On owning our hardest stories

Why telling the truth is the most terrifying and liberating thing in the world

Sometimes, meeting someone shifts something inside you. Opens a door. Makes you reflect in ways you didn’t expect.

Over the weekend, I attended a somatic workshop. My first, actually, since becoming a mother. And in that room, I met some truly incredible women. One of them stood out. She was the brightest, most joyful person in the room. The kind of presence that just draws you in.

Only later did I learn her story. I won’t share the details, out of respect for her privacy. But it was one of the hardest stories I’ve ever heard. And what shook me wasn’t just the story, it was the way she carried it. With lightness. With no bitterness. With an evolved understanding that made me almost cry watching her speak.

It made me realize something I’ve been circling around for a long time:

We are not defined by the worst things that have happened to us.
But we do have to own them to become free of them.

Photo by Anthony Tran on Unsplash

And that’s where I’ve been stuck.

Because for me, it’s easier to share things with strangers than it is to sit across from my own family and say the truth out loud. I don’t fully know why. Maybe because the stakes feel so much higher. Maybe because of the fear of being judged. Of being misunderstood. Of becoming too much. Or of watching my relationships shift in ways I can’t control.

No one prepares you for what it means to own the hardest parts of your life. No one tells you how to navigate that line between forgiveness and truth. No one teaches you how to say:
“This happened to me. But it’s not the whole of me.”

But I know one thing for sure: vulnerability has changed everything for me. It has helped me grow more than any course or book or conversation before.

Even when it’s messy, or scary or uncomfortable.

These days, I’m trying to practice vulnerability more and more:

• I write without knowing what will land, trusting that if it feels honest, it’s worth sharing.

• I post on Instagram without polish, without strategy, even though I work in social media by day and know that many might judge me for not doing better.

• I talk about burnout and mental health at work, even if it feels uncomfortable or unprofessional, because it’s the truth and I’m tired of pretending.

• I share my writing with colleagues, not because I’m promoting anything, but because it helps them know me better, and somehow, it’s deepened those relationships.

• I’ve started to be more open with my husband too. About what I need, what I can’t do, what feels too heavy… and even though it’s not always easy, it’s helped us find more ease.

• At home, I’ve been clearer about my capacity, and that’s let me ask for the kind of support I really need, especially with Kai.

• Whether it’s hormonal shifts, mental health, or just needing rest… I’m learning not to hide that anymore. All of it has come from a place of owning more and more of my truth.

But now, I stand at a precipice… the line between being vulnerable in small, daily ways... and owning the big story. The hardest one. The one that shaped me, but that I no longer want to hide.

And it terrifies me.

But I also know:
That’s where my next transformation lies.