Mark Lovett

The Superpower of Comic Con – Natalie Kaczorowski at TEDxSanDiego 2016

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Comic Con is like a multi-day thrill ride, more carnival than convention, packed with eccentric attire, celebrities, and all things pop-culture. For years, onlookers have viewed these masters of the geek universe with a sense of confusion and comic relief.

That’s about to change, as Natalie Kaczorowski, aka Comic Connie, looks behind the mask of Comic Con to explain the hype, the craziness, and the exceptional superpower of Comic Con. Strap in for the thrill-ride of your life, as things are about to get nerdy.

“We are who we choose to be. So choose.”

Back in the day, when I was the organizer of TEDxSanDiego, I would start lining up speakers 6 months ahead of time. The theme for 2016 was The Age of Magic. One aspect of this theme addressed the incredible technology that was being developed and deployed around the world in ways that could change society.

But another way to look at this theme was through the lens of human identity and the human imagination. That got me thinking about Comic-Con, the world-famous conference held annually in San Diego. And as luck would have it, I knew someone who approached the yearly convention with an unbridled passion.

The brilliance in Natalie’s talk comes from her ability to weave her personal story of finding her identity and her tribe to the broader story of how everyone is just playing a role in life, whether they recognize it or not.

Notice how she captures the audience’s attention and has them laughing — first by referring to the superhero outfit she’s wearing on stage, and seconds later, to the outfit she’s wearing in a photo taken at Comic Con.

When I was a kid, I always had a flair for the dramatic. Turns out I had a condition called being an insufferable pain in the ass.

She then takes us from the woman she is on stage that day, to the young girl she was growing up and the central topic of how we all struggle to find our identity. In her case, that journey was through the world of comic book heroes.

Comic-Con is really an invitation to celebrate self-expression.

And when she introduces the topic of cosplay, it’s an opportunity to connect to the audience on the topic of self-expression, and thus, personal identity.

I want to live in a world where we don’t have to have an identity struggle or change or hide our appearance to hide from who we really want to be.

As you follow Natalie’s journey of self-expression, connecting with her tribe, and becoming her most invincible self, reflect upon your own path and the struggles you’ve had to simply be yourself.

If you’re in the process of writing a personal story of your own, note how Natalie blends various story blocks in order to create a narrative tapestry that’s founded in her own experiences, but reaches out the audience with a universal message.

Transcript

I wish I could wear this every day.
No, I meant this.
That’s me, by the way.

Sounds like a funny request, but this photo actually reminds me of this photo. Which is also me. Now, I know the first thing that comes to mind when you see this photo is, obviously, future TEDx speaker. But if you look deeper, you’ll see there’s a similarity between these two photos.

This is me at my most amazing. And this is me at my most invincible. And in both photos, I am my most fearless. I didn’t realize that until I experienced the superpower of Comic-Con for the first time.

Society doesn’t tell us that we can dress in superhero costumes in everyday life. We need to get a real job, get a real degree, start a real family. We are supposed to be normal. We struggle, though, with identity our entire lives. It’s a common theme in superhero stories, too. Peter Parker struggles with the fact that he’s Spider-Man. Clark Kent changes his appearance to hide the fact that he’s Superman. Bruce Wayne doesn’t feel free until he becomes Batman.

When I was a kid, I always had a flair for the dramatic. Turns out I had a condition called being an insufferable pain in the ass. I wasn’t raised by my real parents, so I imagined my journey through life in the context of Superman. I always felt like the world was on the verge of ending, so I felt like a vampire slayer. All that drama actually made things more clear. It was good versus evil, right and wrong, black and white. With great power comes great responsibility.

Somewhere along the line, I quit looking at the world that way. We reach an age where we stop believing that we’re capable of saving the world or in magical lands where anything is possible. Which is why Comic-Con is such an enigma. I get it. Not everyone understands Comic-Con. First of all, you don’t simply just go there! It’s really hard to get tickets! Tickets to Comic-Con aren’t really bought so much as you win the privilege of paying for a ticket.

During open registration, badges sell out in less than an hour in the most stressful, indigestion-inducing process in history. Ask anyone that’s been through this, it’s the joy of being selected for Hogwarts matched with the sheer terror of surviving the Hunger Games.

