So What's Your Story?

“It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living, I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.”

–The Invitation by Oriah

Unlike the metamorphosis that occurs to a butterfly or a frog, telling a story will probably not dramatically alter your character, physical structure, or even circumstances. However, as a storyteller, you can imagine it did.

I want to know what your story is…

7 Billion Stories in the World

I don’t care what you do or what you own.  I just want to know who you are. What about your uniqueness, the experiences you’ve had and the learnings you’ve gained. I want to know your story.

So what is your story?  Everyone has one. No two stories are the same. There are over 7 billion people in this world and none are like you. You are unique. Your entire life journey including your upbringing, challenges, hard learned lessons, your experiences, achievements and gifts, are all a series of footprints that have brought you to this very moment in time as you read these words.

Every person you walk or drive past on the street has their own story. Every person in front of you in line at the grocery store has their own story. Every friend and work colleague in your life has their own story. The old man who lives up the street and wanders past my house each day has his own story. The girl on the bus sitting opposite me right now who has tears in her eyes, she has her own story. The boy in the library who never stops laughing, even when his mother constantly asks him to be quiet, he has his own story too.

Think about the millions of moments, the series of events that leads each person to cross your path. Who are they really underneath that exterior? Where did they come from? What do they long for? What makes them tick? Will you ask?

Life is a tapestry of people weaving in and out of your life, people come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. Everyone has something to offer and share with you. Imagine treating every person you encounter, no matter how fleeting, as an intriguing story waiting to be told. But the story can only be told if someone asks to hear it. Will you ask? That person you see standing before you, no matter who they are, young or old, rich or poor, angry or kind, is like a blockbuster movie ready to enthrall you. But, first you have to buy a ticket.

Cocktail Conversations

As I stood in a room full of people at a cocktail party once, I realized that every opening conversation was dominated by this question, “What do you do?” We seek to understand and define people by their ‘doing’ in the world. For some reason we categorize and rank people’s worth in this world by what they “do.” Does what you do matter more than who you are? No. What you do is only a small part of who you are. Do we care about each other enough, and are we interested enough in what we can learn from each other, to stop asking “What do you do?” and start asking “Who are you?  What is your story?”

So, I’d love to ask you something, and I’m not asking a rhetorical question.  I really want to know…

• What is your story?
• Where were you born?
• Where do you live now?
• What makes you smile?
• What is the most important life lesson you’ve learned so far?
• What is your deepest fear?
• What is your greatest dream for your life?
• Who are you?

Normalizing the Question

There is only one way that we can normalize this “What is your story?” question in our society. And that is by starting to ask it, and by each of us individually being willing to answer it wholeheartedly, knowing that the person asking it genuinely wants to know.

Superficial chit chat about what we “do” and what we “own” doesn’t have to dominate our interactions with those closest to us or with complete strangers.

I don’t know you at all. You’re a complete stranger to me. But I genuinely want to know your answers.

I’ll go first…

Here’s my story.  

My name is Cassandra Leigh Taylor. Personally, I’m not a huge fan of the long formal name, so I go by Cass or Cassie. Only a select few can get away with actually calling me Cassandra [my mother included when she disapproves of something I’ve done].  I am the youngest of three children in my family. I wanted to note that to make sure that I can confirm that being the baby child really does has its advantages. You get away with much more, tattling is expected, and all the special privileges, everything that you’ve heard is definitely true. Moving forward, my sister wasn’t around much in my childhood, not because of any terrible thing or anything, but more for due to our significant age difference.  Technically, my sister is my half-sister, though that doesn’t make us any less siblings. I spent a lot of time growing up looking at her pictures, mailing her handmade drawings of her favorite cartoons, writing letters, etc. She was very much a part of my childhood without necessarily being present. There is more to discuss with the topic of my sister, but that’s for later in my story. 

My family owns a business and has since before I was born.  With that knowledge, it is to be expected that my parents were very busy; mostly my dad. Now that I’m older, I can see that my mom took some time away from the business to raise my brother and I. She spent all of her time with us, and I can’t imagine that it was pleasant all the time. My brother and I were wretched as kids. My mom was great to us. We had movie nights and camp out in the living room. She let me camp out in my blanket nest under the dining room table whenever I wasn’t feeling well. She let us run up and down the aisles at the store after hours while she did her work. She would get up early to take us to school and make sure to pick us up at the bus stop every day. She would help me with my homework, and make me cute outfits from really cool patterns she’d get at the fabric store. My mom was really the best.

As a kid, my parents got my brother and I into the youth bowling leagues. It became our family affair. We were all in bowling leagues, we would all go to state, we would all get trophies and medals and patches. It became something really big for me as a kid. We would hang out there with all the adults on the adult league nights and would go every Saturday morning for our youth leagues. Everybody knew who I was in the bowling community, though, I’m sure that was just based on who my parents were.  [huge fast forward, that hasn’t changed. Everyone in town knows me because of who my parents are.] 

