When I publish my memoir, I will be exposing a part of me. It would be easier if I could guarantee that none of my friends and family would read it, but that isn’t realistic. I am flattered that they even want to read it, but I am also afraid of being judged because of my past. It’s a chance I have to take.
Dear Abby once said, “We wouldn’t worry so much about what people thought of us if we realized how seldom they did.” This sounds logical and it should help put me at ease. But it doesn’t. Now that I think about it, I realize that I don’t spend very much time thinking about other people. They flit in and out of my mind throughout the day and I do briefly focus on each of my family and friends every night when I do my gratitude ritual. But other than that, I don’t dwell on any single one of them. So why do I think someone is going to focus their attention on me? And so what if they do?
In a world where bad things happen, I believe it is important that those of us who have overcome obstacles should share our stories and our support. Those of us that have a positive way of looking at our situations have an obligation to let others peer through our eyes. They don’t have to accept what we have to say, nor do they even have to listen. But I will give them the opportunity to see the world of my past. And I will not leave them there; I will show them how I left that world behind me and how I became a better person for having lived there.
As I continue to put the ugly, naked truth on the page, I see myself standing there next to my words. I am naked. I am exposed. But I am alive. And that is why I must tell my story.
