Last June, I went to a leadership conference in Boston, in which we'd learn how to tell our stories no matter how hard it is. The conference was no larger than 13 people, including the guy who led it, but even there I felt extremely intimidated. 

I sat at the far end of the conference table, away from everyone else. The entire group except for me was made up of adults, and I could tell all of those adults had one hell of a story to share. While my mom conversed with everyone else, I stayed far away from the crowd, regretting my decision fully, since I feared I didn't belong, and Boston gave me almost too much anxiety to handle. I'm just a teenager after all, what do I have to offer to these adults who have all likely been through and know much more than me?

Eventually, Eric, the guy who organized the gathering, stood at my end of the table, and got everyone quiet and in their own seat quickly. He introduced himself, and decided that along with his name, he'd tell us a bit of his story. He wrote a book called A Sherpa Named Zoi, which is a self-help book/memoir about grief, resilience, and the loss of his teenage daughter who committed suicide at the age of 14. Through his tears, he talked about the events leading up to his daughter's suicide, and what happened after that. 

Once he finished, he decided to give everyone in the class 20-30 minutes each to introduce themselves and open up about their story. Eric looked at me first, but I just sank back in my seat and pulled down my hat, so he looked to the young man sitting across from me instead, and decided we'd start with him.