For class, our professor assigned us one thing: write about a personal experience that’s happened to us. Immediately, this was something I was not looking forward to. Why?
- Number one: I don’t like writing about myself.
- Number two: I couldn’t think of anything.
I scouted my brain for something interesting and exciting that has happened to me. Instead, I sat stuck — stuck on the fact that nothing I had to say would be of any interest to anyone.
So, I wrote about a lame personal experience story. The story was about a time I locked my keys in my house and had to pay $75 to get it unlocked. So interesting, right? Ha, you’re right. Not.
When I turned my story in, I knew it was nothing special. And I was right, as my professor gave it back to me and told me I could rewrite it.
Welp, back to square one again. I had to come up with something new. Something that mattered. Something interesting. Something worthy of someone’s time.
I thought back to a time in my life where I’ve never been more scared. It was something that directly affected me and an experience I will never forget.
My mentality while writing it still slightly swayed to the side of “who cares about this,” but as I began thinking about my attitude, I knew I was feeding myself a false lie.
My story did matter. If my story didn’t matter, then no one’s story mattered. We wouldn’t have books, bedtime stories and conversation — if we didn’t have stories.
After dreadfully writing a personal experience story — twice — the lesson I learned wasn’t about the story itself. It was about the opportunity I had to share my story with others.
My story matters — your story matters — no matter what it is.