A little over three years ago, I was given a label. By two very dear friends. I still carry it with me now, and I suspect it’s going to stay around for the long haul. It is not a glamorous or honorary label. Neither is it a derogatory label. It is simple yet dependant on a complex web of the past, more of the past, and yet more of the past. Despite that, it is, in essence, just a label.
If there is anything the label did, it was to bring clarity to a darkly confusing turbulent time. It made the world make a bit more sense. It pulled the rug out from under the shadows lurking, bringing the pair to light. It gave us a clue, to how much damage was done.
While it is not exactly burdensome to be carrying the label, I do sometimes feel the weight of it pressing against my conscience. It seems I have not exactly gotten used to the label and its relationship to me, strange bedfellows are we.
So even as I accept the label I have been given, I will not let the label define who I am.