Friends, through the nearly four years of having this blog and platform I have had the incredible opportunity to hear so many of your stories – both shared openly on platforms like this, through personal friendships with you, as well as private messages you honor me with.
One consistent theme: We all go through shit.
Your shit is not worse than my shit. You do not win because you openly share your shit all the livelong day (like me!), or you assume your shit stinks worse than her shit. Maybe she deals with her shit privately, or maybe I haven’t faced my shit fully because it is so, so painful. More painful and shitty that I worry you can imagine (though I would be wrong, because shit is the universal language).
I find these shitty stories heartbreaking, but also so so cathartic to learn that my suffering is not unique. My shit show is not special. I do not win arguments because somehow my shit is super-shitty and therefore trumps your shit.
My pain, my shame are relieved by hearing your stories.
In turn, I aim to share my stories (and others’ stories) to obliterate others’ shame and hurt and loneliness around their shit.
The other part of life’s shitty shit-shit?
AWESOME WOMEN WHO GET THROUGH SHIT. The parts of your stories you share openly or privately often come with redemption, humility and growth. I am constantly inspired by women who wade through the deepest shit storms and come out loving, brave and triumphant.
And I love those stories most of all.
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