She woke up with a word running through her mind...one word over and over...like a silly song that was on repeat. Pigeonholing. Pigeonholing. Pigeonholing. She had read the word last night...as she went to sleep...and it cut like a paper cut...it hurt more than she expected...or cared to admit. 

She knew she was doing this with her art...with her life...with her creativity. She had labelled her creativity as "photographer" and placed it on the shelf...for all to admire. By her creative heart hurt. Deep down she knew she was scared...scared of failure and of success. She knew the label was pigeonholing her creativity. It kept her safe. She played in the playground with other photographers and at times felt inadequate. She waited for the tap on her shoulder to say, "Why are you here?". She hid in groups and forums and watched as other shared their creations. She knew her work was good enough...she felt it was beautiful.  Honestly, that is all that mattered. But she dipped her toe in the water and shared her favourite creations. Sometimes, she received the approval she felt she needed. Other times, it went unnoticed. She knew she was more than this...but she stayed in the playground.

But this morning, she looked at the box labelled with "photographer"...and felt the need for change...she started scribbling on the box...she wrote words that are not safe...she wrote the words that are her....she wrote the words that slap fear in the face... she scribbled until box was covered in words...then she took the box to the window. She sat it on the window sill and she opened the box...she let the light shine in and felt her creativity smile...

And that word...the one that was running through her mind...it had stopped.