Lyrical Logic

It’s finally here. The month my book comes out. Never thought I’d say those words. Especially given the shit I’ve been through in the last 2 years. But anyway, It’s book month. Which is a little bit exciting, but also terrifying.

Mostly I’m not sure what I expect out of this experience. I don’t know if I think it will do well, or if it will flop (honestly it will probably flop but I’m okay with that). I don’t know if I’m supposed to be promoting it or if I’m supposed to just let it be. Now, I don’t recall if I’ve ever said this before, but Elizabeth is not my real name. Neither is Ardelle for that matter. So, promoting this collection is rather difficult because four people that know me know I’ve done this, and I have no intention of telling anyone else.

I realize I just dropped a bomb on you. Elizabeth Ardelle is my pseudonym because the things in my poetry collection are so personal that if it ever got out to my friends and family it would cause a lot of issues in my life. My family doesn’t necessarily see the things that have happened in my life as traumatizing. Especially those that contributed to my cPTSD (complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and yes, it’s diagnosed). So if you look me up, you’ll find a Facebook page, Twitter account, and Instagram that are inactive because I have given up trying to live two social media lives.

Aside from my name, everything else here is true. Everything I share with you is real life and how I really feel. I changed my name to protect myself. When my therapist suggested I publish this poetry collection that I started writing as a way for me to express myself I started shaking. The thought of my family and friends reading what I was going through, what I had gone through, scared the living hell out of me. After years of being told that my feelings were invalid the idea of putting myself out there, the idea of showing everyone the rawest moments of my life (including moments of wondering if suicide was the way to go) was, and still is, the one thing that would have stopped me from doing anything with that collection.

So, while in this moment I don’t believe you’ll ever know the real me, one day you might. And I just ask that you not try and pry into the details. Because these things are so personal and so hard to talk about that I don’t want people to know. And while the questions and the “hope you’re really okays” would be well intended, I don’t think I could handle them. Not from certain people. Plus I don’t need my ex to read these things. He had enough control over me, he caused so much of the pain, I refuse to allow him to see just how badly he broke me. But he can see how I healed and built myself up piece by piece without him.

So, it’s book month. Here’s to not allowing myself to talk myself out of cancelling the publication (don’t worry, I won’t). Here’s to not knowing what the future will have in store for that collection of work. And here’s to the outlet I have found to express myself and the things I’ve been through in my life. Because this shit isn’t easy, and everyone deserves an outlet.