I chuckled at a meme I nearly scrolled past the other day on Instagram. It said: This goes out to all of the girls who had report cards growing up that read, “Talks too much.”

No surprise for anyone who’s met me; I was that girl, precocious and naturally verbose. Words form brightly in my mouth and find escape in the air, releasing unbearable pressure from the percolating kettle of my mind to the outside world. Words rinse my psyche log-jammed with memories, intellect, and sentiments, an avalanche in perpetual collapse. Speech developed as a childhood bulwark defending my dignity to my family. I value clarity, so I speak.

I evolved again this year. Pinpointing what I’ve outgrown and who I am currently created space for a tender epiphany to dawn in my ribcage. I understand now why words lash against the dam of my throat demanding to flow through, why I cannot breathe clearly until they’re released. Words are proof of love, my existence.

A toddler delivered to the other side of the planet to a family who did not speak my spiritual language, I arrived fluent in loss with volumes of unspoken sorrow lodged in my windpipe. My birth mother relinquished me for adoption at 9 months old; our sacred bond was severed prematurely. I had not yet developed speech in our short time together, but I was fully present. Crushing pain took shelter in my lungs then. The only way I could express it was through primitive cries. I never got to tell her how much I needed her, how scared I was to be left behind, how I did my best to stay strong in a future I don’t believe she could fathom in her desperate state. Most importantly, I never got to tell her, “I love you.” I say it now with conviction, as if my life depends on it, because it does. I do not let crucial truths go unsaid. It almost eases the unrequited pain of separation.

I’m ready to move forward with this new self-respect. To the teachers who noted my powerful voice when I was young, I’m delighted to report it’s growing even stronger. Thank you for highlighting my strength. I claim it with no shame. I will talk “too much” until I no longer can, voicing exactly what aches to be heard.