As I explored the WishDish site with a friend of mine, she immediately told me, “This seems like a cool idea, but not sure if I have anything to share. I’m not a good writer anyways.”

As I have seen throughout high school and college, many of us have this same sentiment when it comes to writing, talking, or just storytelling in general – we tend to always think that it’s not for us.

The lies we tell ourselves:

1. I have nothing worth sharing
2. I don’t have the time
3. I’m not good enough at it

What we often don’t realize is:

1. Everyone has something worth sharing
2. Everyone can make time for it
3. Everyone has got to start somewhere.

All you have to do is take the time to listen to yourself. Pause. Take a moment and explore your life.

Start with a question, like: What’s something that I’m struggling with?

I don’t feel like I’m doing enough with my life. I feel like I’m unsuccessful.

Follow it up. Ask yourself why and what – and be relentless.

What does it mean to be successful? Why do you feel you’re not doing enough?

Everyone around me seems to be doing twice as much as I am. I feel like I should be doing so much more than I am. I felt like I was pretty successful in high school; everyone used to like me, I was able to do well in my classes, and I felt like I knew where my life was going. I don’t feel like that at all anymore.

Where was your life going? Why do you not feel like that now?

I’m a lot more confused about whether I want to be studying what I’m majoring in. A lot of my classes feel very dull. It can be frustrating because I don’t know what I want to do anymore, and I don’t know if I’m going to be happier by doing what I’m doing right now.

What will make you happier?

I don’t know. I enjoy spending time with my family and friends. Reading books, taking long walks. I miss being able to read books for fun.

What’s stopping you from doing those things?

I’m not good at managing my time. I feel swamped all the time and tired.

Why are you tired all the time? What’s taking up most of your time?

Studying! I’ve got a lot to do. I feel like I’m perpetually playing catch-up. I’m never able to get enough sleep. I’m barely able to keep up my grades.

Why are you spending so much time trying to study if you don’t know that’s what you want to do?

What do you want out of college? What did you expect going in? How has that changed? Why has that changed?

Does being successful only mean social acceptance, academic excellence, and knowing the future? Why do you feel like everybody has that?

Why does it matter that other people seem more successful than you?

Why do you like long walks? Why do you like to read books for fun?

The questions are endless.

Explore them, go down the rabbit hole. Talk to a friend, talk to yourself, or just start writing. Remember, your story doesn’t need a neat conclusion.

Sometimes the best stories are those that just leave the reader thinking – what will happen next? Is there a way to resolve this? Sometimes the best stories are those that let other people know – they are not alone – that you understand how complicated life can become. And sometimes, it’s only when we share our incomplete stories that we begin to understand how we might try to complete them.

So, what’s your story?

UGA Miracle is the biggest philanthropy on campus. There are thousands of members and the goals we set each year are outrageous. This year, we raised over $1 million dollars for Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta. That is amazing.

Raising that much money is something I never thought I would be a part of, especially as a first year student. I will forever be impressed by what a group of students can achieve when they really want to. All of this is just factual. The thing that gets to me is the dedication and inspiration you can sense in every member of the Executive Board. Everything for Miracle is big.

In UGA Miracle, the goals are huge, the meetings are loud, the reveals are magical.

At the beginning of the year, the goals reveal seemed like such a simple thing. Everyone gathers in a big room and the leaders announce how much money we aim to raise for the year. The reveal is something that gets put on a to-do list – something you go to because you feel obligated. When you get there though, everything changes.

A family comes in to talk to you, to connect you to what you are raising money for. Then the tears come. Some of the kindest people go through the most difficult things and that is tough to handle, even when you are not the one experiencing it. These families are inspirational beyond belief.

After the family shared, one of the Family Relations committee chairs spoke. She detailed her time with the Hopkins family and part of her message was “I am me because you are you”. This got to me. I think we see reflections of this statement in our daily lives and we just let them slip.

We are shaped and molded by those we spend time with.

It is obvious that my best friends throughout the years have made me who I am, but it is easy to forget. We forget that moments and concrete memories would have been completely different with other people.

Other times, we get angry and upset, and then we really forget. In the midst of heartbreak, we would much rather foster on the negative things that came with the pain rather than the light and the joy we had the chance to have for so long. Sometimes you go through a pain that is unlike anything you have experienced before. This is when you learn. You learn how to heal.

Sometimes the hardest things are what make you who you are. Sometimes the people that seem to cause the most damage actually teach you about yourself. I am me because you are you.

“What is depression like?” They ask her.

The number of times she has tried to explain this, put her feelings into words, was innumerable. There’s no way they would ever understand, but at least they were trying. It was nice that they wanted to know her.

“It’s hopelessness,” she replied, “It is walking into a room and knowing that you don’t belong, you aren’t wanted now nor will you ever be. It is that feeling of someone pulling away when you try to reach out and touch them. It is pitch-black nights, staring at the ceiling until morning because your brain will not let you sleep. It is the chill in the breeze that sends shivers down your back, but you have no place to take refuge. It is leaving home knowing you can never go back again.”

“So it’s like sadness?” they respond, “I have felt sadness, grief even.”

“Yeah, but it is more than that,” She continues, “It is sitting out of recess when your friends are all playing Red Rover. It is serving time for a crime you didn’t commit. It is wanting to be heard only to learn that you have no voice at all. It is the lump in your throat, the pit in your stomach, the slouch in your shoulders. It is being convinced that it is all your fault and you are the problem with this world. It is thinking that you probably deserve it.”

They sit with puzzled looks on their faces, unsure how to respond. “But you know it isn’t your fault, don’t you?”

Her face softens. “Well, yeah, I do, but that’s what makes depression so much darker than sadness.”

“It tells you that you are wrong, that you are the problem, that the whole world would be a hell of a lot happier if you had never existed.” Her voice catches in her throat, “You become so numb, that any feeling will do, even if it leaves scars in its wake. The wave crashes over you and you are drowning, but you were never breathing anyway, so what difference does it make. It follows you around and takes away the light in your eyes, as you pray that someone might notice you are being held hostage.

You want them to see, but depression always hides. No one is going to notice. No one is going to care. That is depression.