Most people don’t struggle with having a story. They struggle with knowing where to start.
It’s not that the experiences aren’t there; it’s that they’ve been overlooked —dismissed as too normal, or not quite meaningful enough to share. So instead of exploring what’s already there, we go looking for something bigger. Something more defined. Something that feels like it would “count.”
But the stories that carry the most weight rarely start as momentous. They start with what lingered long after that moment was gone.
If you’re not sure what your story is, or where to begin, start by paying attention to what you keep coming back to.
A simple way to begin is to look in three places: First, the moments you revisit. These moments are the ones that you recall or share often. Not always the biggest, but the ones that left an impression.
Second, the conversations you never forgot. Something that was said to you — or something you said — that altered how you saw yourself or the world around you.
And third, the seasons that changed you.The times in your life where something beneath the surface shifted, even if it didn’t feel obvious in the moment.
What you’ll likely find is that your story isn’t one single event. It’s a collection of moments, perspectives, and experiences that shaped how you think, how you lead, and how you show up.
That’s your story. Not the polished version. Not the finished version. The real one.
And owning it doesn’t begin when it’s ready to be shared. It begins when you stop looking past it and start giving it the attention it’s been asking for.