Becoming Restoried Reflections
#1 | Introduction
I first met Michael McRay through his Ted Talk in December 2022, when he shared that the root of curiosity is to care or heal and the root of respect is to look again. I paused the video, took a sip of my homemade London fog, and curled my fingers around the warm red mug. I like the sound my rings make against the curly-haired girl beaming in the acrylic enamel. Though I know she was painted for marketing the 1950s Rice Krispies ad on my mug, her cheeks were saturated with a joy that I envied.
My window was cracked open to the white winter frosting, leaking ashy smoke burning off the end of my candle’s charred wick. I had just blown it out to leave, thinking I was now too uncomfortable to stay in my office.
But something kept me in my seat.
As a former D1 and National Team athlete, I used to pride myself on carrying a lot without saying much. But then, a childhood friend died by suicide in high school. I attempted suicide in 2017 at the height of my athletic career. My therapist died by suicide in 2020. And although I’ve ventured into suicide research and written extensively about my experiences, I’ve inadvertently hidden behind sports and metaphors. Did you notice my opening paragraph? Yeah. Guilty.
Only recently, as I walk into this realm of ‘professional writer’ (whatever that means), have my editors told me to stop relying on metaphors to say what I mean. They’ve asked if there is a limit to what I’m comfortable sharing. They’ve also told me that I’m the right person to offer my thoughts and perspectives. Truthfully, I’ve never been uncomfortable sharing what I’ve been through. But it’s easy for victimhood to veil everything else, isn’t it? It’s not as easy to see the full landscape of your life and say:
I’m not ashamed of my trauma, but I’m ashamed of how I’ve coped with it — the space, time, and place where I have sacrificed my values in service of survival and safety.
Michael’s words swirled between me and my laptop, fresh and raw. As I venture into the next phase of my life and career — leaving sports behind, beginning a Ph.D. on suicide, and writing a deeply vulnerable book — I needed a straightforward nudge.
True to their new meanings, curiosity and respect made me care to look again — at everything.
What am I so afraid of?
Well, as I’m sure is similar for most of us, the truth. But even ‘the truth’ is abstract. The space between me and my computer screen now seemed to whisper: deeper, still.
I am afraid of how full the truth is — specifically the ratio of how I’ve been harmed to how much harm I’ve caused.
Even deeper.
I don’t think any of us wish the ratio to be in favour of harm to ourselves, but I also believe that we must not let the ratio turn in favour of causing harm to others because we’ve been harmed.
Deeper.
And when we inevitably do (and I have), we must forgive both sides.
Because great care for healing does not come without the courage to look again, knowing full well that examining the scar might be more painful than the wound that caused it. But curiosity and respect are two legs of the same walker, as is community and restorying. They cannot exist alone.
I am afraid of losing the veil — of truly seeing all of this. And then forgiving.
So, here I was, still uncomfortable, but comfortable being uncomfortable in all the right ways. My fingers started typing an email to Michael (who is also a former athlete (in the same sport) and a suicide attempt survivor). Talk about being straightforward — this was the universe saying: if you do your work I’ll do mine.
Becoming Restoried is a community built on the belief that you can change your story. It features retreats, coaching, self-reflection, and group connection to help you reconnect to people, purpose, and power.
Thus far, Becoming Resoried has offered a safe (though vulnerable and urgent), non-clinical, and community-based approach to exploring stories and questions. I’ve rethought how I probe each path I walk and trail I leave behind on my story’s map.
This blog series will share the impact of becoming restoried on my life. Combining poetry and prose, my hope is that it will be a breathing testament to this process.
I think back to that quote, “recover loudly so that others don’t die quietly” in combination with “everyone dies but not everyone lives.” Death can have multiple meanings here, all connecting back to how we simultaneously live and recover from our stories. No story is ever as simple as the curly-haired girl’s. And I can’t wait to share more about how I’ve unlearned that it should be.
You can take Becoming Restoried’s What Story Are You Living assessment, or join one of their ongoing free virtual workshops.
