Turning Life’s Mess Into a Story: Why We Write Our Wrongs

Let’s be honest—most of us are just walking around like real-life Batman, except instead of fighting crime in a cool suit, we’re out here subconsciously trying to fix our own past mistakes, rewrite our traumas, or undo the absolute mess someone else made of our lives. Some people go to therapy. Others, like me, write books, become nurses, or start podcasts to talk about it endlessly.

See, my first book? Yeah, the main character grew up in addiction and later married an addict—what an absolutely wild coincidence, since that totally didn’t parallel my own life at all. (Spoiler: It did.) And nursing? Did I become a nurse because I just love the sight of bodily fluids and 12-hour shifts? No. I became a nurse because I clearly thought I could fix people, even though, fun fact: that’s not actually our job description.

But this isn’t just about me (though I do enjoy making it about me). The truth is, most of us do this. We turn our past pain into purpose, sometimes without even realizing it. Some people who were bullied as kids become therapists, teachers, or life coaches. Those who grew up with financial struggles become financial advisors (or get really into couponing). If you had an overbearing, controlling parent, congratulations! You’re probably now a free-spirited artist who refuses to own a planner.

And it’s not just us regular folks. Some of the greatest writers, artists, and public figures have done the same. Maya Angelou turned her childhood trauma into poetry and activism that changed the world. J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter during some of the hardest years of her life, using storytelling as both an escape and a form of healing. Jeanette Walls transformed her difficult upbringing into The Glass Castle, proving that even the most painful past can become a bestselling memoir. And let’s not forget David Sedaris, who turned his life’s awkward, messy moments into hilarious essays that made him a literary icon.

It’s fascinating how we all try to balance the scales of our own life stories—sometimes successfully, sometimes with the grace of a baby deer on ice. But there’s power in taking the narrative and twisting it into something useful. Writing our wrongs (or other people’s) isn’t just a therapeutic exercise—it’s an act of rebellion, a way to say, “Ha! You thought that would break me? Well, joke’s on you, because now I have a platform and a microphone.”

Speaking of microphones—this is exactly why we’re toying around with the idea of a podcast. Because what’s better than fixing your past through personal reinvention? Talking about it loudly so everyone else can hear it, too. (Stay tuned.)

Now, let me know—what’s your thing? What are you doing to right your wrongs or the ones dumped on you? Are you out here saving the world, one therapy session at a time? Did you open a yoga studio because your nervous system has been shot since childhood? Or, like me, are you just writing books and pretending it’s totally normal that all your characters have a suspiciously familiar backstory? Drop your answers below. Let’s compare notes on our collective attempts to turn trauma into content!