“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” — Maya Angelou
This quote from Maya Angelou hits me with a familiar, almost visceral weight. The idea of an untold story is something I’ve felt deeply, especially over these past months. Living with MS, there are days when it feels as though my story has become so complex, so unpredictable, that putting it into words feels impossible. And yet, the need to tell it—to bring it to life and share it—feels just as urgent.
There is something both powerful and painful in carrying a story that hasn’t yet found its voice. Stories grow and transform as they sit within us, gathering meaning and weight. Sometimes, it’s easier to let them sit, to let the unspoken words become a quiet echo, rather than a declaration. But the longer we keep these stories inside, the more they begin to shape us in silence. They become the “what-ifs” and the “somedays,” pressing against us, sometimes so gently that we forget they’re there and other times with such intensity that it feels like we might break open from holding them.
For me, the journey with MS has been filled with stories that ache to be told. The day-to-day experiences, the unexpected strength I find, the raw moments of fear or exhaustion, the victories that are invisible to everyone else—each one is a part of a story that matters. These aren’t just experiences to endure; they’re lessons, revelations, and pieces of myself that I want to honor and understand. And sharing them, I’m finding, helps make sense of my world and invites others into it, too.
To keep a story locked away, whether it’s about pain or joy, struggle or triumph, is to deny it the chance to live and breathe. It’s like holding a seed that could grow into something if only it were set free. When I write about my experiences, even if they’re messy and incomplete, they come alive in a way that makes me feel seen—not just by others, but by myself. Writing and sharing my story is an act of both release and self-acceptance. It’s allowing the story to exist outside of me, to find its own place in the world.
Every story, even the difficult ones, has a life of its own once it’s told. It’s no longer just a weight in my mind or a feeling I carry around. It’s something real, with its own shape and voice. And the beauty of sharing it is that it opens doors for others to share theirs, to feel seen and connected, and to know they’re not alone.
As I tell my story, the agony shifts; it becomes a balm, a point of connection, a bridge. And through that bridge, I find healing, meaning, and purpose in the journey I never expected to take. There’s no greater agony than an untold story, but there’s also no greater freedom than finding the courage to share it.
The Untold Story
There’s a weight within, silent, deep,
A story woven tight in sleep.
It presses softly, day by day,
Its voice unheard, kept tucked away.
Each word unspoken, each line unwritten,
Lingers sharp, with meaning hidden.
It waits for breath, a spark, a sound,
For freedom in the air around.
A tale untold is a heavy thing,
A quiet ache that hums and sings.
Its pain lies not in what it holds,
But in the silence, dark and cold.
So I will write, I’ll let it free,
This story that’s been shaping me.
With every word, the weight will fade,
And in its place, new light is made.
Much love,
E.P.