Why You Should Tell Your Story

Last week I stepped out big time into the unknown territory called Honesty.

It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t perfect. In fact, it may have even rattled a few cages. All in all, it was one of the most daring things I’ve attempted thus far in my writing.

I told my story…in public.

Well, at least part of it. Where I Am From was not easy to write. Even though I had a template, just allowing myself to travel back in time to gather those memories and images, was very draining. [Word of caution to those who want to attempt writing their own “Where I’m From” poem. Expect an emotional hang over. Take a day off or something. You’ll thank me later.]

And with that word of caution, I’ll also share some advice. Remember this:

You only have one story to tell. It’s yours alone and no one else’s.

So tell it with your whole heart and own that sucker like a scar or a badge. Ignore the self-doubt and those who might not understand or object. Listen, you don’t have to shout your story from the roof tops. But if you have wisdom to share, you are obligated to get the word out. It will help others.

 

The Long Road

Let me put it this way. If you had walked a long road, navigating all of the road blocks, detours, set backs, land mines and pot holes and you knew a friend was about to walk along that same road, wouldn’t you give them a heads up?

Wouldn’t you being kind and good, alert them to the dangers that lay ahead? Or at the very least, out of some sense of common courtesy, wouldn’t you tell a passer by?

Of course you would.

What’s more, helping people travel safely would actually bring you some peace. Perhaps even joy. If you walked that long road and made it out alive, what would you gain from keeping the keys to overcoming the blocks a secret?

Unless you’re sick and gain pleasure from watching people fail and stumble, you would gain nothing from keeping this life saving knowledge to yourself.

Hear me. No amount of wisdom is too small to share.

Whether you’ve lived through hell or heaven, if you’re living the human experience you’ve known pain. And it’s that exact pain that’s made you strong and made you who you are. Maybe you’ve suffered for your art or for the love of a child or spouse.

Perhaps you’ve suffered for the love of all that is good and righteous and holy. Or maybe you’ve suffered for your health and the promise of a happy body.

Whatever the cause, I know this for certain:

We are all suffering for something.

You can disagree with me all you like. That’s fine. I’m OK with that. My personal experience has taught me that if you take 5 minutes to talk to anyone on the street, stranger or otherwise, you’ll find that at some point in their lifetime they’ve had a raw deal and a lot of pain. Now, that could be short lived or infrequent (Thank God) or that could be ongoing and (unfortunately) common. Either way, we’ve all got the t-shirt to prove we’ve been on the ride.

 

Rules For Story Telling

When you tell your story, which you inevitably must, predetermine that blaming anyone for your hurt is not an option.

Yes, our stories do intersect with the stories of others. Just because you share your story doesn’t mean you condemn the characters in it. If you can gracefully share your experiences without causing harm to others, than by all means do.

The twist?

You may leave out vital, life saving information. This may not be news to you, but the truth is many people live their lives in the shadow. They don’t tell their story for fear of being renounced. What’s worse is that many more haven’t even given voice to their story. It’s buried in the back rooms of the mind. And no one’s going back there, no way, no how.

I once heard this saying, “Hurt people, hurt people.” And that’s true. Think about that for a minute. It’s like a snake eating it’s tail; its a strange cycle. How do you break that?

We all have to take responsibility for our lives. Why? Because no one else is living you. No one else is living your life. You’re the only one who can do anything about it.

And the seed of doing is intention. The root of intention is owning your story. Own it, tell it, and move forward.

If you want to know where you’re going in life, you have to know where you come from. That’s the simple truth. Not so you can dwell there. Not so you can keep enabling yourself to live unchallenged, but so that you can chart an accurate course. Every good story has a beginning, middle, and end. Right now, most of us are in what I like to call the “messy middle”. In this mess a lot can happen. A lot of good and a lot of bad.

