In support group, we were asked to tell our story. Every single time we attended. Sometimes, at tge first meeting (or two... or five...) they attended, some people could only choke out their name and that of the baby they had lost. Sometimes the story would pour out of them in minute detail, going on for half an hour. But we were always encouraged to tell our story, or some version of it, at every meeting.
Over time, for most of us, the story got (at least a little bit) easier to tell. Sometimes, a new detail that we'd never heard before would pop out. By telling our story and sharing it with others, we processed what had happened to us in our own minds, worked through the grief and pain. Some of the raw grief & pain subsided. And knowing that others were listening, empathizing, understanding, made us feel less alone and freakish. (If your friends & family members find it difficult to listen to your story, you need to find someone who will. That's where support groups, in real life or even online, are so helpful.)
I watched a wonderful story on CBS Sunday Morning today about a 93-year-old World War II veteran who began volunteering at a war museum and telling his story to a new generation. And in doing so, he finally laid to rest one of the ghosts that had haunted him for almost 60 years. After I watched the segment & finished wiping my eyes, I looked at dh & said, "The power of telling your story... the whole story!"
Watch or read & see if you agree with me. : )