Doesn’t Really Matter

1185156_10201738525407878_1441643318_nA couple of months ago, I had someone ask me if I would ever write about my traumatic experience in high school.

No doubt, I have definitely considered it, many times, in fact.  I have even made a few rough drafts.

I used to share my story with friends, co-workers, first dates, and pretty much anyone who would listen.

I had this compelling need to tell anyone and everyone.

For some reason, I felt like it defined me.

I also felt like people could see right through me, like they knew something was “wrong” with me, so I’d beat them to the punch and tell them how f***ed up I was.

Before, I shared my story for all of the wrong reasons.

Mainly, for attention, and not the good kind.

But, also as a test – Would they still be my friend or boyfriend knowing that I went through this?!

A year ago, I would have shared it, and it would have been to help others who are going through a rough time or similar experience.

But, admittedly, it would have also been for praise and attention…That unhealthy need to be recognized as an “inspiration” for overcoming such a tremendous obstacle…Honestly, complete bullsh**.

But…Every time I am about to share my story, there is something that holds me back.

That little voice inside that tells us, “No!”

Thank goodness I have listened to that voice!

Not that I don’t want to share my story, but when it comes right down to it, folks, my story doesn’t really matter.

Let me ask you this…

What if I told you that I was held at gunpoint in a bank, and had to watch someone die?

Or, what if I said that I got pregnant in high school and had to get an abortion?

How about if my story was that my uncle molested me one night while my parents were out to dinner?

Or, let’s say that I was beat up by a group of girls in the gym locker room and was in the hospital for a week?

What about if I was in the Marines and had to leave my dead friends behind on the battlefield?

Let’s even go out on a limb, and say that I was tugged back and forth through my parents ugly divorce.

None of these are true…However, I bet you had very different reactions to all of them, and maybe even thought differently of me.

Don’t deny it.

We all do it.  We are human.

Held at gunpoint and watching someone die would be a horrible experience, and I’m sure many of you empathized for me.

Getting pregnant in high school and getting an abortion.  How many of you judged me?!  Judged my parents?!  How many of you thought less of me?  How many of you made religious judgments on me?  Did any of you feel any empathy at all for that one?!

An uncle molesting me – How many of you pitied me?!

Getting beat up in the locker room – How many of you thought, “That sucks, but that’s not traumatic.”

Being a Marine – How many of you glorified me?

My parents going through an ugly divorce – How many of you said, “Sh**, my parents did the same thing,” or, “That’s so common nowadays.”

So, my point is – People often think differently of you when they hear your story.  

It’s really unfortunate.

And, most often, it is not intentional or ill-willed.  It’s a learned behavior.

But, the truth remains, and as a whole, I do not want what happened to me back then to interfere with what I want to do now.

And, I definitely do not want or need people to pity me, nor talk about what an “inspiration” I am.

Can I be blunt for just a moment?

I really hate the word “inspiration.”  It’s so meaningless today.  And, often times, really patronizing!

So, let’s just stop using that word.  Please.

Sh** happens.  What you do with that sh** is what is important, though.  You can either sit it in, throw it at people, push it into the corner, cover it up with stuff, or, you can clean it up and throw it away.

Whatever my story is, it doesn’t change the fact that I have overcome it, and have been evolving into a better person.  It doesn’t change the fact that I live to make a positive change.  It doesn’t change the fact that I love people and the world.  It doesn’t change the fact that I am a good person.

If you ask me in person, sure, I’ll talk to you about it.  But, please ask me for the right reasons.  I have no problem talking about it, but not to fill your own need to gossip or pity others, or even to feel better about yourself for a brief moment.

My stories are accessible to everyone, but all that I ask in return is respect.

10928047_10205580519455328_527607395_nSo, what’s my story?

It’s still being written…  😉