This Was Never Just About Me

I've spent a crazy amount of time trying to figure out how to tell my story.

For 5 years, I thought I was trying to write a book. I have so many pages of memories, thoughts, and stories I've spent most of my life trying to make sense of. Some of it was easy to write. Some of it was incredibly hard. And some of it I would sit down to write and realize I didn't even know where to begin.

How do I put a lifetime of hurt into words? How do I explain things that I still don't completely understand? How do I tell a story when there are so many pieces missing? And the hardest question of all...

How do I take something that caused me so much pain and turn it into something good?

I don't have the answers to any of those questions. I'm not sure I ever will. But here's what I do know.... I don't want everything I've been through to be for nothing.

I know that God didn't cause things to happen to me and I absolutely believe He can use them for His glory. I believe He can take the broken pieces of our lives, the things we wish we could forget, the things that changed us in ways we never asked for, and somehow use them for something beautiful.

That doesn't mean the hurt suddenly makes sense. It doesn't mean everything gets wrapped up in a pretty little bow and we live happily ever after. I wish healing worked that way! But it doesn't. Healing is messy. It's uncomfortable. Sometimes it's taking three steps forward and then ten steps back. Sometimes it's crying over something you thought you dealt with years ago and sometimes healing looks like finally being able to talk about something that once completely broke you just to think about.

When I started writing my book, I thought that was how I was supposed to share my story. I thought if I could just get it all down on paper, organize the memories, and find the right words, maybe it would all come together. But it was so much harder than I thought it would be. I would write, stop, rewrite, walk away for months and eventually come back to it. I wanted so badly to finish it, but something just wasn't coming together the way I had imagined.

Then, out of nowhere, the idea of starting a podcast came up. A podcast.... Me... The person who spent so many years keeping things to herself (and doesn't even like listening to podcasts) was suddenly considering putting her voice out into the world for anyone to hear.

If that isn't God having a sense of humor, I don't know what is.

But here's the problem, I'm scared for people who know me to hear everything. Having strangers hear my story, that's the easy part. I'm scared of my family reading my blog. I'm scared of them listening to my podcast. I'm scared of what they'll think, what they'll say, and how they'll react. 

This is so frustrating because here I am, a grown woman in my 40s, married, raising my own family, living a life that I've worked really hard to find peace in... and there's still a part of me that's afraid of what certain people might think about what I have to say. Sometimes I wonder if they'll accuse me of lying. Or exaggerating. Or remembering things wrong. Sometimes I wonder if they'll say I'm just trying to make them look bad because I can't let it go or move on.

I spent so much of my young life learning what not to say. What not to question. What things we didn't talk about. What happened when a certain someone got mad. I learned to keep the peace, even when keeping the peace meant keeping my mouth shut. Those habits didn't die just because I grew up, but now sometimes I catch myself wanting to explain every little detail, defend every memory, and make sure nobody can possibly misunderstand what I'm saying.

I've spent enough of my life doing that.

My truth is that I don't have every memory and I don’t have all sides of every story. But I do have my experiences. My memories. My feelings. The way those experiences shaped the person I became... And I have a right to talk about those things.

I'm not starting a podcast to punish anyone. I'm not writing about my childhood because I want revenge. I'm not sharing these things because I want people to choose sides. I'm sharing them because I know what it's like to carry things in silence and I know I'm not the only one.

For way too long I thought keeping quiet was the same thing as keeping the peace. But the only person who benefits from your silence is the person who doesn't want the truth talked about. That doesn't mean every detail of my life needs to be shared publicly. There are things I will probably always keep private. (And that's okay, too.) But I don't want fear to be the reason I stop telling my story. I don't want to spend the rest of my life worrying about how someone else might react to something I lived through.

Maybe that's another part of healing that I hadn't really thought about until now... Learning that I can be afraid and still do something anyway. That I can be nervous about someone's reaction without making myself responsible for it. That I can tell my story with honesty and compassion without needing everyone to agree with me.

I know that somewhere out there is someone who is still afraid to speak. Someone who still feels like they need permission to acknowledge what happened to them. And if being brave enough to share a little of my own story helps that person find their voice, then I wanna try.

Even if my voice shakes.

Courage isn't finally reaching a place where you're no longer afraid, it's reaching a place where fear no longer makes your decisions. I’m starting something I never imagined I would do. I’m talking about things I never thought I would talk about publicly, and hoping that somewhere along the way it reaches the person who needs to hear it.

That's really what this is about. Not about getting attention. It's not about having some incredible story to tell. It's about the person who grew up believing that what happened to them was normal. The person who still struggles with memories they can't quite piece together. The person who feels guilty for setting boundaries. The person who has walked away from toxic relationships and still wonders if they made the right decision. The person who loves God but sometimes struggles to understand why He allowed certain things to happen. The person who is doing everything they can to make sure their children never have to heal from the same things they did. And the person who is just tired of carrying things they never should’ve had to carry in the first place.

I want those people to know that healing is possible! You won’t forget everything that’s happened and you won’t get answers to all your questions but you will find peace.

Peace through God’s grace is the best feeling!

I am still learning. Still growing. Still occasionally finding myself triggered by things I thought I had moved past but I'm not where I used to be and that matters so much.

Maybe the book will get finished someday. I don’t know... There's still a part of me that wants to hold those pages in my hands and know that I finally did it. Maybe all those hours of writing, remembering, crying, and trying to find the right words were preparing me for something I couldn't see yet. Maybe the podcast is just another step in a journey that God has been guiding all along. Maybe everything I've spent years trying to understand can become something that helps someone else feel understood.

I can't change my childhood. I can't go back and protect the little girl I used to be, but I can choose what I do with my story now. But can speak about the things that were kept quiet. I can create a home where my children don't have to question whether they're loved. I can break patterns that existed long before I did. And I can remind someone else that they can do those things, too.

Your story doesn't have to end where your trauma began. You are allowed to heal. You are allowed to grow. You are allowed to create a life that looks completely different from the one you were raised in and you don't have to have it all figured out before you start.

Whether this little podcast reaches ten people or ten thousand, my prayer is the same. That someone hears something they needed to hear. That someone feels a little less alone. That someone finds the courage to take one small step toward healing. 

So go tell your story... I am.