I started a magazine in June. I started a magazine because I wanted to tell other people's stories. I wanted to find the beauty in the every day, the power in the notion of heartache, the feeling of coming together. I wanted to give other people a voice, to let them know that they, too, had a story. They may not have a blog and they may not even be sure that they have something to say. But I made it my mission to ensure that I proved to them they did. I believed they had a story, and I wanted to tell it.
And so, I started a magazine in June. And it's taken me on an emotional roller coaster. Not just because of the stories, though hearing about the heartache that people are able to overcome is both humbling and powerful. But it has somehow made me take a step back and look at my own stories. It's made me question time and again, do I actually have something to say? When I publish something on my blog, what is the point? I haven't gone through anything monumental. I haven't overcome adversity and tragedy. I'm just a mom to a young son, who is married to a good man, who works in a good job and who had this idea. And so slowly, I've pulled back from this space. This space that I used to delight in day after day, where connecting with new people made my heart smile, where I was documenting the life I was living with my two boys.
And then today I realized it. I was doing the exact opposite of what I had set out to do.I was putting down my own life and experiences and not realizing I had a story. Is my story groundbreaking? Probably not, but it is mine. And whether one person reads this or a thousand people read this, it's still my story to tell. And documenting my life to share with my son someday is worth it. I'm worth it. So I did what I always do. I started over. I set up a simpler design, I sat down to type, and now I'll hit publish. And whether I'm here every day, or once a week, I am here. And my story is worth sharing.
And so is yours. Keep telling your story. It's worth it.