You are not your story. And your story doesn’t define you.
Over the past few days, I've read hundreds of deeply personal stories of women - survivors - who have found the courage to share their story of sexual assault.
I feel it is my duty, as a woman, a sister, a truth seeker, a space holder, an empath, to witness their truth and hold their pain so they can rest for a moment from carrying around such a heavy burden.
What I have come to realize is this: We are not defined by our worst moments. We are not defined by what has happened to us. We are not defined by our reactions. We are not defined by our silence.
And we don't owe anyone our stories.
We are women filled with infinite paradoxes. We are warriors and caregivers. We access abundant love and boundless rage. We seek justice while questioning our own prejudices. We support all women and call out sisters with love. We demand to be heard and listen with presence.
We embrace the lessons of our ancestors and resist what history dictates as appropriate. We seek acceptance and live without permission. We speak up in the face of fear. We run towards danger to protect what is right.
We are yin and yang. Light and shadow. Grace and fury.
We are the story we choose to be.
You define your story.
Not society. Not history. Not family. Not clients. Not ego.
You choose when to share your story.
In your own time. On your own terms.
You are not your story. And your story doesn't define you.
I see you. I believe you. I love you.
P.S. If you have a story you want to share but don't feel safe in sharing it on social media, I will listen. I will sit with you and hear your truth. I will carry your pain for you. You are not alone. Your story matters. Release your shame, sister. There is nothing but love for you here.