My newest release, Me Too: A Poetic Timeline, just came out, although I’ve been writing it since 1967.

One of the impetuses for publishing my book of poetry resulted from a rough conversation with my best friend about my sharing MeToo much, which triggered an onslaught of emotions. Well, maybe not an onslaught—just four.

My first emotion was anger directed at my friend for hurting me. Then, I was angry at myself for being unable to control my mouth, followed by pride in myself for speaking out. The fourth emotion was more of a resignation—the knowledge that most people will never understand the why and how of MeToo and me.

Following that frank conversation, I took a critical look at myself, my MeToo pain, and my inability to shut up about it, which had me asking myself: When is MeToo too much?

The answer that immediately came to my mind is NEVER.

But now that I’ve finally published my book, Me Too: A Poetic Timeline—a compilation of journal entries I’ve been writing for fifty-seven years—I feel a renewed sense of myself.

My MeToo book of poetry allowed me the freedom to speak my truth and gave me a sliver of peace—an infinitesimal sliver, but I’ll gladly take it.

During my 2024 process of going back in time, combing through five decades and hundreds of journal entries and poems, I realized that my MeToo life played out in four painful but definitive life-altering phases.

Phase One: Shut it

Phase Two: Whisper it

Phase Three: Scream it

Phase Four: Write it

And now, I’m hoping to get to the final phase—the one where I know MeToo will never be too much, but to a place where I can keep it to myself.

Me and MeToo will always be one. You see, it’s at the heart of who I am.

At first, I thought the final phase would be like the phrase in the movie The Ten Commandments: “So let it be written, so let it be done.”

But now I realize that my Me Too nightmare will never be done, but at least now it’s written.