Allow me to be the voice of the unspoken brilliance of you.
I wrote this for you. Say it out loud, stand tall, and repeat after me:
“At some point, I’ve started something new.
Some of these somethings might be shiny, sparkly and spectacular.
Others things are overlooked, like the quietly significant new venture I begin each time I press “stop” on my alarm instead of “snooze.” Each new day, I choose to fill my pages with my own pen. Day after day, I choose to start again.
I am sum of these daily, silent start-ups.
I am made of new chapters, just waiting to be read; just waiting for someone to flip through me and trace a storyline from my struggles, and maybe, in that, construct a lifeline for themselves.
I owe it to the world to find a vessel for my stories. I am the hand that holds the pen that can write, draw, scribble, and scrawl. I can do it all. I can choose to do it all.
The best things in life are free. And for my story to be free, it must be told. After all, a trapped story is a secret.
And my brilliance should not be a secret.
You and me. We can share this story; it’s called empathy. All I have to do is set mine free.”
With this, I give you permission to share. This is not motivation. This is your new battlecry.
No one’s stories are better than yours. In fact, your disregarded story is probably another man’s lifeline out of the unknown depths of solitude.
Motivational quotes are cute, but they are much different that stories; stories are personal. Motivation is hypothetical.
“Follow your dreams,” they cheer. “Do something you love and you’ll never work a day in your life,” they promise. “They.” Who is this omnipotent “they,” anyway? Pinterest? Influencers? The internet? What about real, live people? What about real life?
Real life is you. Your stories are what are real; your experience is the data we all desperately need.
While the pep and encouragement are dandy in-theory on on-Instagram, they are merely a soundtrack. The real battlecry is your voice. Your experience. Your story.
So, share it.