Your True Direction

Tag: Poetry Writing

  • “If You’re Gonna Go, Let Me Go With You”

    Your True Direction

    spoken word, from the trenches of loss and love

    Let me make this simple.

    I’ve lost people I shouldn’t have lost.

    Not to war. Not to car crashes.

    But to silence. To shame. To the weight they were too scared to hand someone else.

    And I’m pissed about it.

    Because I would’ve sat there all damn night.

    No advice. No judgment. Just presence.

    But no one gave me that chance.

    And now all I’ve got are eulogies I never wanted to hear.

    So this isn’t some poetic tribute.

    This is a wake-up call.

    To you. To anyone thinking they’re too far gone or too heavy to carry.

    Let me say this as clear as I can:

    I’d rather lose sleep than lose you.

    I’d rather be uncomfortable with your truth than devastated by your silence.

    Don’t make me show up in a suit. Show up now. Messy, tired, breaking — whatever. Just show up.

    This poem is for every person who’s ever thought no one would sit with them in the dark.

    You’re wrong. I will.

    And I’m not the only one.

    Just stay.

    He never asked me to be okay. He just stayed — quiet, loyal, present — when no one else knew how.

    I would’ve stayed.

    Sat beside you in silence.

    Watched your walls crumble and said nothing —

    just handed you the pieces

    because I’ve been there, too.

    But you didn’t let me.

    Didn’t give me the chance

    to carry even a corner of that pain.

    You just… vanished.

    Quiet like snow.

    Loud like a gunshot.

    Now all I hear

    is your absence.

    I would’ve taken the late-night calls,

    even the ones where you didn’t say a damn word.

    I would’ve sat on the floor with you,

    in the dark,

    in the mess,

    while the world kept spinning and you couldn’t.

    I know that place.

    I’ve cursed the sunrise too.

    Screamed into pillows until the seams split

    and still woke up wondering

    if it was worth it to breathe again.

    So don’t tell me I wouldn’t understand.

    Don’t you dare tell me I wouldn’t have stayed.

    I’ve lived inside the ache

    that convinced you no one could love you through it.

    But I would’ve tried.

    God, I would’ve tried.

    Now I’m stuck

    writing poems instead of texts,

    lighting candles instead of cigarettes,

    whispering your name

    to a sky that never answers back.

    And here’s what haunts me:

    I never wanted your strength.

    I just wanted your truth.

    Even if it was ugly.

    Even if it shook.

    Because I’d rather

    hear you say “I can’t do this anymore”

    than stand at your grave

    wishing you had.

    I’d rather hold your trembling hands

    than hold your obituary.

    I’d rather lose sleep

    than lose you.

    So if there’s someone else out there

    standing on the edge,

    this is for you, too:

    You don’t have to make it look easy.

    You don’t have to carry it alone.

    You don’t even have to speak —

    just stay.

    And let someone love you

    in the middle of your falling apart.

    Because I promise you this:

    I’d rather walk with you through hell,

    than sit through your eulogy in heaven.

    Enjoyed this article? Please support our work!

    ☕ Buy me a coffee: Thank You!

    About Your True Direction

    I’m not here to play nice, I’m here to make change. I work with veterans, teens, career shifters, and anyone who’s ever been told they’re too late, too broken, or too much. I help people rewrite their story when the world hands them a script they never asked for.

    I don’t save people. I remind them how to save themselves.

    That’s my legacy, and I’m just getting started.

    Follow along as I speak truth, challenge systems, and help folks build a life that actually fits.

    Connect with Us

    Follow us on Medium @YourTrueDirection.

    Your journey is yours to shape, take the next step in Your True Direction.

  • If My Pride Offends You – That’s the Point

    A letter to the mother who taught me how to hide myself.

    Your True Direction

    For every son or daughter who’s ever been told to tone it down, hide who they are, or “keep it in the family” – this is for you.

    For every queer kid whose parents tried to shove them back in the closet after they finally broke free of it.

    This isn’t a plea for acceptance.

    It’s a warning shot.

    We’re done apologizing.