I get asked all the time, why go through all that trouble? Or more commonly, you pay so much money and get dressed up and sit in some theater to watch a bunch of people talk. It’s gonna come out on YouTube. I mean, you guys get it, right? So annoying. Let it sink in.

Truth is, millions of people try to go to Comic-Con. It has something for everyone. It ranges from well-known comics and mainstream movies and television, to also include video games, anime, science, technology, everything in between. It’s the one place where the line to the men’s room can consist of Reed Richards, Han Solo, Captain Picard, someone cosplaying astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson, and the actual Neil deGrasse Tyson.

You might have heard that term cosplay before. It’s a big part of Comic-Con. Cosplay is the art of dressing up. And like any classic art, it revolves around self-expression. Celebrities even dress up to go to Comic-Con for the same reason everyone else does: because you can be whoever you want to be. Even if you just want to dress and blend in with the Stormtroopers.

Comic-Con is really an invitation to celebrate self-expression. I’m going to tell you an origin story about how my two identities became one. Natalie grew up in a small town. She didn’t win any high school awards. But if there was a trophy for most contributed screencaps of the Dharma logos on the Lost Wikipedia page, she would have won it. She found a small tribe of people that would put up with her crazy teen antics, even embrace her for it. She thought that familial bond she had was isolated to her hometown until she went to Comic-Con.

Now, here’s a place full of hundreds of thousands of people that not only got it, but celebrated it. It’s a utopia, a hub of energy, full of lights and sounds and culture. Comic-Con is like a parade, Mardi Gras, and Times Square, all at the same time. It’s Nerd Mecca. Of course I’d want to live there. I mean, she, she would want to live there.

So, Natalie moved to San Diego. And every year when Comic-Con came to town, it was like homecoming. But on the last day of Comic-Con, she gets this sinking feeling in her chest. She felt worse after Comic-Con. She didn’t know why. She did all the normal things: got a job, got a degree, gotten married. Something was missing that compelled her to change. So she began to dismantle all of the beautiful things she had, one by one, until she had none of those things.

A friend of ours came up with an idea about how to best utilize her talents. We called it Comic-Con-nie. All that was needed was a camera, her passion for Comic-Con, and to act like a super nerd. Oh, and she had to wear the costume. That changed everything. Wearing that costume, playing that part, it allowed her to unlock her passion for talking to people about the characters and the stories that excited her.

And when she ran out of different costumes to wear, she started wearing nerdy t-shirts, even off-camera. And then something amazing happened. People from diverse backgrounds would recognize those symbols. They’d strike up conversations she never saw coming. Sometimes it’s, “I love your shirt!”

Seeing that symbol gives them this freedom in identifying that we are members of the same tribe. That was my radioactive spider bite. That’s when who I was trying to be and who I was afraid of being finally came together. That’s when I realized, this is who I’m supposed to be. Comic-Con connects individuals with their tribe. But fandom is the connection that the tribe has with characters which represent an ideal that we admire.

It could come in the form of power, like Superman’s abilities. Iron Man’s financial strength. Sherlock Holmes’ superior intellect. Or maybe, maybe we just need courage. Like Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games, or Jon Snow from Game of Thrones, who in the face of insurmountable odds still have the courage to fight. And the best part? People are lining up to speak with Charles Xavier.

I understand there’s a lot of pushback with this idea of dressing up in large groups. For some reason, people find it strange to wear Vulcan ears to match your Starfleet uniform. But when you spend over $300 on an authentic jersey and paint your face in your team’s colors, I have news for you. You are a nerd! Nerd! We do this, though, for love of the story. It’s united humans together for thousands of years.

Maybe it’s a group of people sitting in an auditorium or watching online randomly chosen members of society tell their stories. You can nerd out about anything. I’ve stood in line overnight to watch a panel for a TV show called Supernatural. Thank you. In 2016, Supernatural broke a record by entering its 12th season. I’m not still watching to see which of the two main characters is going to get punched in the face by a ghost this week. I stand in line to meet other fans. The show speaks to us because it teaches us that home isn’t necessarily where you came from. Family doesn’t end with blood. We are stronger together than we are apart.

Comic-Con is a ritual that celebrates this transformation. For four days out of the year, you can be whoever you want to be instead of who you’re supposed to be. Define yourself. That’s the superpower of Comic-Con. Comic-Con was the catalyst for my own transformation. Natalie and Comic-Con-nie have merged into me. To become my most amazing, my most invincible. And they’ve led me to this stage so I can become my most fearless.

