Who Sits Beside Me Matters

I'm planning my book launch.

That's a sentence that should fill me with excitement.

And it does.

But there's one part of it that is actually terrifying me.

Being interviewed.

Not standing up and reading my poetry. Not talking about my book. Not seeing people holding something I've written.

The interview.

And I know why.

The last time I was interviewed publicly, I came away from the experience feeling uncomfortable.

I've thought about whether I should even write about this.

But this isn't about attacking another person or deciding what their intentions were.

It's about acknowledging how I felt.

Because I felt uneasy.

There was an energy that made me nervous. Things didn't feel quite right to me, and I became increasingly uncomfortable at my own event.

And yet I didn't say anything.

That's the bit I've been thinking about.

Why didn't I speak up?

I'm someone who talks about finding your voice.

I encourage other people to use theirs.

I've written about boundaries.

I've written about surviving.

I've written about speaking when you've spent too long being silent.

So why, when I felt uncomfortable, didn't I say something?

Because I was in shock.

Because I was vulnerable.

Because I was open, as I usually am.

And because sometimes you don't fully understand what you're feeling while you're still sitting in the middle of it.

Sometimes your voice doesn't disappear.

It just takes a little while to catch up.

Afterwards, something happened that has stayed with me.

My friends gathered around me.

Almost instinctively.

Like a protective bubble.

There was something incredibly powerful about that.

I hadn't needed to make a big announcement that something didn't feel right. The people who know me could see me.

They came closer.

And suddenly I wasn't sitting in that feeling alone.

Perhaps that's part of why this next interview feels so important.

This is my book launch.

My first book.

My words.

My poems.

My doodles.

Pieces of my life sitting between two covers.

I'm already going to be vulnerable.

How could I not be?

Someone will potentially be asking me about writing that has come from incredibly personal places.

So the person sitting beside me matters.

Not because I need somebody to protect me.

I need somebody I trust.

Somebody whose presence allows me to breathe rather than makes me tense.

Somebody who understands that an interview doesn't have to be an interrogation.

Somebody who is genuinely interested in the writing and the person behind it.

Somebody who knows when to ask another question and when to leave a little silence.

Somebody I can laugh with.

Someone beside whom I can still feel like myself.

And perhaps that's what I've learned from the last experience.

Comfort isn't an indulgence.

Trust isn't an optional extra.

Energy matters.

The person sitting beside you matters.

Especially when you're opening parts of yourself up in front of a room full of people.

I'm still nervous about being interviewed.

Actually, nervous probably isn't a strong enough word.

The thought of it scares me.

And part of me would quite happily remove the interview from the launch altogether and just read some poems, drink some wine and celebrate the bloody book.

But another part of me doesn't want one uncomfortable experience to decide what I do next.

I want to talk about this book.

I want to talk about why I wrote it.

I want to talk about the different versions of myself within its pages.

I want people to hear the stories behind some of the words.

I just want to do it while feeling safe enough to be myself.

And this time, if something doesn't feel right, I want to trust myself enough to acknowledge it.

I don't have to sit through discomfort because I'm worried about embarrassing somebody else.

I don't have to be endlessly accommodating at my own expense.

And finding my voice doesn't mean I'll always manage to speak immediately.

Sometimes finding your voice also means looking back and recognising the moments when you couldn't.

And learning from them.

So before my book launch, I have another decision to make.

Who do I want sitting beside me?

I don't know the answer yet.

But I know something I perhaps didn't understand quite as clearly before.

It matters.