    I walked away from the house that taught me to hate my own reflection – and I didn’t look back.

    Mom,

    Let’s cut through the crap.

    That poem I posted – “If My Pride Offends You, That’s the Point” –

    Yeah. That was about you.

    Every single line.

    Every word carved out of the silence you insisted I keep.

    Every sentence soaked in all the times I swallowed myself to keep you comfortable.

    You want to know why I wrote it?

    Why I don’t come around anymore?

    Why the version of me who still wanted your approval is dead and buried?

    Because I got tired of being the only one who ever had to shrink.

    Let’s go back.

    When I told you I wanted to marry Chris,

    you didn’t smile.

    You didn’t cry happy tears.

    You didn’t ask what kind of cake we were having or what colors we picked.

    You looked me dead in the eye and said,

    “Are you sure?”

    Like I just told you I was getting a face tattoo, not committing my life to the person I love.

    Then you tried to walk it back.

    Tried to say you asked Benny and Ashley the same thing.

    No, you didn’t.

    Don’t insult my intelligence.

    You celebrated their love because it fit inside your box.

    You accepted their marriages without a flinch.

    But with me?

    You flinched.

    And then came the wedding.

    Your judgment didn’t stop.

    You said we shouldn’t dance.

    Because “someone might not like it.”

    You ever ask me if I liked spending my life editing who I am just to be allowed in a room?

    You didn’t care about that.

    You cared about optics.

    About shame.

    About what people would say.

    Then Dad didn’t show up.

    And you say, “I argued with him.”

    Really?

    When?

    Where?

    Because I never saw it.

    You didn’t raise your voice.

    You didn’t defend me.

    You didn’t say,

    “Then I’m not going either.”

    You didn’t say,

    “That’s your son, and he matters.”

    You just stayed quiet.

    Sat in it.

    Normalized it.

    You want points for arguing behind closed doors?

    You don’t get credit for invisible battles when your son was left standing alone at his own wedding.

    And if all that wasn’t enough?

    Let’s talk about Thanksgiving.

    Our first one after we were married.

    Chris and I show up – husband and husband.

    Legal. Legitimate. Real.

    And what do you do?

    You introduce him as “Ryan’s friend.”

    Not my partner.

    Not my husband.

    Not family.

    A friend.

    And when my nephew tried to introduce Chris properly,

    you corrected him.

    You corrected him.

    Let’s talk about that, Mom.

    Because what you said in that moment was loud as hell:

    That I was an embarrassment.

    That Chris, who is legally part of this family, wasn’t welcome as who he was.

    That being gay is something to downplay, something to manage, something to cover in polite company.

    What if Cody was gay?

    What did you just teach him?

    That if he ever loved differently, he’d have to hide it?

    That his truth would embarrass you, too?

    Because that’s what you said without saying it.

    And let me tell you:

    I heard you.

    He heard you.

    Everyone heard you.

    I used to think you just didn’t understand.

    But now I realize you did.

    And you chose silence anyway.

    You say, “I’ve always loved you.”

    No, Mom.

    You loved the version of me that was small.

    Quiet.

    Careful.

    Filtered.

    Tolerable.

    You loved me when I was convenient.

    But every time I stepped closer to truth – you stepped back.

    That poem?

    That wasn’t for show.

    That was the sound of my ribs cracking open so my soul could finally breathe.

    It was everything I never got to say while you smiled and shifted and pretended everything was fine.

    You’ve said things like, “Don’t post that.”

    “Don’t say that at dinner.”

    “Keep it private.”

    No.

    I’m done keeping your secrets.

    Done protecting people who never protected me.

    Done tiptoeing around your shame like it’s my burden to carry.

    If my pride offends you?

    Good. That means it’s working.

    Because I’m not here to make it easy for you anymore.

    I’m not here to fold my love into something that fits your dinner plates.

    I’m not here to pretend your silence was love when it was just fear wearing a cardigan.

    You had a chance to love me boldly.

    You had a chance to say,

    “That’s my son. That’s his husband. This is family.”

    You didn’t.

    You chose quiet.

    You chose image.