I want to live in a world where we don’t have to have an identity struggle or change or hide our appearance to hide from who we really want to be. What if being a superhero in everyday life was normal? You dress for the job you want. And dressing the part and playing the part means being the part. Then the real question is, who are you cosplaying as this year?

We are who we choose to be. So choose.

Thank you.

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Mark Lovett

Stop Telling Single People to Get Married – Peter McGraw at TEDxBoulder

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We would like to think that all the decisions we make are of our own choosing. They are, to some extent, of course, but oftentimes social norms have a way of creeping into the equation. We do something because everyone else is doing it, or our friends and family expect us to. Sometimes it’s related to our culture, or our religion.

Marriage has a way of falling into this trap. In his recent talk from TEDxBoulder, Stop Telling Single People to Get Married, Peter McGraw walks us through the changing social norm of getting hitched, and offers us a new way to look at the concept of significant other.

The solo movement, where being single isn’t just tolerated, it’s celebrated. Not less than, not better, just a different path filled with opportunities to live remarkably.

His talk includes a number of beautifully humorous moments (it’s a lesson unto itself) but beyond the laughter, Peter provides us with a brief history lesson on how the cultural norms of marriage have changed over time. And as with most social paradigms, it’s complex.

The story of the rise of singles is the story of the rise of women.

Impactful talks are always about shifting our perspective, so Peter offers some suggestions as to how we can view the solo life on equal footing with marriage.

  • Expand the concept of “significant other” to include family, friends, and chosen family, recognizing the importance of diverse social connections.
  • Advocate for “family of one” policies, like those in Sweden, that provide a social safety net (healthcare, education, caregiving support) to all citizens individually, regardless of marital status.
  • Elevate single living to be on par with married living, recognizing it as a different, equally valid path to a remarkable life.

As you listen to Peter’s talk and read through the transcript, notice how he’s taken us on a journey that is both personal and, at the same time, universal.

Watch as he turns the spotlight from himself to the world at large, then over to the audience. We always want to know what’s next, where the story is heading. And we learn something along the way.

Transcript

My not so subtle request: Stop telling single people to get married.

20 years ago, I threw myself a bachelor party as a new professor at CU Boulder. Backs were slapped, stories were shared, glasses clinked. But there was a hitch: I wasn’t getting hitched.

My rationale, without a wedding in sight, why do married folks get to have all the fun?

Unbeknownst to me, that night I joined a movement. The solo movement, where being single isn’t just tolerated, it’s celebrated. Not less than, not better, just a different path filled with opportunities to live remarkably.

In 1960, 90% of adults in the United States would go on to get married. Today, 50% of adults in the US are unmarried. 25% of millennials are projected to never marry. And don’t get me started on what’s happening with Gen Z.

Yet, we still live in a world built for two. Married people have access to over 1,000 legal advantages unavailable to singles: tax breaks, social security benefits.

Singles invest heavily in marital milestones. This made sense when everyone got married. But for us lifelong singles, we have to buy our own crockpots.

And then there’s Aunt Sally, who keeps asking, “So, is there anyone special?” How many of us have an Aunt Sally?

Lately, a chorus of media voices have traded Aunt Sally’s question for a prescription: Get Married. You don’t believe me? There’s a book called Get Married. And it came out, of course, on Valentine’s Day.

The “Get Married” advocates like to point to data that show that married people report higher life satisfaction than single people. Their conclusion: Get married and get happy. Your bonus: you get to save civilization.

Now, you might be wondering, and the answer is no, I’m not anti-marriage. I’ve even had a couple near misses.

But I am against over-prescribing marriage based on correlational data that the “Get Married” crowd is a little too wedded to. Any serious scientist who looks at these data comes to the same conclusion: that is, the people who get married are already slightly happier to begin with.

But there is a happiness effect in the data. There’s a wedding day bump. But it fades fast. For 30K a pop, the average US wedding, at that cost, you can take 15 vacations. Without your in-laws.

But here’s the real puzzle. And it’s one that the “Get Married” crowd can’t answer. And that is this: If getting married makes you happy, why is it that the happiest places on Earth feature the most people going solo? This is especially the case in Scandinavia.

