Overshare: My Inside Voice Got Out

Yesterday I decided to let my inside voice out when I posted this on one of them there social media platforms. I normally don’t share my intrusive thoughts, and I’m not quite sure what compelled me to do so this time, but I’m not taking it back. I figure, why not leave it up? With the carrying on that I’ve seen on the innanets, why should I be scared to add my flavor to the pot even if it was an overshare.

I have seen some posts, and this wasn’t the worst I could do in comparison. Not that I’m trying to do worse. It’s just that my nervous system has been shot! I know I’m not the only one either. It’s just tew much going on in the world, in my friend circle, and my personal life. So when I made a painful mistake, as I’m wont to do with my clumsy self, I had to laugh at myself. Then I took it a step further, and I shared. It probably was an overshare, but so what? The stuff I’ve seen lately, my post won’t be contributing to the decline of society.

If anything, maybe the illusion of daintiness and objectification that’s placed on women’s bodies will crack. We are actual living beings out here, left with some afflictions caused by childbirth. You try pushing out one…two…three…four, FOUR babies, and see if you come out unscathed.

I mean, in my first childbirth experience, I got torn from the rooter to the tooter! In the second, I was cut in half and put back together. In three of those births, I labored for over 24 hours. That’s a lot of bodily trauma. You men could never! (Not trying to turn the sexes against each other. I’m just sayin’).

Then, WHEN THE MILK COMES IN! Mothers know what I’m talking about. When your titts turn into torpedoes. The horror! Why don’t women talk about this kind of thing out loud???? I never knew! Until the day I knew. Pro tip: hot water bottle, towel, or heating pad, and have a breast pump handy, stat!

Anyway, I digress. Back to my overshare.

The things I’ve seen on the innanets often makes me question why I’m so afraid to share portions of my personality and thoughts. I also rarely comment. The last thing I’m going to do is get involved in some virtual beefs with people I don’t know over some real feelings. Social media can be a mentally dangerous place. When I actually do post, I do it in the midnight hours, and then I don’t sleep. Posting makes me have actual panic attacks.

I tend to keep my opinions to myself. All my life I heard my dad say, “Opinions are like @ssholes. Everybody’s got one.”

Then why am I afraid of sharing mine? And I would actually write more, but then I have to share it. Why am I going through the trouble of even having a blog when I go quiet so much? It’s why I haven’t tried to monetize. Every few months I post something so you know I’m still here. Heck, I even wrote an ebook and I didn’t advertise on my own medium! Crazy. I know! But then I’ve seen it said by a few in the media industry that no one reads anymore. People want quick videos, audio tracks or podcasts to multi-task with.

It’s not like I have anything to lose. I am still unemployed from that mess last July, when a multitude of black women had our jobs cut from 2025 to the present. I often feel defeated, but I know I have to forge a new path. I need to come up with something that no one can take from me. My thoughts, creativity, and sense of humor, often in the face of trauma, are things that cannot be taken away from me.  

Time to stop living scared and do all the things. One post at a time.