The Untold Story

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ―Maya Angelou


I lived most of my life, carrying a story that I wanted so desperately to share. The secrets held me hostage, not allowing me to get too close to anyone. What if they find out? The tricky part was, I wanted them to know. I wanted more than anything to let them in.

I was trained as a child to keep quiet. I took that advice to the most literal sense of the word. I became what was described as painfully shy. It was true, it was painful. I had a lot to say, and no where to say it. No one to listen, or worse, people who may listen, but who would be able to twist the facts to fit what was best for them.

I knew at an early age I wanted to write my memoir. I wasn’t sure why this desire was inside of me, only that I had to release it at some point. When the time was right. When the secrets that I held onto could be set free into the world.

As I began, I released the tight grip I had on the secrets, only to encounter a road block. A few thousand words in, and I could not continue. The heavy weight of fear, and disappointment held me down. I knew I could not continue. I could not share my story, if sharing it meant I was going to hurt someone. It did not matter that the one I did not want to hurt was the one to hurt me the most. The words were barricaded, back, deep within myself. 

As the newly released words lingered in my mind, I could not stop the memories from flooding me. There was so much that I had forgotten. There were events that I had never spoken of, and things I never wanted to. The power behind this story, that I could not dispose of, took on a life of its own. 

It opened up doors, I never would have knocked on. It showed me people through different eyes. It beat against my chest until I just couldn’t hold it back any longer. The pain had to be eased. The only way, was to let it go.

And then it poured out. Every. Last. Word. And, then it hurt some more. As the pain evolved from holding onto words I could not let go of to words I could not take back, it began to hurt less. The shame and fear lingered, still, but there was no place to hide. Open for all to see, my insides were now outside. 

Each day brought relief. The agony slipped into contentment as the burden was lifted. 

Tell your story.

Let the pain escape. 

3 thoughts on “The Untold Story”

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