Be True to Yourself

As you may or may not know, I am working on a new project.  After my epiphany (I have way too many, way too often), I realized what I wanted to do more than anything was to be a story teller. A teller of human interst stories.  I love to read about people, to learn about them, to figure out what makes them tick.  Had I been a better student and could actually have afforded school, I would have been an amazing phych something (insert some initials after my name here).

Everything about us is because of something else.  We simply would not exist if we haven't had experienced. Everyone comes from somewhere.  Sometimes its a great place, sometimes its horrific.  Be we all come from somewhere. All those somewheres create who we are right now. Even what you did mundanley ten mimnutes ago shaped who you are right now.  Every breath, everything we eat or drink, each time we use any of our senses. 

Most of our daily movements go unnoticed.  Its only those that create memory that have power, both good and bad, over us.  If we fail to remember, we fail to be effected.  Or so our brain would like to fool us into thinking. We have an uncanny ability to forget things. Especially when they are painful.  And those painful things we cannot forget, we tend to blame for hanging around making us miserable. 

All of these things we experience, whether we remeber them or not, create our story.

Since beginning this project, I have had the honor of reading and writing some very powerful stories.  It was a leap of faith for people to share such intimate details with someone they dont even know.  With nothing other than a promise to tell their story and a hope that it lifts some emotional burden, my mailbox filled with a chance for the opportunity. It was quite humbling.

One parrticular person that found their way to my mailbox was someone I knew over 25 years ago.  We were not friends, but we shared the same small high school.  The last time I saw her was probably 1986, so this is how I pictured her in my head.  And as I read her words I saw that young girl. I could so easily place her in the story.  I felt bad. Bad for what she was going through, but worse because I was going through so much then too.  I felt bad that we didnt know each other.  That we werent able to share with our peers.  That we probably would have been friends if only we had been honest with ourselves.  We shared some very similar experiences that shaped who we have become.  And yet not once would I have ever thought that she was feeling what I was feeling.

I suppose my point of this ramble is that we need to teach people that you can find friends and support in the most unlikely of places.  That we really have no idea what is happening inside someone else and they have no idea what's going on inside you.  It's not the clothes or the circle you associate with that makes you who you are. It is OK to step outside that box and open yourself up. You just need to be true to who you are and tell your story.