Being with the Brave Blues

It's okay to not know what to say
Usually, the Brave Blues require less words than we think
Less words, more presence
More bare feet on the cool grass
Soft touches on shivering arms
Subtle tears face-to-face that read
I love you for your courage, sister
Yes yes yes

No, we don't need to know what to say
to be with someone's Brave Blues

But there are a few things that I'm learning
from experience
feel a bit less supportive, less loving
even when they don't mean to

They sound something like this:
1. Are you sure you want to expose your blues?
2. Are you sure you're strong enough to be so brave?
3. You're better off processing in private.
4. The world doesn't know how to be with your... shit.
5. Keep your skeletons in the closet.
6. Think about your reputation.
7. And your family, for god's sake.

Anne Lamott recently tweeted something that made the rounds
She said,
You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should've behaved better.

There are a lot of messages out there about what you should do:
Tell your story
Share your truth
Be vulnerable
Be brave

Sometimes, the same people who encourage you with these short nuggets of advice
are the first to respond with skeptical review:
You've gone too far
Maybe you should re-think your courage
Think about your career, your image

This is a positive and powerful process for me
My career, my image, is a direct reflection of that process
And my capacity to be with people in their processes

I am not afraid to be a full human
I am not afraid of our expansive experiences on Earth
Even when I hate them
Even when I resist them
Even when I want to erase them
Here we are
Here we are

The hardest part about beginning to tell my story
is not that it happened
or even that I'm retracing it--
But that my here we are mentality is radical and confronting to some
And that confrontation gets projected back on me
But it's okay
Like I said, here we are

We can learn the task of listening
I can be a better teacher
I can say
It's okay if you're scared of my story or my raw expression
I don't blame you
Most people never speak
You rarely have to hear it

And then I can also say
There is no pressure to tell your story
If you have one
Sometimes, we tell it when we're ready
Sometimes, we tell to only one
To a small circle
A professional
A journal
Sometimes, we never tell
Either way, I judge not
I trust you
I trust your process

And then finally
Thank you for even showing up to hear my story
I tell it simply because so much is untold
And I don't think we can heal
what we do not know

I say "we" because I do not hold the lot of my trauma alone
I am part of a wounded body of people who are untrained
in talking about the dark sides of sex and power

That body is all of us
We all suffer in the shadows of our unhealed collective
And that's okay
Here we are
But I know we could also be there--
Some place a little more healed
A little more okay with our wholeness

So I will not wait to be all healed up
Before talking about rape or sex or power
I will not wait to be an expert, polished, or eternally wise
Because it's the practice, the process, for me--that heals, that garners wisdom

I've been in a waiting game for far too long
I will let myself play in the messy territory of our
Collective naivety
Because I am Brave
Because I can be with the Blues
Because I know that healing is a long path
And I know how to walk slowly and breathe, in good company
It's time