There’s a moment that happens when you finally decide to tell the truth about your life. Not the polished truth. Not the “I’m fine” truth. The real truth. The one you carried quietly because you did not know if people would understand it, judge it, misuse it, or dismiss it.
When I wrote Oakland Hills, Milwaukee Rivers: A Memoir of Survival, Identity, and Purpose, I learned something about storytelling that I did not fully understand before. Writing a book is not just producing pages. It is choosing to stop hiding. It is choosing to name what happened. It is choosing to take ownership of your narrative so life does not keep defining you by your hardest seasons.
And when you do that, something shifts.
The power of telling our story as humans
We are meaning-makers. We live through things that do not make sense while we are in them, and then we spend years trying to explain them to ourselves afterward. That is what a story does. It gives shape to the chaos. It puts language to what was once only emotion. It helps you connect the dots between what you survived and who you became.
That is why storytelling is not a hobby for a few people. It is a human need.
Some of us were taught to keep family business in the family. Some of us were taught to stay silent because “everybody goes through something.” Some of us learned early that vulnerability could be used against us, so we got good at smiling while bleeding on the inside.
I know that life. I lived that life.
Writing my story forced me to sit with moments I used to rush past. It made me slow down and admit what hurt, what shaped me, what I did not understand, and what I was still grieving. It also reminded me that I was not just a person who survived. I was a person who learned. A person who endured. A person who kept going when it would have been easier to shut down.
That is what happens when you tell your story with intention. You do not just revisit the past. You reclaim it.
What I learned from conversations after the book
Here’s what surprised me most after OHMR was released. The book did not stay on the page.
It walked into rooms with me.
It showed up in speaking engagements, Q&A moments, hallway conversations, DMs, and those quiet “Can I tell you something?” exchanges that people only share when they feel safe. I have had people look me in the eye and say, “I thought I was the only one.” I have watched folks exhale mid-sentence because, for the first time, they felt seen instead of judged.
That’s the liberation I’m talking about.
Sometimes freedom does not come from a dramatic, movie-scene breakthrough. Sometimes it comes from a conversation where you finally stop pretending. Sometimes it comes from hearing your own words out loud and realizing you are not ashamed anymore. Sometimes it comes from knowing your story helped someone else keep living.
And that right there is why storytelling matters.
Your story is a legacy decision
Most people think legacy is something you leave behind when you are gone. I see it differently. Legacy is what you build while you are still here.
Legacy is what your life teaches, even when you never meant to be a teacher.
Somebody is watching how you recover. Somebody is learning from how you love. Somebody is gaining courage from how you keep showing up. Your story has value because it has impact. Even if you never stand on a stage. Even if you never go viral. Even if your name is never “known.”
If you have lived through anything that changed you, you have something worth sharing.
And for many of us, especially those of us who come from communities where our voices have been minimized, ignored, or erased, telling our story is more than self-expression. It is resistance. It is healing. It is ownership. It is proof that we were here, and that what we lived mattered.
What storytelling does in real life
Let me make this practical, because I do not believe in inspiration without direction.
When you tell your story, here are real outcomes that start to happen:
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You stop carrying everything alone.
Silence is heavy. Storytelling lightens the load because it moves the weight from your chest to the page. -
You gain clarity about who you are.
Writing forces honesty. It helps you recognize patterns, wounds, strengths, and growth you did not see clearly before. -
You create connection instead of isolation.
The right people do not judge your truth. They recognize themselves in it. That creates community, even if it starts with one reader. -
You turn pain into purpose.
Purpose does not always mean profit. Sometimes purpose means your experience becomes a map for somebody else. -
You build something that outlives a moment.
Posts disappear. Conversations fade. A book, a journal, a recorded message, a documented story can keep speaking long after you have moved on.
If you want to tell your story, start here
If you have been feeling that nudge to write, here are a few grounded steps you can take immediately:
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Name what your story is really about.
Not the events. The meaning. Healing. Identity. Faith. Survival. Forgiveness. Leadership. Becoming. Pick the thread. -
Decide who you are writing for.
People write better when they have someone in mind. Write for the person you used to be. Write for the person who needs hope. -
Choose one starting point and commit to it.
Start with one chapter, one memory, one lesson, one season. Momentum builds after you begin. -
Tell the truth, then edit the details.
You can protect privacy without watering down purpose. The truth is the engine. Editing is the steering wheel. -
Give your story a home.
Whether that home is a book, a blog, a spoken word performance, a podcast interview, or a workshop, your story deserves structure.
CTA: Build your legacy with the right resource
If you’re serious about moving from “I’ve been meaning to write” to “I’m really doing this,” I want you to have a tool that makes the process clearer.
That’s exactly why I wrote Self-Publishing from Scratch.
This resource was created for the person who has the story, has the idea, and has the desire, but needs a practical path forward. It walks you through how to start, what to prioritize, and how to publish with excellence so your story is not just written, but released.
If you are ready to build something that lasts, grab your copy and let it support you as you turn your lived experience into legacy.
Get the book: https://tinyurl.com/spfsbook
Your voice matters. Your story matters. And the world is better when you stop hiding what you survived and start sharing what you learned.
Be encouraged. I hope this helps you.