I say, rather than treating the rise of singles as a bug, let’s treat it as a feature. A feature of progress, especially for women.

The arranged marriage was invented 4,400 years ago in order to form business alliances during harsh agrarian times. Women were treated more like property than partners, with a husband receiving ownership from the father at the altar. Thankfully, today, marriage is more about love, and it’s increasingly optional.

The story of the rise of singles is the story of the rise of women. And it really got rolling with the invention of the spinning wheel. The spinsters who used it could earn their own money and escape being owned by a husband or a father.

With the invention of birth control and greater access to education and economic opportunities, “I do” is becoming, “Do I?”

The spinsters of yesterday and the cat ladies of today are not old maids. They’re trailblazers, pioneers of independence.

Urbanization, apartments, and the home appliances that were invented for housewives are spurring a huge increase in people living alone, especially in cities like Stockholm.

Intrigued by these happy Scandinavians, I swapped out my Stetson for an Indiana Jones style fedora and headed to Sweden, a global leader in gender equality. And I found lots of one-bedroom apartments filled with singles, some by choice, some by chance, but living rich, interconnected, remarkable lives.

So let’s dispense with the calls to get married. They’re either already preaching to the choir or shouting into the wind. There are the “someday” singles. They’re looking for their person, sometimes waiting hopelessly. The “just may” singles are open to possibilities, the hopeful romantics. But of single adults in the United States, half have other priorities.

They’re not looking for love or lust, whether for now or forever. And they’re channeling their time and their energy and their intention into education, building businesses, creating art. For many singles, they live meaningful lives. Singles give more time. They’re more likely to care for elderly parents and disabled friends, more so than their non-single counterparts.

So what should we tell single people rather than get married? Let’s start by expanding the concept of significant other. It originally included family and deep friendships, including family of choice. Indeed, science shows that social connections broadly predict life satisfaction.

I’ve never put a ring on a finger, but I have significant others. They are my brothers and sisters in the solo community around the world. There’s my brother from another mother, Darwin, who’s taught me more about unconditional love than any lover has. And here tonight is my soul sister, Julie, who was at my bachelor party 20 years ago. I love you, Julie.

Next, let’s advocate for policies that support a family of one. Sweden’s social safety net is given to all citizens individually: universal healthcare, free or low-cost education, affordable childcare, and eldercare. No spouse required. Amen.

And lastly, let’s elevate single living to be on par with married living. Not better, not worse, just a different path filled with opportunities to live remarkably.

I always thought that there was something wrong with me for not wanting to get married. The prospect of it felt like I would be wearing an ill-fitting suit, or worse, a straitjacket.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I have plenty of problems. There’s a lot of things wrong with me. But putting a ring on it is not going to solve my problems.

And as I was nursing a broken heart after one of my near misses, it hit me: I’m not half waiting for a whole. I’m wholehearted. I’m complete, I’m healthy, I’m financially stable, I do meaningful work, I have a wide and deep connected group of friends. I feel wholehearted, and I hope you do too.

In the end, there is no one remarkable life. There are remarkable lives. And no amount of pearl clutching or calls to get married are going to drag us back to the good old days, which, to be honest, weren’t that good to begin with.

Someday, single living and married living will stand side by side, equal. In the meantime, the solo movement has a big tent. Never married? Divorced? Separated? Widowed? Welcome. We celebrate you and our married allies.

The future is about options, not prescriptions. So let’s toast to a world that honors both the choice to settle down or go solo.

Cheers.

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What if community is built by sharing stories we hide?

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Sónia Silva is a master storyteller. It’s as simple as that. Full disclosure, I do know Sónia as we’re friends who also work together on the TEDxLisboa curation team. So I was quite happy to hear that she was going to give a TEDx talk of her own at TEDxPraça Gil Eanes in Portugal. Her talk, What if community is built by sharing stories we hide?, speaks to the ability of our personal stories to connect people, and in doing so, strengthen communities. If you have a story to tell, but you’ve been holding back, this is a story that you should listen to.

Sónia Silva is a communication coach and trainer specializing in voice, storytelling, and public speaking. With a Master’s in Clinical Linguistics and a background in speech therapy, she combines scientific knowledge with a coaching approach to help entrepreneurs and leaders develop their vocal expression, refine their message, and deliver it with confidence and impact

There’s so much wisdom in Sónia’s talk, so much so that I can’t highlight it all, but here are five pearls of wisdom that resonated with me.

