I was down. Something happened. But I got up. And I’m still rising.
I bet you know exactly how that feels.
This life is not easy for any of us. Every person has troubles about which you know nothing. Every person. Every life.
Even those folks about whom you think you know everything: your mom or dad or spouse or kids or friends. They have scars and fears buried deep in their hearts, their souls, their minds. Bruises that no one can see but them. They hurt, even if they never whisper a word about it.
It’s true. Not something to be sad or depressed about, just something to be acknowledged. We all have these stories that we hide in our solitude.
But here’s the good part: the more we share our stories, the less alone we all are. The more we share our stories, the less we have to hurt. The more we share our stories, the more we can learn. Because by listening to what has happened to you, I can begin to understand that which has happened to me.
This lesson is not new — novels, movies, gyms, bars, support groups, blogs, campfire chats, and countless other things — all are different ways of putting yourself in the path of someone else’s experience and thus coming closer to understanding your own. And, importantly, like Margaret Wheatley says: “Listening creates a relationship. We move closer to one another.”
Life is dirty and wonderful and confusing and fabulous and frustrating and exhilarating and long and short and over far too soon for everyone, no matter how many breaths they draw. But we’re all here right now.
Chin up. Eyes forward. Tell your story. And listen when others tell theirs. This is how we do it.