What’s your story?
I have a love/hate relationship with this question. I love sharing my story, parts of my story at least. I struggle so much to know what to share and how much to share. After sharing my story I struggle to not beat myself up.
Yeah. Beat myself up. Because sometimes my story, my journey, my brokenness feels like something to be ashamed of. It’s not something to be ashamed of. It just is. And it is what has shaped me into me. But it’s easy to believe that my story makes me lesser.
As I was getting ready to brainstorm ideas for this blog and get some writing done, a woman who constantly pours her heart into so many people reminded us of the importance of sharing our story.
When I share my story I always start it with my 6 mos migraine. Having a migraine for 6 mos and healing from that played a huge role in my transformation into who I am today.
But actually, my story starts way before then.
It starts with afternoons spent crying in my bedroom sad because my dad was leaving for work and I wouldn’t see him for 2 weeks.
It starts with being made fun of and feeling so unwanted at school that I didn’t want to live anymore.
It starts with an emotionally abusive boyfriend in high school.
It starts with having to start over with friends as a 16-year-old.
It starts with clinging to a religion different from what I knew because the people there made me feel wanted and welcomed and loved when I felt worthless, unwanted and forgotten.
It starts with feeling like an outsider in your family because you’ve come to believe things so vastly different than them.
It starts with feeling awkward and out of place in college.
It starts with overloading my plate to the point that I after a year and a half my body said no more and made me stop.
Which gets us to the migraines. But my story doesn’t stop there. However, when I share my story, I often talk like that is the only part of my story. It keeps going.
It continues with healing my body.
It continues with learning to say no to people.
It continues with learning to take care of myself.
It continues with healing learning to love myself, not sabotage myself.
It continues with exploring what I actually believe.
It continues with stopping the people pleasing, and rediscovering who I actually am and what I actually believe.
It’s learning to be confident in sharing those choices.
It’s opening up to a man again. Learning to trust, and learning to share my heart again.
There’s so much that goes into each of our stories. There are all these little pieces that we overlook, and fail to acknowledge as parts of our story. When I was encouraged to share my story earlier I immediately thought about my migraines and my healing process. But my story is so much more than my migraines. I am so much more than the illness that I have healed from.
What is your story? What are the little pieces that you are leaving out when you think about your story?