Many moons ago, I started to discuss my love of stories. Today, we continue and go quite a bit deeper, only this time I’m taking what began as a letter to a dear friend, and after making a few adaptations, sharing it with the wider world.

“I wanted to address once more our conversation and some of the reasons I think it can be helpful, and sometimes outright healing, to talk about things. First of all, it gets things out. You happen to have a number of emotional outlets, from yoga to music, many people don’t have as many, so simply telling a story can get it out, which is important, because bottling things up can cause all sorts of nasty things (like cancer). Getting it out can transfer the power from the story to the storyteller, which is important. We have a powerful experience, and that experience can have power over us, unless we’re able to confront it and learn to relate to it a way that makes us powerful. The act of telling a disempowering experience can return our power to us from the experience. It can give us new perspective, new understanding, and a new way to relate to the story. For me, writing has always been another way for me to get things out, gain perspective and understanding, and have power from my stories. However, something I’ve noticed is that I often want to share my thoughts and feelings and discoveries with others (even when they initially come from journaling). I think there is something very important about having others witness our experience. Something happens in the process of sharing our stories. For starters we are no longer alone. We have allies, the burden is no longer only on my shoulders (where we hold so much tension).

I believe that this is exactly what stops most of us from sharing: we don’t want to burden others. We’re afraid that others don’t want to be burdened. And indeed there are times when a listener has to go through some processing too, because they’re hearing a story that is hard to hear, maybe because it’s full of pain, or suffering, maybe because it hits close to home; whatever the reason is, it’s challenging. It  is my belief that friends and family members are always here to help and support. To be open (and when necessary compassionately nonjudgmental) listeners. A friend (or parent or brother or sister) is willing the share the burden, to help others become empowered and help others let go. To me, this is a fundamental part of friendship and familial relationships, and it’s an obligatory part.

I want to go back to “sharing the burden” though, because sometimes (perhaps more often than not), something more fantastic happens than just having someone to help take part of the load. Sometimes the burden is transformed, and it no longer has the same weight, it’s no longer a heavy weight on one’s shoulders because once you “get it off your chest” and see it from a new perspective (or just hear it externalized) it diffuses into something else. When this happens, the listener, be they friend, family, or professional, witnesses that transformation, and become a part of the experience of transformation. In these cases, there is no real sharing of a burden, because there is no more burden, there’s only a story, and a whole lot of love and gratitude. So, this is why I believe in the importance of sharing experiences, even when they’re painful yucky experiences, and this is why I hope that all of my friends and family (and one day patients) know that I’m hear to be open and listen. And I give thanks (though probably not as often as I should), to my friends and family members for being here (and there) for me when I’m in a place of need.”

I’d like to also mention that in general, men have more difficulty opening up to share. We’re “supposed” to be strong, we’re not “supposed” to need help, but truth is, we all suffer and we all need to share. If you are a man, take notice, and think about this, if you are a woman, think about your male friends/family members, and if/when you get the chance, be patient and encouraging. That said, there are plenty of women who live out the “everything’s fine” syndrome. Women, who are incredibly supportive of those around them, but don’t know when or how to reach out for support when they themselves are in need. They’ll swallow their grief and their pain, and it will often manifest physically. Sometimes, they’ll even hesitate to pursue physical care. If you know someone like this, try to create the space for them to open up and let go.

It’s interesting to me that this theme is coming up now, in the height of Fall, because Fall is the season for letting go. Just as the trees let go of their leaves, it’s a perfect time for us to let go of our painful experiences, and enjoy the sweetness of love and connection as we prepare to move into the Winter.

So, go somewhere beautiful, look at the leaves changing color as they die, giving one last final performance to pronounce the beauty of the cycle of life and death, and share the stories!