What If the Story is Too Big?

Sometimes the story that wants to be told is the very one that scares us most.

It’s not that we don’t want to tell it — it’s that we don’t know where to begin.

The story feels heavy, tangled, or so personal that even naming it out loud seems impossible.

So start small.

Big stories — about loss, betrayal, illness, or change — are made up of hundreds of small moments. Find one of them. The sound of the doctor’s shoes in the hallway. The feel of a key turning in a door for the last time. The day you laughed when you didn’t think you could.

That’s where your story begins — not with the whole truth, but with one moment that holds it.

Let an object carry part of the weight. Tell the story of your mother’s old coffee cup, your wedding ring, your running shoes, or the yearbook you’ve kept tucked away. Objects give us a safe distance; they know what happened without asking us to relive it.

Or shift the frame. What would your younger self need to hear from you now? What might a friend say if they were telling this story about you? Changing the angle helps you see meaning where pain once lived.

Not every story needs to be told all at once. Some stories are still unfolding. Some are teaching us as we tell them. It’s okay to begin with the part you can hold in your hands right now.

When your story feels too big, don’t force it. Find the small doorway in — the detail, the sound, the moment of kindness or clarity. That’s where your truth waits patiently.