But what if the real glue between us isn’t sameness, but the courage to live our own really messy human stories?

Stories turn strangers into people we care about.

Tell your story, even if it’s messy, even if your voice shakes. Create space, build community, not to fit in, not to perform, to belong.

Empathy doesn’t come from headlines or from data. It’s emotional education by direct exposure without someone else’s filter.

When we find meaning together, we co-create future. When we find meaning together, we co-create relations.

As I’ve written about many times before, the essence of personal storytelling is sharing a part of your life experience with others, so that they can understand themselves, their community, and the world at large in a new way.

And I loved her mentioning “messy human stories”, as every person I’ve worked with over the years had a messy story to tell in some respect. Truth be told, they didn’t always tell the messy parts, which was a shame, as what’s different about us, and discussing what didn’t work out the way we wanted, forges a stronger connection with those hearing your story.

Remember my opening line? Where I mention Sónia is a master storyteller? Well, consider this a masterclass in how to craft a compelling story that includes you — the storyteller — but focuses on the wisdom that you bring to an audience. Watch her talk (at least once, preferably more) and read the transcript below. You’ll find it’s time well spent.

Transcript

I remember the moment the doors swung open and I saw 25 kids stare me up and down. I was six years old, and I did what I knew best. I hid behind two large trees: my father’s legs. We had just moved from Germany to Portugal, to Lagos, my family’s hometown. And my mother gently assured me, “Darling, don’t worry. In Portugal, all the kids are just like you.”

What does that even mean when you’re six? Sure, I spoke Portuguese, sure, I looked Portuguese. I still do. Brown eyes, brown hair. But the way I dressed with funky leggings and Birkenstocks, and my references, and the way I carried myself, it was all German.

I forced myself into a new story, one that said behave Portuguese, and I started to perform belonging. I pushed my parents to buy me a new backpack and new clothes, like a round collar shirt I hated, just to fit in. And you know the funny thing? Back in Germany, all I dreamt about was being blonde.

This in-between feeling made me write stories to cope with it, and to feel seen. So, look around, and I mean it. Look to the person behind you, to the person next to you, please. How many times have you changed who you are, your tone, your clothes, perhaps even the way you love, just to fit into one narrative?

We bump into each other, we wave at our neighbors, and yet, our stories remain unheard. Are we a community, or just people sharing time and space? We think community or belonging is about sameness, you know, same beginnings, same milestones, same endings.

But what if the real glue between us isn’t sameness, but the courage to live our own really messy human stories? What if instead of asking where do I fit in, we ask what story do I bring? That shift turns us from spectators to co-creators, and from performing to really showing up. And as we scroll our life away, I think this is deeply needed.

My old shyness made me help people find their voice as a communication coach. And today I want to share with you how public storytelling helps us build stronger communities and find our voice as well. So, my first real taste of public storytelling was Humans of New York.

I stumbled on a post and I saw an old street cleaner sitting in a bench. He was remembering how he used to play there with his little brother, and how he used to protect him from the monsters of the neighborhood. That park was their safe place, like my father’s legs were mine. So, different story, different time, but same emotion.

That hit me. Stories turn strangers into people we care about. Brandon Stanton wasn’t trying to save the world, to preach, or even to sell. He just listened to stories, he took pictures, and he shared their exact words. It started a global craving for stories, of regular people, anonymous citizens, like us, not celebrities. And why? Because they resonate.

There was also The Moth, a live stage where people tell their personal stories. Just guts and grace. In a dark room full of people, they cry, they laugh, and they breathe in sync. And what about Human Library? Even better. You don’t borrow books, you borrow people. And you sit with them face to face.

Someone society has deep stigmas about. And you read through their life with an honest conversation. What these projects have in common is that they were built with and for community. They started small, and they had volunteers who believed in the power of stories to create change. No fancy setup, no forcing, just curiosity and presence.

What moves me most is what they teach us. Empathy doesn’t come from headlines or from data. It’s emotional education by direct exposure without someone else’s filter. In public storytelling, you don’t end with a solid, moral conclusion. Each one has the freedom to pick what they want. And that’s totally the opposite of how I was taught stories at home or at school. If you missed that one correct answer, you failed the test. Do you remember that?

