Your Stories Are Dying With You (And That's a Tragedy)

The Truth About the Stories We Keep Buried

She had this magnetic energy that could light up the darkest rooms. When she walked into the hospital, even the most cynical among us couldn't help but smile. She was the kind of person who made you believe in human goodness again.

I was practicing part-time at a rural, free-standing ER. She was one of the full-time nurses. She'd seen some of my writing and mentioned she wanted to start sharing her own stories. "I have so much to say," she told me over some shitty ultra-processed carbs one Tuesday morning.

Shortly after, I quit that job. Life scattered us in different directions.

We stayed in touch sporadically. But 18 months later, I learned her old enemy had returned. Cancer. She fought it with everything she had, the same fierce determination she brought to everything else.

But as it turns out, cancer doesn't care about your light.

She died before she ever wrote a single word.

All that wisdom, every personal story and patient encounter, all that perspective that could have helped someone else navigate their own darkness… gone.

When I search her name online, there's nothing.

No digital footprint of her thoughts, no record of the lessons she learned, no trace of the beautiful mind that touched so many lives.

I'm telling you this because too many of us are making the same mistake. We're sitting on stories that could change lives- ours and others'- and instead of sharing we're letting them die with us.

The Myth That Your Story Doesn't Matter

Here's what society tells us: Your story only matters if it's extraordinary. If you haven't climbed Everest, survived a plane crash, or built a billion-dollar company, who wants to hear from you?

This is complete bullshit.

The stories that actually move people aren't the ones on TED stages or in Hollywood movies. They're the quiet ones. The messy ones. The achingly human ones that make someone reading at 2am feel less alone in the world.

Your story about learning to love yourself after divorce? Someone needs that.

Your experience with anxiety in a world that demands perfection? Someone is drowning in that exact struggle right now.

Your journey through grief, addiction, career change, or simply learning to set boundaries? These aren't small stories. To many, they're lifelines.

The Stories That Change Everything

I've been writing online for 3 years now.

Not because I'm special or particularly talented, but because I refuse to let my experiences die with me. Because I needed (and need) connection.

Some of those stories have genuinely changed my life- not because they were perfect, but because they were real. They led to relationships, personal growth and business transactions that upended my life - in a crazy good way.

The common thread? Vulnerability.

Every story that created genuine connection was one I almost didn't publish. The ones that made me sweat before hitting "send." The ones that made me question whether I was sharing too much, being too raw, too honest.

Those are exactly the stories people remember.

When you share the stuff that scares you, something magical happens. People recognize their own struggles in your words. They realize they're not broken, they're not alone, they're just human.

Take someone like Glennon Doyle, who built an empire by admitting she was struggling. Or Brené Brown, whose career exploded when she talked about shame and vulnerability.

They didn't succeed despite their struggles - they succeeded because they were brave enough to name them.

The Personal Brand Trap (And How to Avoid It)

Here's where most people get it wrong: they think storytelling is about building a "personal brand."

F*ck your personal brand.

Stories shared for the purpose of making yourself look good feel hollow. People can smell the self-promotion from miles away, and they run.

Real storytelling isn't about you- it's about using your experience to serve others. It's about taking your pain and transforming it into medicine for strangers.

When you shift from "look at me" to "maybe this will help you," everything changes.

Why We Stay Silent

Fear, mostly.

We're terrified of judgment, of being “too much,” of giving people ammunition to use against us. We've been conditioned to believe that vulnerability equals weakness.

But here's what I've learned: the people who judge you for sharing your truth aren't your people. The ones who matter will see your courage and be inspired by it.

We also think we need credentials to speak. Like we need a PhD or an MD in suffering before we're qualified to share what we've learned. This is another lie designed to keep us small.

Your experience is your expertise. Full stop.

Writing as Revolution

When you write your stories, you're not just preserving memories- you're processing trauma, finding meaning in chaos, and transforming pain into purpose.

It's free therapy and personal healing that doubles as service to humanity.

Every time you put words to your experience, you're joining dots that seemed random when you were living them. You're finding the thread that connects your struggles to your strength.

And when you share those words? You're giving someone else permission to feel, to heal, to speak their own truth.

Refuse To Be Silenced

This is why initiatives like the Red Flag Writing Collective matter so much to me. Because storytelling isn't just creative expression- it's resistance against a world that wants to keep us isolated in our struggles.

We are purposefully creating a space for the stories society doesn't want to hear. The messy ones. The uncomfortable ones. The ones that challenge the status quo and refuse to be sanitized for mass consumption.

Those same stories are exactly the ones that will change your life. They attract more alignment in your personal relationships, and your professional ones. They challenge you to be the best version of yourself.

The people joining us know what I know: your story matters. Not despite its imperfections, but because of them.

Your Stories Are Waiting

Right now, you have stories inside you that someone desperately needs to hear. Maybe it's about the mistake that taught you everything. Maybe it's about the day you chose yourself. Maybe it's about learning to find joy in the wreckage.

Whatever it is, don't let it die with you.

Start small if you need to. Share with a group before you share with the world.

But start.

Because somewhere out there, in the vast loneliness of the internet, someone is searching for exactly what you have to offer. Someone who needs to know they're not the only one who's been where you've been.

Your story could be the thing that saves them.

Don't let it die with you.

Don’t let it rob you of the life you could have or the life you could inspire in someone else.

Until next time,

Tiffany

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