    You chose your comfort over my dignity.

    So no, I don’t call.

    No, I don’t come around.

    Because every time I did, I had to leave pieces of myself at the door.

    And now?

    I refuse.

    I take up space.

    I speak loud.

    I post what I want.

    I dance with my husband.

    And if that makes you uncomfortable?

    That’s. The. Point.

    You had your chance to show up.

    You had your chance to speak out.

    You had your chance to be proud.

    Now I’ll do it for myself.

    And I won’t lower the volume just because you’re still not ready to hear the truth.

    – Ryan

    Enjoyed this article? Please support our work!

    ☕ Buy me a coffee: Thank You!

    About Your True Direction

    I’m not here to play nice, I’m here to make change. I work with veterans, teens, career shifters, and anyone who’s ever been told they’re too late, too broken, or too much. I help people rewrite their story when the world hands them a script they never asked for.

    I don’t save people. I remind them how to save themselves.

    That’s my legacy, and I’m just getting started.

    Follow along as I speak truth, challenge systems, and help folks build a life that actually fits.

    Connect with Us

    Follow us on Medium @YourTrueDirection.

    Your journey is yours to shape, take the next step in Your True Direction.

  • Strings Unbound

    By R.T. Garner

    “The greatest prison people live in is the fear of what others think.” -David Icke

    This series explores the struggle of breaking free from the heavy chains of societal and family norms that dictate who we should be and how we should live. It delves into the emotional and psychological battles faced when choosing authenticity over conformity, highlighting the courage required to challenge deeply ingrained beliefs and expectations. Through personal stories, reflections, and powerful imagery, the series encourages readers to confront their fears, question their internalized beliefs, and take bold steps toward living their truth.

    Introduction:

    Let’s cut the crap: we’ve all got strings tying us down. You know what I’m talking about – the expectations from society, family, and even the ones you’ve piled on yourself. These are the invisible chains holding you back from who you really are. Whether it’s the pressure to fit in, the fear of being judged, or just the daily grind of keeping everyone happy, these strings are keeping you stuck. But here’s the kicker: you’ve got the power to cut those strings and break free. All you need is to grab the damn scissors.

    This series isn’t some feel-good fluff. It’s a wake-up call. It’s here to shake you out of your slumber and remind you that the only person who can change your life is you. We’re diving deep into what it takes to be resilient, authentic, and rise above the bullshit that’s been thrown at you from day one. You’re going to see stories of breaking out of toxic family cycles, learning to trust yourself, and finding out what it really means to live unchained. These are stories of people like you who got tired of everyone else’s rules and decided to live life on their own terms. And each one is paired with a poem that hits right where it hurts – because sometimes, you need the right words to wake the hell up.

    Let’s not sugarcoat this: life’s tough. The road to breaking free isn’t some smooth, easy ride. It’s full of bumps, bruises, and straight-up bullshit. But every step of the way is worth it. This series is here to show you that the only path worth walking is the one that leads you to your real, unfiltered self.

    So, are you ready to get real? Ready to cut the strings and unleash the badass you’ve been holding back? Grab a drink, buckle up, and get ready for one hell of a ride. Let’s do this.

    Part 1: Early Struggles – “Stormy Seas

    “Your silence will not protect you.”-Audre Lord

    The Weight of Silence

    Let’s cut through the noise: everyone knows what it’s like to lug around a secret so heavy it feels like it’s crushing you. It’s like carrying a rock in your gut every damn day. And why do we do it? Because in a world where everyone’s got their heads up their own asses and their eyes on everyone else, standing out isn’t just risky – it’s downright dangerous. So, what do most people do? They shut up, blend in, and bury anything that makes them “different” deep, deep down, hoping it never sees the light of day.

    But let’s be real: faking it every day? That shit will wear you down to nothing. Pretending to be someone you’re not isn’t just a hassle – it’s soul-sucking. You smile, nod, and laugh at jokes that aren’t funny just to keep the peace, keep the friends, keep your damn head above water. At home, it’s more of the same. Your parents? Not the bad guys – they love you, sure – but they’ve got their own set of rules on how you’re supposed to live your life. For them, “success” means coloring inside the lines. No waves, no risks, and definitely no room for anything that doesn’t fit their picture of “normal.”

