Yesterday I watched this amazing video by a woman who has written a book about being an introvert: http://on.ted.com/Cain

It was so amazing to watch an introvert speaking to hundreds and hundreds of people. Towards the end of her talk, she spoke about how difficult it is for her to be in "out" in such an extreme way.

I am also an introvert, but, because of being an incest survivor, I have been mostly a recluse for most of my life, except for work. Anytime I was around another human being, I felt the possibility – no! probability – that I would be hurt.

Now, having mostly healed after all these years of help from an incredible therapist and from time spent writing, making art, and in nature, I am called to come out of hiding, to risk being with others.

Watching this woman was like watching myself as I go out into the world to speak from the book I have written. I need to prepare for days, and it takes me days to recuperate afterwords. But I am glad I am doing this. Glad to make contact with others who may benefit from the journey of my own healing.

I have come a long, long way from how I felt when I wrote the first poem in the book:

My heart moves
to the sound
of tears not fallen,
waiting for the emptiness
to find its river out.
The hollow drum
of my insides
echoes
with the warning
of a hurt so deep,
I am lost.
Effigies of horror
burned,
I tear at my skin
so the blood runs,
so I may feel this pain
and let the weeping begin.
At least then
I will know myself
alive.