Fog. Snow. Both make me feel safe. Veiled, from the world around me.
I know it’s all still there, but out of sight becomes a safety net where no one can find me. And what can no longer touch me, can’t hurt me. Until it does.
As an AuDHD woman, I’ve found the old saying to be untrue.
“Sticks and stones” and all that. Words can hurt me. Words can unravel me in both devastatingly beautiful, and terrible ways. Because what does hurt me lingers. I sit with it. I overthink. Even words from a stranger can debilitate me, simply because it was taken the wrong way, or my intention wasn’t properly realized. This is ultimately why I have had to walk away from platforms. Platforms I had built over time that were once rewarding.
When I was a little girl, I wanted so much to be a famous singer and dancer. I was built for it. Raised on it. Fame was something injected into the veins of not only myself, but my siblings, my mother, and my aunt. Each of us born with our own musical talents and aspirations. But psychologically, it was the reward system that broke me. It was where value was placed. And without that value– without rewarding my family with my success, I had none.
Fast forward to 2021. My breakout year as a poet. My account went viral. The notifications never ceased. I couldn’t keep up with them. And the books sales sky rocketed. My reward system screamed, “Finally! You did it, Tarah! … You did it.”
Then, the algorithms changed. The content remained the same, but it wasn’t enough. However, my name was built, so when Threads debuted, I was already ahead of the race.
The bigger you are, the easier you are to find. The quicker you’re the target. And little Tarah wasn’t made for such things. Building the necessary armor to survive the onslaught of judgement, comments, hate, misunderstanding was never something I was equipped with. Especially as a little girl. Having a voice, other than for melodic value, was never an acceptable situation.
After years of building my own little corner of success, I am left with questioning my identity. It was never monetary. It was about being seen. Validated. Heard. Appreciated for my talents. It was the outlet I craved, being a mother of five. My children had always been my career. And this was just for me. But for now, I will sit behind the veil of the fog. I will allow myself to unravel.
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