What is my story?

 "Writing is a truth serum, one that is not always easy to drink. This is why people often choose to remain 'one day I will write' seekers- they can avoid the actual moment when they find what they are looking for. Because speaking our truths requires us to deal with many different challenges, including our discomfort with vulnerability, our fear of failure, the very real consequences of finally speaking our truths. Writing, like any form of revealing self-expression, calls us to the next stages of awakening. It's seldom just pen to paper. It's far bloodier than that. It changes our lives. It calls us to grow. It transforms our consciousness. No wonder we retreat. No wonder we can't stop..." ~ Jeff Brown

While taking a step back from the goal of publishing, and pondering what exactly I want to say, I've had to ask "What is my story?". For a long time I thought it was my Evangelical upbringing and the way it fucks with your head even after you are out of it. I knew the horrors that occurred after my parents divorce would make for sordid reading. There is something I've alluded to but haven't shared which was my shame in my marriage, where I felt the embarrassment would kill me were I to let everyone know, but I felt it my duty to reveal it and help someone else. As I deliberated this with a friend she said, "I don't think that's your story." It's not? Well what is my story?

A new friend posted part of his story in a private group I'm in and gave me permission to share it. He talked about how Evangelical purity culture deeply damages so many and bravely shared what it did to him. This is what I aspire to. And though I'm mostly (sort of) beyond a lot of the shame, I can't get over that I'll be perceived in a way I can't control. So many times I'll post a piece and see a comment that for me is completely out of left field, and I think "How in hell did they get that from what I wrote?!". Yet how often in life has someone said to you, "Oh I get it!" and you think "Oh no you don't!". It's in bringing up Evangelical culture where I find that most people in an attempt to connect say they understand when you can't unless you've lived it. I remind myself frequently of a favorite quote, "I stopped explaining myself when I realized other people only understand from their level of perception." 

I'm also asking if this story, whatever I tell and wherever it goes, is worthy of sharing? Another middle aged woman talks about a ton of sad shit. Boo hoo hoo. Is this even needed? I believe it is. Doubtful that it would be a New York Times best seller, or even published, but I know without a doubt that someone needs to hear it. I know to the core of my being there is another soul that needs to know they weren't the only one. I feel with all of me there is someone pleading to a silent deity for another to show them some light. 

I say these things to let them out of me where they fester and try to take me down. I reveal my secrets, my insecurities, and my terror, as this is my therapy. I bleed all over the page to lessen the pain for a moment. I want my life to have purpose, and if that purpose is nothing more than to extend a hand on the journey with my words then that is enough to go on.