Being a girl didn’t stop me from doing stuff with all the boys. My dad got me into shooting archery at a young age also. It was one of my summer hobbies, up until I got 3rd place in a shoot and received my first trophy at the age of 12. Around that time, I started thinking spiders were gross and I faded away from the tomboyish charm that I had. 

Around the age of 14 I started getting into the local youth groups, mainly because that’s what all my friends at school were doing. We were never really raised in the church community. We were just raised to be good people.  I don’t think that it was because my family every had anything against the church, it was more just that instilling us with good manners and good qualities like honesty and integrity, were the basics of being a good natured human being.  

I came to find out that it wasn’t exactly something that I wanted, it was more what the popular kids wanted.  Most of the way through elementary, I was more of a follower. I wanted to be part of the popular crowd, but I never really did anything to try to join the popular crowd. So around Jr High, I broke free from that morale and tried to find out who I was as a person [a young adult who had no idea what i wanted kind of person]  I dyed my hair, I wore my makeup how I wanted, I used the money I got from my job at the family business to buy my own clothes for my own self-expression, I listened to new music, I wanted to pave my own way. Some would call it going through the “goth phase” but I still call it my chance to break away from the heard. I made new friends that liked me for who I was, like my personality and sense of humor, instead of because I just agreed with everything they said or laughed at all their stupid jokes. EVENTUALLY, I did fade out of that phase, but not for a few years. I mean, I still to this day dye my hair black, but that’s more to accentuate my fair porcelain skin. I got involved in extracurriculars including volleyball, basketball, softball, track, vocal, plays/musicals, speech and drama, and my part time job and small excuse for a social life. But my few friends and great experiences lead up to a lot of good memories. 

A huge event that I should mention from my life was in 2005. I was close to getting my school permit, so my family bought a used car for my brother and I for school. That car had more in store for our young lives than I had ever anticipated. 

We had had that car for a total of 3 days before something tragic happened. To spare you the gory details, I'm sure you guessed that an accident occurred. Of the 4 people in the car, only two survived. My brother...and me. It was devastating for the other families involved because our families were close.  The other two in the vehicle were Sam Ahrens and Nathan Bass. My brother's best friend, and my best friend's brother. I was in the hospital for a couple of weeks and I missed the funerals. I had a massive head injury, a concussion, some cuts and bruises, a huge seat belt burn and a bite through the tongue. I was out of school for a month, and out of sports for a whole year. It was worse for my brother. He broke his leg, I want to say that he broke a rib, but what he endured emotionally was so much worse than anything he could have endured physically.

After the crash, he was still conscious and aware. He no only had to see it all, but he had to climb out of the vehicle to see the wreckage and ruins. I will never know what he saw. To this day, I still have not seen the photos of scene. But beyond that, he went back to school much earlier than I did, only to deal with the worst form of bullying I've ever seen in my entire life. People who didn't understand what had happened, who didn't consider the accident, who didn't know us personally or the relationship we had with the boys, called him things like murderer, killer, and things of that nature. He was tormented not just by the other kids, but by his own mind. He never let it show, but a sister knows. My heart wept for him. To this day, I'm not sure how he really feels about the whole ordeal, but he has accepted what has happened that it wasn't his fault.

This experience, though horrid and unforeseen, has taught me to take the day as it is and make the most of it; To not your loved ones for granted; To appreciate the little things and get past the things that don't really matter; because we don't know how long we'll be here, we don't know what we're going to have time for, or what we're going to miss out on.

Now that the water works have burst, it's a good segway into the next piece of my story. This is where we get back to my mother. As a typical teenage girl, I went through my "angst" phase. I fought her every step of the way. Looking back now, I feel like I was the worst teenager ever. I don't know how my parents tolerated me, my mouth, and my actions. I know it is just what teenagers do, but that's no excuse. Growing up my mom and I were best friends, and then I went straight into hating her. Not like truly hating her, but I didn't understand at the time that she was trying to help me make better decisions for myself. I respect that now.

None that ever lasted more than a few months. High school was really my time to branch out my personality and find my style. Where people really started to get to know the real me and know me for more than what my parents were. I had a few semi serious relationships while I was in high school. At the time, being that it was all I knew, I thought I was in love. I thought it was all I was destined for. I blew off my friends to spend all my time with the guy of the month [not to imply that I got around, but there were a few suitors]. That was until my senior year of high school.

...

Oh my senior year of high school. I fell in love at first sight [or so I thought].  The next portion I'm going to speak about was a good portion of my young adulthood. His name was Eli. He was the only boy that I couldn't just walk up and talk to without stumbling over my words and getting so flushed in the face that I thought i was having hot flashes. So I knew that there was something about him that I just couldn't ignore. Eventually, as the story goes, we talked, we dated, we loved. He was my first real and serious relationship. Equivalent of 7 years passed together. I'm not going to go into detail about the good and the bad of this relationship, because we could be here for days while I talk about that alone. But I will tell you what I learned.

