I have been journaling for a long time. When I was in third grade I got a journal for Christmas, and every evening I diligently wrote out exactly what I had done that day. Once, my mom commented on how sloppy my handwriting was and how I would never be able to read it and I was so devastated and embarrassed. I had never considered how my messy, quick notes would be seemingly worthless as I matured.

In middle school and high school I became a dedicated journaler. I wrote all about what was happening in my life, partially to record and look back on (especially if I became famous and people needed to read about my life, right?) But I also wrote to process. I have been told numerous times that debriefing or reviewing part of an experience is about 33% of the entire experience. If we don't process what has happened to us, we're basically getting a 66%, a D, at life. Yikes, right?

Each time I fill a journal and move on to the next one, I am overtaken by a plethora of bittersweet emotions. That journal has carried me a long way. There is joy, pain, sadness, and thankfulness inside of it. And moving ahead to a new, blank book is monumental. It is a chance to begin again, but it is also a stinging and burning letting go of what is now behind. Holding tightly to what has served me and continues to serve me, and letting go what was bitter, painful, what held me captive.

That is so hard, so incredibly painful.

Letting go is so hard.

But if I need the reminder, the reminder of where I have been, it is still there, inside the well worn pages.

We should record things because they are part of our stories, and our stories tell about who we are.

When someone asks you to describe yourself somehow, what they really want to know is your story. Who are you, but what made you who you are?

Because our stories tell the truth about us.

The truth about where we have been, and where we hope to go.

And if we don't record our stories somehow through writing, art, photography, or song, if we don't record them, they will someday become lost. And someone will be left alone to write their own stories.

Our stories can't prevent someone's story from having knicks in it, but our stories can help them along in the places where their story look a lot like ours.

And that's why we share. That's why we tell our stories.

Not to prevent someone from enduring something similar that will become an important piece of their story, but to walk alongside them and say,

"Yes! I hear you. I have been there. I understand, maybe not in the exact same way, but I know what you're talking about. Maybe I'm not totally on the other side of that, but I'm walking with you, and we will make it to the other side together."

That's why we tell our stories. Don't be ashamed of the bitter, don't forget the sweet. Hold both pieces together, honor their importance, and when the time comes, tell your story, and tell it with so much bravery that nothing is left untouched.