Now, I know what some of you might be thinking: “Oh, there she is, telling that we should reveal ourselves to the world.” Well, no. That’s exactly the myth I want to break. Being yourself doesn’t mean being by yourself. Personal stories are not narcissism. They are invitation. Have you ever wondered why so many TED talks have personal stories? It’s not coincidence, and it’s backed by science.

Researcher Paul Zak explains that when we tell an emotionally engaging story with a good structure, you trigger oxytocin, the hormone that is responsible for trust, connection, even community. So, when we share something, and it doesn’t mean a secret, it means sharing something real and raw, meaning being vulnerable, you open the door, not to be stared up to, but to invite people to do the same. And when you listen, you often find yourself and you act.

Like in the project Hart Verhaalt in The Hague, where they bring together communities that often don’t cross paths, like older Dutch migrants and Pakistani women. They tell their story, they clap, but afterwards, they collaborate. They reflect and they discuss with the audience. And sometimes they start projects inside the city, when before that, they ignored their existence.

When we find meaning together, we co-create future. When we find meaning together, we co-create relations. And eventually, I grabbed the mic and I became a storyteller. And I became a volunteer, and I became the co-host of the Portuguese edition of Storytelling Lisboa, where I welcome between 80 to 100 people. Portuguese, foreigners, and even cats! All colors, all ages, like the perfect Portuguese patchwork.

One day I told a story about my body, about validation, about sex, and still not being a mother. Women cried with me, womb to womb. At the end of the event, while I was putting away the chairs, a person came up to me, a young man, 18, 20 years. And he said, “You’re gonna make it.” And we gave a hug, strong and lasting. And for a moment, he was the storyteller. So I whispered, “I think you have a story too.” And he said, “I do. But I’m not ready yet. Thank you for sharing yours. Now I see you.” I have just met a man with a wound like mine.

We had more in common than gender could guess. And it’s from these brief unexpected moments that we realize that we are all carrying stories, even when we don’t know how to tell them yet. When we are honest, you don’t control who you touch, but you create the space for it.

And nowadays I can tell you that I wear my leggings and my Birkenstocks with no shame. We have built something beautiful in Lisbon. It’s a monthly comeback to stories around an imaginary campfire. But not to retell stories that no longer serve us from generation to generation. We tell new ones, open to all the human experience, with self-acceptance and with agency. That’s why I believe that these places are truly important, especially in countries like Portugal, full of identities and still afraid to speak out. We are quiet, we dismiss ourselves.

So, in case you’re wondering, how can I create such spaces? Let me share with you five key elements.

First one: Warmth. I feel welcomed. A cozy space, warm lights, a clear tone, a group of volunteers that welcome you and enable storytelling practices so you can feel safe.

Second: Empathy. I’m not alone. We echo stories, not to fix you. We share and we recognize emotions, and each one is accountable for the way they show up.

Third: Perspective. I never thought about it this way. Thematic events, they help us broaden our perspectives. We see the experiences on the same topic with different lenses, but the same humanity.

Fourth: Inclusivity. I respect. No hate speech. When everyone is included, we grow. You don’t have to agree, but you respect.

Fifth: Dialogue. Tell me more. Curiosity opens dialogue, and conversations build community. And you know what’s the best of it? You don’t need permission. Anyone can create the space, anyone can hold space.

So let me close with this. We are made of cells, but mostly we are made of stories. Stories shape our beliefs. Stories shape the way we act, we connect, and how we will be remembered. We keep reteling stories that no longer serve us, or even worse, we allow other people to silence them, or to write them for us.

And that ties us to a single thread, a single narrative. By sharing our imperfect stories and truly listen to others, we are reclaiming back community as a space of belonging and not of conformity, so we can weave a web of stories and threads that holds us across divisions.

Sometimes you go far away to find community, but look around, and you may find it. Storytelling is the way of saying, “I see you, I hear you, I’m here too.” So this is my final call: Tell your story, even if it’s messy, even if your voice shakes. Create space, build community, not to fit in, not to perform, to belong.

Obrigada.

Back to you…

Okay, so now you’re inspired to share your story, regardless of who you are and the mess you’ve made. But if you’re still hesitating to share, think about how the connections we make through storytelling provide that sense of belonging we all yearn for. Let others know they’re not alone. That a story told is a story heard.

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