Share Your Story
Courage is contagious. Let me go first.
Yesterday’s Daily Word devotion says: “I share my story in the spirit of service.”
That line stopped me.
Because that is exactly why I wrote Wine, Women, & Weed.
Not for attention.
Not for controversy.
Not even for catharsis.
But in the spirit of service.
Two years ago, I was hospitalized with chest pain and a dysregulated nervous system. My body was breaking down under the weight of stress, grief, and suppressed emotion. I could feel how much of my life had been lived in survival mode.
And something inside me said: If you make it through this, you tell the truth.
So I did.
I wrote about love — not the Hallmark version, but the kind forged through childhood instability, identity confusion, betrayal, surviving suicide, grief, reinvention, and healing. As I shared recently in an interview, love became the lens for everything: loving my mother despite hardship, loving romantic partners through chaos, and finally loving myself enough to transform.
That kind of writing requires courage.
I wrote about:
Growing up with Adverse Childhood Experiences.
Survival patterns like people-pleasing and silence.
Losing my husband to suicide.
Losing my home.
Questioning my identity.
Rebuilding financially and spiritually.
Healing through cannabis and holistic medicine.
Wrestling with faith in seasons when it felt thin.
Rediscovering love and joy again.
Many people live these stories.
Few write them down.
It would have been easier to stay polished. To keep the professional résumé clean. To share only the success chapters. To protect my reputation.
But healing doesn’t happen in hiding.
When we share our stories — carefully, thoughtfully, honestly — we give others permission to look at their own.
You do not have to publish a memoir.
But you do have to stop pretending you don’t have one.
Your story matters.
Your childhood shaped you.
Your grief shaped you.
Your coping mechanisms shaped you.
Your reinventions shaped you.
And beneath all of that is something sacred.
For years, I believed I had to earn love through achievement. Through service. Through performance. Writing this book was my declaration that I am worthy of love simply because I exist.
And so are you.
If you are carrying shame…
If you are carrying grief…
If you are carrying fear…
If you are carrying secrets…
Start by writing for yourself.
Get a spiral notebook.
Tell the truth.
Let the pen move.
You might discover, as I did, that survival is not the same as love.
And love begins when we stop negotiating our worth.
I share my story in the spirit of service — not because it is extraordinary, but because it is human. If it helps one person feel less alone, more courageous, more beloved, then it was worth every vulnerable page.
If you’re curious about what it looks like to tell the whole story — from wine bars to widowhood, from cannabis reform to spiritual rebuilding — I invite you to read Wine, Women, & Weed: A Memoir of Faith, Hope, & Love.
https://www.elisabethmack.com/
And if this resonates, subscribe. There is much more to come. I have pages of content from upcoming interviews and conversations, and I plan to keep sharing in the spirit of service.
Courage is contagious.
Let me go first.
With love, Elisabeth
