of sex based trauma I’ve apparently held for years. I only found out about it in this past little bit. It’s weird how your brain protects you from harm at all costs. I’m grateful for that protection, but just like everything else: it’s time to grow out of it.

I know I’m getting pretty personal on a platform that’s so public, connected to my name, and above all, my work. “It’s not professional” my head tells me. But the other side of me believes that it’s not worth limiting who you are, no matter the activity. I guess now anyone who I do work with will now know a little bit about me. And I’m okay with that. Hey… don’t you have your own baggage too?