Don’t be ashamed of your story; it will inspire others.
-Anonymous
My past. I don’t face it in a straightforward way. I typically skim over it, but I don’t share details with others.
I use it as a peripheral example, only sharing vague hints of the whole story, of a child who has seen some tough stuff, but I don’t want people to know the whole truth. I moved a lot as a kid, and I never felt like I put roots anywhere. I am extremely disconnected about places I’ve lived growing up. I am ambivalent about people. I have tremendous conflict about really letting people in. I want to, but I’m afraid. I was taught growing up that people have an outstanding propensity to cause an inordinate amount of pain both physically and emotionally. What got me through growing up and probably saved me was my innate ability to disconnect from everything - which is also what I struggle with now.
I started a blog in October, 2011 as a voice about my life as an athlete and as a working mom of a huge family. I wanted to write about finding balance, dealing with struggles, being a runner and minimalist. I started writing in the hopes that something I had to say would make a difference in someone else’s life. We can have an enormous impact when sharing our daily lives with others. I haven’t written this book until now because I didn’t want to hurt my mother, since she’s still alive. I guess saying that is not a lie–I don’t want to hurt her–but I’m protecting myself more than I’m protecting her. I’m protecting my kids as well. The thought of them looking at me differently after knowing what I’ve been through terrifies me. I’ve grown to believe that protection lie, though.
It’s become quite a shield of righteousness in my life, and it’s hard to let it go. It’s a much prettier package than the truth. The truth is I am afraid. I share my story because even if I don’t get to know you personally, I can be raw and vulnerable and share myself.
I share it all. From the young frightened child, the confused adolescent, the young adult to now, I have gotten better at connecting with people. I guard myself closely. I don’t let people in easily, but those that I truly love, I love with everything I am. I’m outgoing and happy and people often think they know me better than they really do. I am warm and genuine, but I’ve always only allowed people to see what I’m comfortable with them seeing.
I feel regret in failed relationships, but I know my piece of that is my distance, and the rest lies with the emotionally unavailable people I chose to be in a relationship with. It’s easy to be hurt less if you don’t allow yourself to feel vulnerable. I knew I couldn’t have a healthy relationship without completely letting my walls down, so finally I did. And it’s scary as hell pretty often. It’s also the best thing I’ve ever done.
In Daring Greatly , author Brené Brown shares, “We either own our stories (even the messy ones), or we stand outside of them–denying our vulnerabilities and imperfections, orphaning the parts of us that don’t fit in with who/what we think we’re supposed to be, and hustling for other people’s approval of our worthiness. Let’s use our stories (even the messy ones) to help each other. Think about the defining moments (big and small) in your life, and share them. The stories you share will inspire others, give them hope, and help people connect with you in ways you can’t imagine.”
And so here I am baring it all. My hope is that my story – not better than anyone else’s, but one that now has a voice – will help whoever you are, wherever you are. I hope that we can bond together through our trials, support and love each other, and become better. Full, more complete. Let’s put together this puzzle we call life, heal, and become the best versions of ourselves possible.