As I grow more and more fragile, I feel increasingly unsafe.
Plot may thrive on conflict, but I need a place, a space, and a time to channel that conflict into words. I need a place of safety to write.
All my life, I’ve felt as if I had to go through daily life, surrounded by enemies. I’ve reached out, searching desperately for allies, for kindred spirits while being screamed at, kicked, and hurt for simply being who I am.
I’ve tried to disappear, blend in, not wanting those enemies to know it was me they were screaming at, kicking, or hurting. Sometimes I’ve succeeded. Too often I’ve taken the blows.
How do I live and let live, when so many aren’t willing to do the same for me?
I feel very alone as I ask these questions. I know I’m not alone. I know that I am a we and we are feeling the same lack of safety.
Our spaces to write and create may become more precious as our enemies become more powerful, loudly lording that power over us.
We may have to create safe spaces for our creativity, moving them as others try to seize and destroy them. We may have to think of how to create and move them while we all struggle to survive.
I never wanted to think about these things, but I am forced to, as the world becomes more unstable and unsafe.
I try to keep going, treasuring the space I have, wondering how long I’ll keep it.
Good luck to all of you in finding, creating, and keeping your safe space. May we all find the power to generate new ones, if we lose the ones we have.