Original Link : https://medium.com/@Shesreallyfat/an-open-letter-to-anyone-who-feels-lost-or-hopeless-261c44ca7f52

Your story hasn’t ended.

Jamie Tworkowski says that “We are living stories,” and I think he’s absolutely right about that.

We are all living stories. And let’s face it — every really good story is far from flat. Everybody loves a juicy tragedy. A frightful thriller. Until, of course, it’s their tragedy or their fright.

But that’s a damn shame because who knows? All of your scary and tragic shit could be prepping you to tell one helluva good story.

That’s why you belong here. Right here, wherever you are. No, I know. Life sucks and the shit you’re going through is terrible. I’m not denying any of that.

What I’m saying is that you’ve got options even when your choices feel so small. You belong here in this world despite how hard it seems right now. You belong here with people who love you. Okay, so maybe nobody really loves you right now, you say.

But they will.

You’ve just got to stick around long enough to know that love.

Believe me, I know all about loss and pain. I know what it’s like to doubt you’ve got much more than even an hour left in you — let alone a whole ‘nother day.

Yet here I am. Making it out alive after decades of darkness.

Now, I don’t believe that any pain is “meant to be.” But it’s certainly informative. And we get to decide whether or not we’re going to let our wounds go ahead and dictate who we are. Or if we’ll use them to change our life for the better.

You are not your wounds. Hell, you are not even your blood or your scars or your pain.

If you are anything in relation to your trauma, you are a living story. A fucking work of art. And that means you have much more power than you likely think over the the way your story is told.

Maybe you’ve already decided that all your pain and trauma gets to tell you and the rest of the planet who you really are. That it’s too late for you and this is all vapid dribble. You might think so, but you’d be mistaken. Because it’s the story of what you decide to do with all of that pain which ultimately tells us all who you really are.

Whatever you’re doing for a living, the random stuff you’ve acquired, and the money you’ve earned? Those things are nothing compared to the stories about what you’ll do with your scars. How you’ll use that pain.

Because yes, we are all living, breathing stories, and we are all more than capable of doing something great with whatever we’ve been given. The good and the bad can serve us, all of us, and both can serve us well.

I know it isn’t easy. The world will try to break us down into a million pieces in a hundred different ways. At least.

Try not to be discouraged. There’s a place for you in this damn world anyway. You belong here. There’s room for every seemingly tragic tale to find its footing. There’s room for your success. And your failure.

It’s all going to be growth if you let it.

Even when you’re going through the darkest days that feel longer than you ever could have imagined, hope is not extinct. There is still a place for hope to thrive. There is a way for you to do much more than only survive.

Even if you feel too weary and used up long before your time, your story isn’t over. There are so many chapters ahead of you, so give yourself the permission to carry on. You don’t need to have your storyline neatly packed away or tied up with no loose threads.

If you are breathing, your story is still alive too. Let it wander freely. Don’t worry about it running wild. Perhaps a little recklessness would do your whole life a world of good.

You’ll never know until you finally try to write a story you can be proud of. And you’ll never know what could be if you refuse to let yourself dream.

Every single one of us could live our lives out like a sad sob story. There’s more than enough pain to go around for that. But maybe what nobody ever told you is that you don’t have to be defined by your broken dreams.

The magic is all in the making. Of building a story with legs. And giving yourself permission to dream again.

You are a living, breathing story. And nobody else can live your tales like you. They can’t tell your story. Not like you can.

Living, breathing stories, moving about time and space in endless ways. Don’t you think there’s some kind of magic in the vast experience we so often write off to monotony?

Or grief?

What if you knew, and honestly believed that the broken chapters of your story wouldn’t be your ending? What would you do differently if you fully knew that this is not the end for you? Or that your story might even live on if you write a great one?

My wish for you, my wish for all of us is that we could see the beauty past the pain. Not because it was fair or good or anything we deserved. But because as long as you’re still breathing, still thinking, still feeling… you get to choose what comes next.

I hope you choose an incredible next chapter. Again and again and again. I hope you choose to use the pain for something beautiful. Even if that simply means telling your story and helping somebody else feel less alone. I hope you’ll let that be a part of your journey too.

Maybe your story feels dark and irredeemable right now. I hope you choose to turn things around anyway.

Because there is a place for you. You are welcome here. You belong here. In this space between words and dreaming, you deserve to dream on and be loved.

You might feel a little or a lot like an outcast, but we outcasts have a secret the rest of the world still hasn’t understood. Your wounds are a deep opportunity for your purpose. Your tears are another reason to see another day. It won’t always be like this forever. You won’t always feel dark and alone.

There are better things ahead, much greater than any sting. And your losses add insight to your purpose. You don’t have to feel it today. But if you hang on and seek out your magic, you’ll live through a more brilliant chapter than you ever imagined.