    So, you keep quiet. Seems easier, right? Better than rocking the boat and finding yourself tossed out. But here’s the brutal truth: staying silent is its own special kind of hell. Every night, when the world goes quiet and you’re left alone with your thoughts, the weight of what you haven’t said presses down like a thousand-pound brick. What if you just let it all out? What if you said what you really feel, who you really are? Scary, yeah – but not half as scary as living a life that isn’t yours.

    “The Weight of Invisible Chains”

    In the dead of night, where thoughts run deep,

    Lies a voice that’s tired, longing to speak.

    Tied down by rules, by what others say,

    Dying a little more, day by day.

    Invisible chains, binding tight,

    Made of expectations, fear, and fright.

    But beneath the silence, a fire burns,

    Waiting for the moment, the tide to turn.

    Break those chains, cut that cord,

    Freedom’s a risk, but it’s one worth fighting for.

    The weight of silence, heavy and cold,

    But your truth? It’s pure fucking gold.

    Reflection: The Emotional and Psychological Impact of Hiding Your True Self

    Let’s get real: silence feels safe, but it’s the biggest lie you’ll ever sell yourself. Pretending to be someone else isn’t just exhausting – it’s deadly. It’s like wearing a mask that gets tighter and tighter until one day, you can’t remember what your own face looks like. And why do we do it? Fear. Fear of rejection, fear of pissing people off, fear of being seen for who we really are. But the cost of staying silent? Way too fucking high.

    When you’re not being yourself, you’re not living – you’re just surviving. You miss out on real connection, real happiness, and a real sense of who you are. Breaking that silence takes serious guts. It’s not just about saying, “This is me.” It’s about tearing down every damn belief that was forced on you and building something real in its place.

    Misconceptions and Myths About Breaking Free from Societal Norms

    Time to bust some myths that keep people chained up:

    1. Myth: “It’s better to fit in than stand out.”

    Nope. Fitting in just means shrinking yourself to make others feel good. Screw that. The world needs people brave enough to be real. Being yourself is hard, but it’s the only way to live a life that’s actually yours.

    2. Misconception: “You can’t be yourself and still be loved.”

    Bullshit. If someone only sticks around when you’re pretending to be something you’re not, that’s not love – that’s control. The ones who matter will love you, flaws and all. If they don’t? Don’t let the door hit them on the way out.

    3. Myth: “Once you speak up, everything gets easier.”

    Wrong again. At first, it might get harder. People don’t like it when you flip the script on them. You might lose some folks, piss others off. But what’s the alternative? Keep quiet and suffer? Not a chance.

    4. Misconception: “Your parents or community always know what’s best for you.”

    Hell no. They know what’s best for them, what keeps them comfortable. But that doesn’t mean they know what’s best for you. Only you can decide what makes you feel alive.

    5. Myth: “There’s a right time to break free.”

    Nope. There’s never a “perfect” time to unleash your truth. There will always be fear and doubt. The right time is when you decide you’re done living a lie. That’s when you say, “F**k this,” and start living for yourself.

    Challenge: Where Are You Staying Silent?

    So here’s the challenge: where in your life are you still biting your tongue? Where are you holding back because you’re afraid of what might happen if you don’t? What if you just said it? Yeah, it’s scary as hell. But the moment you stop carrying that weight, that’s when you start to unfuck yourself. Speak your truth, even if your voice shakes. Especially if it does. That’s how you break the chains.

  • Unseen Battles

    By R.T. Garner

    In shadows deep where secrets lie,

    There’s a battle fought beneath the sky.

    A silent war, unseen, unheard,

    Between the heart and the spoken word.

    To stand against the tide of hate,

    To challenge fear, to change one’s fate.

    To speak the truth in the face of scorn,

    Is the bravest act when the soul is torn.

    For every word that cuts the air,

    There’s a wound unseen, a soul laid bare.

    But in that truth, a spark ignites,

    A flame that guides through darkest nights.

