Crack Open Your Sternum

The story you're afraid to share might be the very one someone desperately needs to hear.

We often hide our struggles, as if we're afraid of being seen as weak, but it takes true strength to crack open your sternum and bare your heart.

When I was 17, I learned a friend of mine was practicing self-harm. I knew what that was like, what it felt like to burn myself for the blister, to prick myself to see the bubble of blood, freed.

I'd been to a place where I was battered by thoughts that came from the darkest reaches of the cosmos when I was too young to really understand the darkness. Though I danced along the event horizon, I never stepped into the black hole. Instead, I grabbed ahold of a creativity comet and rode it back to Earth, fire and all.

It was music that saved me, music and lyrics, and the poetic marriage of writing and melody that re-ignited my inner fire. But my friend hadn’t been so lucky; she hadn’t found her comet. Instead, she wanted to step into the black hole, lose herself to the gravitational pull of harm. So, I did something I never thought I'd do in a million years and organized a suicide-prevention event at my high school.

It was not easy.

I described my experiences with early childhood sexual abuse. I talked about the return of memories that had once been repressed. I told of the persistent memory hole left behind even after starting to heal. (Even today, there’s a solid period of my life of which I have no memories.)

By sharing my story with my friends and classmates, they saw that they weren't alone, that we were all dealing with some really heavy shit, circumstances and realities that pressed down on our shoulders like the world pressed down on Atlas. Some of us were being crushed under the weight, but when we banded together, we found the load was just a little bit lighter.

After that event, I heard from many classmates, some of whom I'd barely spoken to before. Though I was nervous about what people would have to say, what they might think of me, I found that my story had been positive.

Through sharing, I had validated their experiences, created safe and open connections, inspired courage toward change, and broken stigmas. It was a lot. I was only 17, after all, and I didn't know how much my story mattered until I shared it.

Your story matters, too, a lot more than you know.

You've overcome debilitating fear. Someone out there needs to hear it.

You clawed your way back from rock bottom. Someone out there needs to know it's possible for them to do the same.

So, take that first step. Write down your story, and share it. You might just change someone's life.

♥ Fal