Several messages came into my life in the last 24 hours, and I felt compelled to write about them.

The first was a Facebook post by Michelle Hughes whose blog My Journey to Just Live chronicles her efforts to thrive even while coping with a life-limiting incurable cancer. As I shared in my post Just live—whose title was inspired by Michelle's motto—the PEI mother was diagnosed with an ultra rare sarcoma cancer in 2021, just three weeks after the birth of her third child. She was told that she had three years to live. But she says that she refuses to be defined within a three-year lifetime. She's determined to "just live" and to do so for years to come. She shares her story, in part, to raise funds for research and, in part, to inspire her tens of thousands of followers to appreciate every day.

But her post last night was heartbreaking. It's not because it contained bad news; indeed, she's training to do her first triathlon this year. It was heartbreaking because of a harsh criticism she received. She wrote: "I received a message from one of you last night that crushed me, Literally left me heartbroken and up all night. Made me question if I should continue with my blog.... This person was vocal about my page being all about me, how they are sick about reading all about me."

Michelle went on to say that, in 2023, she lost many personal friends, including some to cancer. She said that she thinks about them all the time and that she lives with survivor's guilt because she's still here. She added: "I can only appreciate that for some of you, that must be so hard."

She concluded her post with these words: "Mommas, it’s your personal choice to follow along or simply bow out, I know I’m not for everyone and I’ve never intended it to be this way."

The second message I received was an email this morning from Alison Wearing, a writer and memoir writing coach. She states that she is often asked why she bothers to write, when she could be doing something more "useful" or fun. She admits that she sometimes struggles to answer that question. She recorded her response in a short video. Alison says that the drive to understand oneself and to honour one's life and story is a primal desire of human beings. It's rooted in the need to connect—just as our ancestors told stories around a fire and people (mostly women) swapped narratives around a kitchen table. Stories are how we connect, she says; they're how we weave a community and a culture.

Transforming a personal story into art has even greater value, Alison insists. While "memoirs are sometimes called narcissistic, or navel-gazing or self-indulgent," says Alison, they're really an act of generosity.

"Most often, what we're called to share is whatever gift is on the other side of the story of what occurred in our lives—what made us who we are today. What did we gain from this? What insight, what wisdom can we pass on to someone else as a result of having lived what we did?" Alison points out that the difference between a memoir and a personal story written in a journal or an anecdote recounted at a party is that "a memoir offers meaning and insight—it offers something to the reader." Sharing our story is like sending a balloon out into the world or a message in a bottle. "We don't actually know who is going to find it or for whom it is going to have meaning," says Alison.

As Alison says, when people like Michelle or the late Nicky Newman share their stories publicly, they never know who will read them. By and large, their followers are grateful and supportive. But not always, as Michelle discovered yesterday. So why do people like Michelle and Nicky open themselves up, giving up a measure of their privacy? I believe it's because they are committed to a greater good, such as expanding awareness about a disease, raising funds for research, helping individuals facing similar hardships, inspiring others to live in the moment, and helping readers feel less alone.

Memoirs, blogs, social media posts are, by their very nature, personal. As May Sarton wrote in Journal of a Solitude, serious writers can't help but reflect themselves in their writing. She continued: "And at some point I believe one has to stop holding back for fear of alienating some imaginary reader or relative or friend, and come out with personal truth." In short, she said, "we have to be willing to go naked."

Sarton also said that not everyone is able, or willing, to give their story a chance to be of universal significance. She wrote: "One must believe that private dilemmas are, if deeply examined, universal, and so, if expressed, have a human value beyond the private."

Michelle's story, Nicky's story, and countless others like them have value. Not for all people. Not for everyone all the time. But for many, the insights they've shared while going through something hard and the meaning they've found in life's difficult moments can inspire others to develop their own insights and to derive their own meaning.