My voice is still here. It has not been replaced. This is the thought, or actually the voice that I heard while driving to the market earlier today. I was thinking about the book I am reading, Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, and how she is writing like I would, and writing how I would be writing, and I thought a familiar thought which I have after reading Anne Lammott, “Oh, well, she has done it, there is no room for me.” And then the voice clearly said, “Your voice has not been replaced.” And a gush of relief and space opened inside of me, and I knew that I have a right to not only occupy the space that is Kelly, but that what comes out of me is, not matter what, unique. It’s like getting that we are all part of the interdependent ecosystem of life, and that whether we are a blade of grass, an oak tree, or a 10,000 foot mountain, none of it would exist without the presence of the other.

Having a voice is one thing, using it is different. When I go to use it is when the questions, anxiety and imaginary demons pop up and the whole approval thing begins again. But as my dear friends say, “that’s my old story.” The new one begins now, and now, and yes even now. Every moment is now an opportunity to start again, start fresh and new, with a voice, using my voice, risking it all in service of who knows what.