Why I Share My Story Online
Some people keep diaries. I decided to keep mine on the internet, where strangers (hi!) can read it. And for someone who has always been a private person, it seems like an odd choice to make.
On paper, it doesn’t make sense. Why would a guy who spent most of his life hiding behind walls suddenly swing open the gates and say, “Here’s all my messy, vulnerable stuff; come take a look”? The short answer: healing makes us do weird things. The long answer: because writing my trauma down where others can see it helps me feel less alone, less ashamed, and a little more human.
For me, healing in public isn’t about showing off or putting my pain on display. It’s about not keeping quiet anymore. Trauma does its best work in the dark. It feeds on secrecy and it loves shame. The second I pull it out into the open, even if that’s just typing into a glowing laptop screen at 2 a.m., it doesn’t feel quite as heavy.
And honestly? That feels more powerful than keeping it hidden. It also gives others a chance to come across my words and maybe find a bit of solace in them. That’s a win-win in my book.
The Vulnerability Hangover
But let me be honest, healing in public isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes I hit publish and immediately want to delete what I just posted, because I am convinced I’ve overshared or that people will read my words and think less of me. That’s the “vulnerability hangover” Brené Brown talks about, and it’s real. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve stared at a post thinking, “Maybe I should just delete this and go back to posting pictures of otters.”
Still, every time I leave my words up, someone reaches out and says, “I thought I was the only one.” That moment makes all the sweaty-palmed second-guessing worth it. It reminds me that what feels like exposing weakness is often exactly what someone else needs to feel stronger.
Owning My Story, One Post at a Time
Writing publicly also helps me stay accountable to myself. When I put words out there, I can’t just shove them back into a mental drawer and pretend they don’t exist. I have to own them. And in owning them, I start to own my story a little more.
It also clarifies things. Trauma has a way of turning thoughts into spaghetti, knotted, sticky, and impossible to untangle. But when I write, I have to slow down and untangle it enough to make sense on a page. Even if no one else reads it, I leave with a little more order in my head than I started with.
Not Everyone Gets It, And That’s Okay
Of course, there’s risk in this kind of honesty. Not everyone gets it. Some people minimize, others give advice I never asked for, and others just kind of back away, like I sneezed my trauma on them. That’s fine. I’ve learned I’m not writing for them. I’m writing for me and for the people who might see themselves in my story.
Because the thing is, trauma isolated me for years. It told me I was too broken, too much, and too different. Writing online is my way of pushing back against that lie. Every post says, “I’m still here. I’m still human. And if you’re carrying something heavy too, you’re not alone.”
Holding Up a Light in the Dark
So yeah, maybe it’s strange to turn my story into a public one. But for me, healing in public is less about shouting into the void and more about holding up a light in the dark, hoping someone else walking through their own night sees the light and thinks, “Oh. Me too.”
If you’ve made it this far, thank you for sitting with me in this space. Healing in public isn’t everyone’s path, but it’s become a vital part of mine. It helps me break silence, push back against shame, and connect with people who understand in ways I never thought possible.
If you’re someone who carries trauma too, maybe you’ve found your own version of “healing out loud.” Or maybe you’re still working up the courage to. Either way, you’re not alone.
And since healing feels a little less lonely when it’s shared, what’s one thing you’ve found helps you feel lighter, even on hard days? Drop me a comment, send me an email, or just know you’re welcome here.
Photo by Glenn Carstens-Peters on Unsplash