One of the best ways to avoid the mess from turning rogue is to tell that story of yours and let it shine. Get it out. Get it on the page. Tell a trusted friend. Whatever. Just get it out of your chest. It’s like if you’re lost on a road trip and you stop and ask for directions, what are you going to do?

Tell where you’re from. Then you find out where you are. Then you say where you hope to go. And then you get directions to your final destination.

 

It Ain’t All Bad

No one is powerful on their own.

Meaning we aren’t successful solely on our own merits. It usually requires the work of many, many people to refine a lad or lady.

Our stories will include the lives of others, so give credit where its due. Keep in mind that we are, as Brené Brown says, “…imperfect, wired for struggle, but worthy of love and belonging.”

Can I set the record straight?

Who here has perfect parents? Yours aren’t perfect. Mine weren’t perfect. And if you’re a parent (the verdict is in) you won’t be perfect either.

That’s OK!

That’s normal. That’s basically universal. Last week when I wrote my poem, I put a lot of people out on front street. Here’s the deal though. I assume that we’re all adults here and recognize that even though our parents aren’t perfect – they are still beautiful and gritty folks who did the best that they could with what they had at the time. And here’s what else they did. They loved you.

They loved you with their whole heart.

So when I wrote my story I assumed that you knew that whatever damaged is incurred during the rearing process is unchangeable. In many cases, it’s inevitable. What I mean is, you can’t go back and change what is. No, you have to forgive and moreover, you have to live and let live.

Own your story. But don’t let it own you.

 

The Forgiveness Paradox

Which is easier?

To forgive? Or, to seek payment on a debt that can never be repaid?

When we forgive, more than one person wins. When we seek repayment, only the person who gets what they’re owed wins. Two people winning is better than one. So it makes the most sense to forgive. Plus I’m pretty sure Rumi or Ghandi or one of those guys has a saying about holding on to un-forgiveness.

Who really gets hurt in the process of holding onto blame? You or them?

That’s why I can’t and won’t blame my parents. And you shouldn’t either.

The only way you’re gonna get free is if you realize you’re actually not owed anything. That took me a while to figure out. That’s life. People hurt you. Therefore, you will always be owed an apology or whatever thing you’re owed.

Seeking payment on debts is additive.

At what point do you get your fill? You catch my drift? The simplest and easiest way to freedom is to just wipe the slate clean with pretty much anyone who hurts you.

 

The Reward For Telling Your Story

There is beauty in telling your story. And what’s more is that we need to hear it. Too many of us live a false sense of security or scrutiny. In fact, just speaking with a client this week I heard the same lie being repeated:

“Everyone just seems like they’re not struggling, so I don’t want them to know that I am. What if they think I’m weak? What if they are too burdened by my problems?”

Pavlov’s dogs if you ask me.

Aren’t we going against our better judgement if we believe this lie? Haven’t we already established that everyone is struggling with something? So what’s the risk in going first?

What’s the risk in telling your story first, or in asking for help first? What’s the down side of saying, “Yeah, I’m actually not OK.”?

Well, the risk can be great. But the reward even greater. Truthfully, if you’ve ever looked around at all the other “adults” in the room and asked yourself, “Am I the only one who feels like life is hard right now?” then you need to go first. You’re a leader in sheep’s clothing.

Step out and be the first to admit that you need help. Then watch the shoulders in the room slump down as all that “fake it till you make it” breath is released.

By being risky, you’ve unknowingly flipped the “permission switch” ON. That’s just one reward. The other is community. Now you know for sure that you’re not alone. And as we established earlier, its only within the context of community that we find strength and confidence to live life.

The greatest gifts I receive are the stories from my friends and clients who, by seeing me step out, do their own stepping out. That’s the best reward. That’s what keeps me coming back to my work and to my story, however ugly it might be or might have been. So if you’re looking for a reward like this, then step up and step out.

Be that leader, who even in the clutches of doubt, decides to share their story and is all the better for it.

Tell me about your story. Who are you? Where are you from? What wisdom can you share with the world? I want to hear from you in the comments below.