Why Do I Share?
During my teenage years, I spent many, many months in an adolescent psychiatric facility, grappling with the aftermath of a traumatic experience. I was coping with selective mutism, unable to express my pain through words. It was there, in the depths of my silence, that I met Brenda—an angel who became a pivotal figure in my life. Brenda held me when I felt untouchable, comforted me when I was inconsolable, and reminded me that I was loved, even in my darkest moments. She told me that one day, I would speak. She believed that my voice would carry words of wisdom, intention, and purpose. Brenda’s faith in me planted a seed of hope I carried with me for years.
She often said I would share my journey with the world, and that my story would resonate with others, reminding them they are not alone. For the vast majority of my life, however, I kept my writing under lock and key, perhaps as a form of self-preservation. My words felt too raw, too personal, to be exposed to the world.
But over the past year, something has shifted. I have shed more than 100 pounds, both physically and emotionally. The weight of my past—the harm inflicted upon me as a child—began to lift as those who hurt me passed away. Their deaths brought an unexpected sense of freedom, a release from the chains of fear and pain that had bound me for so long. For the first time, I felt truly able to share my words.
Brenda’s voice echoes in my heart as I write now. She was right: my story has purpose. By sharing my experiences, I hope to connect with others, to let them know they are not alone in their struggles. Writing is no longer just a private act of survival for me; it is a bridge to others, a way to offer comfort and understanding.
Why do I share? I share because I believe in the power of connection. I share because I have found my voice, and I no longer want to hide it. I share because Brenda saw something in me that I am finally able to see in myself—a story worth telling, a light worth shining, and a legacy worth building.
