“Write a story that will save your life. If it saves yours, it will probably save someone else’s.” – Sophie Strand.

We all have stories. Some of these stories are short, some are a couple of chapters long , and some are sweeping epic sagas. Our stories are a diverse web of our experiences, feelings, perspectives, history, cultural narratives, etc. Our stories are ever changing and ever growing, just as we are. We all have stories we often share. These are usually the stories that make people laugh, the stories we feel good about, the stories that fit into the cultural narrative of what it means to be a successful, productive, resilient, and put together human. We don’t often share the stories that bring about shame, grief, anger, trauma, etc. We tend to keep those stories from seeing the light of day.

Recently I had the opportunity to take a trip down memory lane and head back to a local rehabilitation hospital whose Post Covid program was instrumental in getting me on the path to understanding what in the actual hell was happening to my body. I’m still on the path of trying to figure out what in the actual hell is happening to my body as it’s a long and winding path, but they supplied with incredibly helpful information. I vividly remember the 2 days of testing I had done as part of this program and the fear that coursed through my body when I was taking a neuropsychology test and the neuropsychologist told me “You have a mild-moderate memory impairment similar to someone with a mild Traumatic Brian Injury.” It was one of many moments where I was certain someone had smacked me with an invisible 2×4. I’ve learned how to take 2×4’s to the gut pretty well on this journey.. there may be a future for me in WWE wrestling.

For months, I went to this program 3 days a week to receive occupational, physical, and speech therapy. 2 weeks ago I got to walk back in the building as a presenter for their Post Covid Support group. It was a full circle moment and I was nervous. Like palm sweating, stomach rolling, kind of nervous. Nervous to share my story with people who are living a similar story. Nervous that nothing I would say would resonate with the members of the group. Nervous that people would leave feeling worse than they walked in the room. While everyone attending the support group has Long Covid or Post Covid Syndrome I have always said, “If you know one person with Long Covid, you know one person with Long Covid,” Everyone’s experiences, symptoms, journey with the illness, etc are different. Everyone’s story is different and on the drive there I felt like “What’s so special about my story? So I use nature, meditation techniques, and grounding to help me on my journey. Big Whoop. I’m still sick and still not back to where I was. As you can tell, I was really pepping myself up with some very kind thoughts. I am quite the cheerleader for myself!

As I was sharing my story I realized what is unique about my story is that I admit I don’t have all the answers. I have days I can’t get out of bed, and I have days where I say “Fuck this and Fuck Long Covid.” I have days I grieve and yearn for my old life so deeply that it gets in the way of me getting things done. I have days where I don’t do my daily routines because I’m over having to spend 2 hours every morning and night doing exercises and treatments to try to feel halfway human. I accept and freely share the very raw and human moments of my story. I feel like when we do that we allow others to feel safe enough to share the very raw and human moments of their own story. I realized as I was talking that was my purpose that day.. to be human and to share the humanness of my journey and wouldn’t you know suddenly the nerves went away. Yes, I was scheduled to talk about how I’ve used nature on my healing journey and yes, I was hoping to inspire others in the room to try to incorporate those techniques in their own healing journey. But my real purpose that day was to create a safe space for people to open up and share. To be there to say “I get it. I understand. I’ve felt that way too. You won’t always feel this way.”

I don’t know if anyone in that room left excited about doing a grounding meditation or anyone rushed out that afternoon to sit by a tree and soak up its energy and wisdom. Yes. tress have energy and wisdom. I realize that might be a little woo woo for some of you, but they do. We just haven’t been taught how to connect with either one. Anyway, I digress. What I do hope is the people in that room felt for the 60 minutes I was there like they were seen and they were heard. I hope they felt like their stories mattered. I hope they left knowing that on the days when it seems hard to put one foot in front of the other, that they aren’t alone.

We all have stories and as the quote that started this blog says telling your story may just save someone else’s life. You may give them hope on a day when their last bit of hope was fleeting. You may make them feel heard and seen in ways they never have before. You never know the impact your story will have, so tell it. Tell all of it.. every raw, messy, beautiful human part of it. Don’t sugar coat it to make it easier for others to hear. Don’t dress it up. Don’t doubt it’s worthiness. Tell all of it.. the world needs more stories of what being human looks like and means.