That's All

It is no secret that I love the written word. I love stories. I love mystery and intrigue, drama and love stories. I love to get lost in the pages of a good book. I love when the stories and characters stick with me in such a way that I want to “introduce” them to other people. I love reading a great story, then loaning it to a friend and knowing they had the same experience I did. I love the reading aspect; the smell of the book, the texture of the pages, the crack of the spine. I love when I get to have a cup of coffee and a warm blanket and have nothing else in the world I need to be doing. But, moreover, I love learning someone’s story. I think that is why I find The Moth podcast so fascinating. This podcast is done in the form of story slams where real people get on stage and tell a true story from their life. Some are sad, some funny. Some are so hard to listen to, but I feel more human after hearing it. How else would I have heard a story of a woman who split her childhood between rural Alabama and gritty, inner-city Detroit, raised a pet pig in Alabama only to learn she ate him in Detroit. Why would I have ever heard the story of a man my age, finding out his elderly neighbor was none other than notorious bad guy, Boston crime boss, James “Whitey” Bulger, and aided in his capture? Under duress mind you, because “this man got me a Christmas present every year I lived next door to him and even got me a light for my bike so I wouldn’t get hurt riding in the dark.”

Every person has a story. We all have a sad story that would break your heart, a funny story that would leave you in stitches, and if we are one of the lucky ones, we have a love story written on our heart. There is no shame in sharing your story. One of my life’s regrets is that I had a dear friend ask me to help write her story. She had read the fiction book I wrote and always told me I had a way with words that she appreciated and envied. She had a story she felt needed to be shared. She fought a battle with addiction that she said her family never understood. They couldn’t fathom how this perfect, funny, charismatic, intelligent, creative woman could have a “problem”. She asked me to help her put her feelings into words, and her words onto paper. I whole heartedly agreed, but we never made the time to do it…and then it was too late. She died. She was gone and left a husband and three young children who may never fully understand what was in her mind and weighing on her heart. Don’t be afraid to tell your story. It doesn’t have to be eloquent. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Nothing in life ever is, and telling your story can bring you, or someone you know, much needed peace, hope, or levity. That is all, and that is so much.