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machado: sharing stories come at a cost, but it's worth it

stories, especially the ones about fear, loss, trauma, bring the teller back to their dark days, and remind the listener of theirs. but they also have tremendous healing power.

stories make room for recovery
sharing stories improve mental health and physical symptoms. getty

a bunch of years ago, i was hosting a weekend meeting for people living with leukemia and the people who cared about them. it was a regular thing, once a month, about 30 of us would gather on the second floor of this old, loft-like space on gerrard street in toronto — it smelled of old books and had creaky wood floors and brightly coloured sitting pillows piled in the corners.  the building was known as a “newcomer hub” and offered free services like resume building and typing for people who were new to canada.

it was a time in my life when so much seemed uncertain. there had been some glitches in my blood work, my dad was nearing the end of his life, my brother was getting treatment for liver cancer, and i was trying to figure out how to make a living from patient advocacy. those were blurry days, the kind where you wake up in the morning and all you can think about is when you get to sleep again — hard, sad sometimes, and strained with anxiety.
but amid all of this, these meetings offered a bunch of things that never changed. when i walked in the building the morning before a meeting, standing in the doorway to the community café in a bright orange apron would be majaki, a quiet woman who said she was from somalia. she would be arranging freshly baked carrot muffins on a large blue plastic tray.

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“miss lisa, would you like brown sugar or white,” she’d always ask, as she put a large carafe of coffee — the church bazaar kind, stainless steel, with a little black plastic flip nozzle on the bottom — and a white ceramic teapot on another tray.
upstairs, i’d arrange the different sized chairs in a circle — black office chairs, wooden dinner table chairs, vintage chrome chairs with flowered upholstery seats — careful to put them near the large yellow velvet couch in case someone chose not to be with the crowd.

somewhere between the questions and the tears, there would be stories

as people arrived, they’d grab a muffin and a chair, and chat. many of them knew each other already, having met at other meetings or conferences — some had even attended each other’s weddings and birthday celebrations. but there was always a first-timer. someone still reeling from their diagnosis, or maybe waiting for test results. a few times, a family member or a friend of a patient who was too sick to come would join us.
and then the magic would begin. somewhere between the questions and the tears, there would be stories. really great, inspirational, compelling stories that, as the one listening, made you feel bitter and distraught about how unforgiving life can be, and at the same time, in awe of our ability to cope, hope and keep going.

the tellers of the story can feel moved as well.   after all, we know how good it feels to see someone else nod in agreement and understanding as we share our most fearful worry. that wonderful back-and-forth of you-tell, i-tell — the exchange of similar experiences — can erase the sense of isolation, otherness and loss that can come with a traumatic experience like living with a scary disease.

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sharing stories improve mental health and physical symptoms

in fact, many studies have shown that sharing stories connect us as humans, help us build bonds and eases loneliness. it also has vast benefits beyond mental health, according to harvard health, improving physical symptoms and quality of life. in psychology today, seth gillihan says that telling your story of trauma helps to reduce shame, lessens the trigger factor of memories, decreases fear while increasing strength and helps make sense of the bad thing that happened. 
but there’s something else about stories that we sometimes forget. despite their power for good and inspiration, stories — especially the ones about fear, loss, trauma — come at a cost. they bring the teller back to their dark days, and remind the listener of theirs. (i once had a panic attack after i shared in detail on stage for the first time what it was like to find out that i had cancer.) there’s no question that revisiting — or being reminded of — negative things that deeply affected you, has an impact. 
this came up recently on a call with the panellists of a discussion that i am moderating on march 4 about weight management (by the way, obesity matters has offered our readers complimentary tickets if you are interested in attending. more info below). the focus is on a book that each panellist contributed their story to called in your own words (free to download) — a collection of letters that people living with obesity wrote to their younger selves.

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as we explored the messages that each panellist wanted to get across to the audience, someone wondered out loud whether or not there should be some kind of support available for people who find these heart-wrenching, emotional and upsetting stories — that end on a positive, empowering note — triggering or distressing.

we decided that yes, it would be healthy to have a place and a moment for everyone to debrief, including the speakers, if needed. one of the panelists even offered his skills as a therapist. so we made a plan to make time for people to exhale, and possibly find respite from the memories, feelings and thoughts that might have been brought on by the panel discussion. q uite possibly, this will be where some of the magic of this conference happens — not only as another opportunity for people  to share, discuss, comfort and compare, but also an important chance to process, recover and move forward. 

certainly, we could all use a little more of that.
 
come join healthing at the your health matters summit, hosted by obesity matters on march 4 in brampton, ontario. if you are interested in weight management, email info@healthing.ca for a complimentary ticket.
lisa machado is the executive producer of healthing.ca. follow her @iamlisamachado.
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lisa machado
lisa machado

lisa machado began her journalism career as a financial reporter with investor's digest and then rogers media. after a few years editing and writing for a financial magazine, she tried her hand at custom publishing and then left to launch a canadian women's magazine with a colleague. after being diagnosed with a rare blood cancer, lisa founded the canadian cml network and shifted her focus to healthcare advocacy and education.

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