Through our conquest, I learned what it was like to be loved, to be put on a pedestal, to be betrayed, to belong, to be burned, and to stand up for myself. My experiences with Eli made me the person that I am today. I now know, in detail, what I want in a person, and what I don't want. I can honestly say that I am a more complete woman now for having had the opportunity to learn and grow with him. Of course, now I know better. These sorts of relationships are the reason that for so long, I projected out that true love was a myth. 

Let's backtrack for a second. Aside from my first real long term boyfriend, I got a violent shove into adulthood as I graduated high school and had to start making real decisions that I wasn't ready to make. I didn't know what it was like to make life altering decisions, like choosing a college or a major, or a place to live, or what type of job to get, or how to pay for all the adult things that I was now in charge of. I was barely used to choosing my own lunch every day, let alone preparing for life. I wasn't ready to leave my tiny podunk little hole-in-the-wall town. I wasn't ready to start figuring out life yet. I felt like I had just barely started living. So I needed help.

This is just another instance when my mom was there for me, even when I was being a total cunt to her. And I don't use that word. She helped me decided on a college and a major and an apartment. And when I say helped me decided, I mean she decided for me.  I started out in a cheap community college right out of high school. I knew enough, logically, to not waste my time and money in a place that cost an arm and a leg. But don't get me wrong, when I say cheap community college, I don't mean that it wasn't worth the education that I received. In fact, it had the best teachers I've ever had! But I started out in Graphic Design. My mom knew that I loved art and I loved to draw and made the two and two connections. So that was that.  I spent 2 years there full time, 1 year part time, before I made a realization that I was mediocre at graphic design. Like better than an average Jane on the street, but not good enough to really make a career out of it. Which lead me to take some time off. I looked at it like if I can't make a decent career out of it, what's the point in finishing?  

Now I understand that it looks better to be able to finish something than it does to say that I've tried a few different times. After taking a year off or so off of school, I decided to go back for Accounting. Huge 180, right?  My job at the time gave me the bookkeeping skills working behind a counter which led me to that decision.  Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed every minute of my time in my accounting classes. It was a math problem to me. Which I loved. Math and problem solving. Those were my things. But unfortunate events ensued that lead to me dropping out because I didn't have the time to dedicate to class. At that time in my life, I had to make the financially responsible decision and choose work over school. I was paying for school out of pocket at that time, working 3 jobs to put myself through school. Needless to say, I was busy. 

Eventually, I had a chance to go back again to try and finish my accounting degree, but by then, my ambitions had changed. My fascinations had altered enough to make accounting not fun for me anymore. Which in turn lead to me making another huge decision. I could quit and try to really figure out what I wanted out of my education, OR I could spend the time and money to finish and not really follow through with being happy. I chose to figure my life out.  

By now I'm 25. I have no degree. I had been going to school off and on for about 7 years. I had a failing relationship. And all at the same time, all of my closest friends were going through the best parts of their lives. One graduated from a university as valedictorian and received a job in her specified career. Another met the man of her dreams and was recently engaged. Another was about to bring a beautiful baby boy into the world. It just seemed like everyone that was important to me, that helped me gauge the level of life I should have been on, were all leaving me in their dust. Figuring out life like pros, while I was just a kid in an adult's body. Didn't have a clue. I knew enough to go to work, pay my bills, eat food and sleep on a regular basis.  Everything else? Not a fucking clue! 

The next two years flew by doing the same things every week. 

Go to work.

Go Home.

Go to work.

Go Home.

Go to work.

Go Home.

Every damn day. That was my life. I didn't branch out. I didn't do anything fun because I didn't have the time to do it. I had a few other relationships within that time, trying to learn how to be in an adult relationship is a lot harder than just acting the part. 

FAST FORWARD TO TODAY.....

Today, I am 27 years old. I own my own home. I have a few thousand in credit card debt, but my car is paid off. I'm trying to find a better job to help pay for my mortgage. I'm accepted to Iowa State University to be enrolled in the spring of 2018. I'm more adult now than I have ever been.  I have an adorable little kitty that is now currently 6 years old. [I got her when she was 6 weeks old] I have a few friends, but none of them live anywhere near me. And I have the most amazing boyfriend that I could every ask for. And When I say that, I don't mean like the relationships I've had in the past. This is the healthiest relationship that I have ever been in. We talk about everything, even the uncomfortable things that nobody wants to talk about. We haven't breached into sharing our toilet time yet, BUT I think I'm wearing him down. *wink wink!*  

I won't go into a lot of detail but lets just say it took a long time to be upgraded to girlfriend in this relationship. If you know why, know that you're blessed to be special to us. The patience and sincerity that has been put into this has really truly made me realize how important it is to know who you're with. Inside and out. 

To make a long story a little bit shorter. My story is that through everything that I have been though, I'm a better person for all of it. I know that I've been through a lot in my 27 years. More than I feel most people would every need to go through. But throughout it all, I'm grateful. I am who I am because of the things that have shaped me.  My upbringing, my experiences, my thoughts and feelings, my need for self expression. All of it.

My perception of life is forever changed. As I hope that stories like this help you with yours.


Now....
What is your story?