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Facts and Feelings

When I was a kid, I entered an essay contest at the urging of my father. The given topic was "Freedom: Our Most Precious Heritage".

There were no rules. Just to write about what that title meant to me. I spent a lot of time thinking about my father's military service and my appreciation for being born into a country where freedom was a gift given before I was born, one bestowed on us all as birthright but not earned, and not guaranteed. 

I came in 2nd. The judges said it was a hard decision but they felt the guy who won did so because he compiled a lot of research.  Mine was more feelings, and although compelling and passionate, his was full of facts. And facts take time to research. Feelings just are. (Apparently the judges were unaware how many drafts my feelings actually require 😳)

I think that has always sat with me in a negative way. Like I need to be a historian to speak about something. As if my voice isn't valuable on its own.

Weeks ago, I committed to writing Democrazy, my facts, well researched. But I struggled. Not to gather facts. That is surprisingly easy if you know where to look 🙄. But because it is not, nor has that ever been, my sweet spot.

I am not a Heather Cox Richardson. I am not a Robert Reich. I am not Reuters or AP. They have those information bases covered. Information is more available to us than it has ever been and yet people ignore facts, don't want to read or are just bored by it. But for anyone seeking that knowledge, it is abundant and instantly at your fingertips in ways it has never been before. People are making a conscious choice to reject that information.

I started to wonder why I should bother to write at all, about facts OR feelings. Is anyone even capable of listening right now? What words could I have that could make a difference?

But then I thought about the person i used to be before the chaos of this world silenced me, before the trauma stole my sense of self and my confidence that I could make a difference. Before my fire was reduced to an ember. Where is she? Because SHE would be tolerating none of this. SHE would have words. A LOT of words.

Waffling between despair and hopelessness now, I struggled to write anything at all. Inside my head was screaming but my voice and pen were silent and still. I picked a really bad time to forget who I am. But some days in the silence, she's there. I hear her.

So, after these last few weeks of struggle trying to become what I am not, I decided that what the world needs from me are the words I am the best at, feelings. And not because those are easy. They are not. (I have always found the deep feelings that exist in all of us are probably, in fact, more difficult to speak than simple facts.)

But i truly believe that feelings, both mine and what my words evoke in others, is what could change our trajectory in the hours before us. It is in our ability to connect with our humanity, to feel, to learn thru those emotions, that will alter our course. They are what sparks the community and connection we are currently lacking.

Don't get me wrong, facts are important and will always be engrained in anything i write. And just like that essay contest, facts will eventually win the day. But most of us live in our feelings whether we admit it or not. And right now, whether they are feelings or facts, I need to find them, if not for the whole of humanity, at least for my own.

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