    Image: Here’s a black and white illustration that beautifully captures the idea of nature as a mirror for the soul. In the artwork, you’ll see majestic mountains that stand for our challenges and dreams, a wide horizon that symbolizes endless possibilities, and a tree with deep roots and far-reaching branches that represents growth and staying grounded. It’s a reflection of finding balance — holding on to what keeps us steady while still reaching for the sky.

  • Choosing Freedom: A Reflection on Healing and Self-Definition

    By R. T. Garner

    When life knocks us down, it often forces us to ask: Who am I really? Am I just the sum of everything that’s happened to me, or can I choose to be something different? This question is at the heart of Carl Jung’s powerful words: “I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.” It’s a reminder that, no matter what we’ve been through, we have the power to redefine ourselves. This message comes to life in the poem “I Chose to Be Free,” which tells the story of a veteran’s courageous decision to break away from the confines of family and societal expectations in order to reclaim their true self.

    The poem takes us through the raw and real journey of someone living with PTSD – a reality that’s often misunderstood by those around them. It paints a picture of what it means to be seen only through the lens of trauma and to feel trapped by the labels others impose. But like Jung’s quote, the poem is about more than just the pain of the past; it’s about the bold choice to step away from those limiting definitions and rewrite one’s own story. Both the poem and the quote remind us that our identity isn’t fixed by what’s happened to us; it’s something we can choose and create, moment by moment.

    “I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.” — Carl Jung

    I Chose to Be Free

    When asked of choices, hardest in my life,

    I spoke without pause, without a knife –

    Leaving my family was the choice I made,

    Not from desire, but a path I had to pave.

    As a veteran scarred by battles unseen,

    With PTSD, my life became a screen –

    A lens through which they could not see,

    A person beyond a diagnosis, beyond the debris.

    For years, I tried to make it right,

    To show them the man beyond the fight,

    But I saw myself fading in their eyes,

    Trapped in a version they’d idealize.

    To stay would mean losing who I am,

    A soul drowned by what they couldn’t understand.

    Choosing myself meant stepping away,

    From love that had turned to a suffocating cage.

    I chose my sanity, my right to be whole,

    Not just a “condition” with limits to control.

    For every moment of doubt they instilled,

    I sought to reclaim the truth that they killed.

    Their love was filtered through fear and disdain,

    They couldn’t see past the scars, only the pain.

    Every bad day was a symptom to fix,

    Not a moment of humanness they could coexist.

    I was never a problem; I was never a disease,

    Yet in their eyes, I was never set free.

    To love them was to change, to bend and to break,

    But my spirit needed more than they could ever remake.

    I remember my sister’s words, her cold plea,

    “He just wants us to change for him,” said to me.

    Yet they tried to mold me into what they could bear,

    Not a person who fought battles, but someone to repair.

    The hypocrisy stung, but it opened my eyes,

    To the limits they set, to the narrative I defied.

    My dreams were dismissed, capped by their doubt,

    But I chose a life where my spirit could shout.

    It wasn’t easy, the choice to depart,

    It came with grief, tearing at the heart.

    But I missed what family should be, not what it became,

    A space where love was free, not a diagnosis’ name.

    I don’t miss the judgment or the toxic weight,

    The feeling of being “fixed” for their sake.

    I chose to walk away, to seek my own light,

    To build a life where I could freely write.

    Now, I’m not just PTSD; I’m a person alive,

    With dreams to chase, with strength to survive.

    I’ve found a freedom in choosing my path,

    In stepping away from what bound me to wrath.

    Do I love them? Yes. Do I miss them? True.

    But not the narrative that kept me askew.

    I reclaimed my story, my worth, and my peace,

    By choosing myself, I chose to be free.

    So when asked of the hardest choice I’ve made,

    It was leaving behind what love had decayed.

    It was choosing a future where I define my worth,

    Where I am whole, where I walk my own earth.

    I chose to live fiercely, to love without chains,

    To refuse to be boxed by others’ refrains.

    To honor my journey, each scar and each breath,

    I chose to be free, and it saved me from death.