the most powerful 3 little words

“I’ve been there”
I got a call a few weeks back from a dear friend who was freshly diagnosed with Post Partum depression. Not having it with her first, she was blindsided by this new low she found herself in. It makes me very proud so say that this isn’t the first time I’ve been an early recipient of a mother sharing something so difficult to say to herself, let alone to someone else. I am very vocal about my journey with postpartum depression for this exact reason. I am honored to be on the receiving end of the call I wish I would have had the strength to make almost 7 years ago. And as a bonus, the more I talked my struggles outwardly, the more I was able to heal the subconscious shame factor that so cruelly accompanies one of the darkest moments in one’s life. When I was struggling, I had convinced myself the real me was just around so many corners. One 6 straight hours of sleep away, one less hour of crying from a sweet, tiny, intimidating baby with a fierce bout of colic, one day of getting dressed and getting out the door for a full day of work. Every time those milestones were achieved, I was left feeling infinitely worse. I told my sweet friend what I wished someone would have sat me down and explained to me:1
“You have an illness. This isn’t something you can sweep under the rug, this isn’t something that’s just going to go away. You have to think of this as the flu. If you had the flu, would you feel shame about it? Absolutely not. If you had the flu, you would throw the book at it. And that’s what you have to do here.”

That same prescription works for many different speed bumps and dark nights in life. Being able to say “I’ve been there” is a badge of honor I get to wear in several different roles. Celebrating 10 years of being a business owner this year has made me much more emotional than I anticipated. A large part of doing things your own way and constantly pivoting (sometimes gracefully, sometimes not) is that it never feels like you are “there.” For me to be able to share with others on their journeys “I’ve been there” gives me a feeling of accomplishment that is so lacking when you work for yourself. Sharing my tips, hacks, systems gives me a moment to look back and reflect on what I’ve learned and have a moment of pride at what I have been able to accomplish. And a deep desire to leave the path behind me better than I found it. To give the advice I couldn’t find when I was a few steps behind.
So many of us hold back on what we have to say because we don’t feel like “experts.” To paraphrase a quote I heard this week: “being an expert isn’t binary. There isn’t a line you cross one day and you’ve suddenly become an expert. Being an expert lies in the work you do and who you do it for.” To be quite honest, I don’t get a lot of inspiration from people that are 5, 10, 20 years removed from whatever it is they are an “expert” on. The ones that are former CEOS and founders that have now gotten out of the game and exclusively speak about what they learned. Yes, those are great for motivation and a feel good church like moment ala Tony Robbins. Sure, they have their places but I am a pragmatist. The world is moving so insanely rapidly, I want to learn from someone a few years, months, weeks, days ahead of me. I love to learn from people in the arena with me. Collabortively.2 The one’s that aren’t so removed from what it takes to be a modern bootstrapped entrepreneur in 2024. One’s that can truly say “I’ve been there.”
This week, I got to welcome in a new substacker, , thanks to her leaning into this same energy. Caroline is a gem of a human. Among many other titles, she is the founder of a community and continued education center for adults with special needs, The Quad. She is an expert in development in people with different learning abilities. But this year she got to view this from a different lens. One in the arena with the people she has consulted and advised for years. When her son was diagnosed with autism this year, it knocked the wind out of her. She reached out to me saying she was craving a creative outlet to foster conversations on her own journey but also learn and share from other mothers similar to her in what they are finding helpful in their phases of their journeys. Which can be really difficult when you are supposed to be the one with all of the answers. First off, I shared just how cathartic and energizing it has been to take up a creative writing practice here on Substack. The platform makes is so easy to not only write in real time, but have a home for people to view all the prior letters so they can jump in this conversation whenever they find it. Secondly, I told her that it will not only provide a space for her to process what she is going through in a channeled way, but it will provide so much for others going through the same thing and are a few days, weeks, months, years behind her. For her to be able to put out into the world how it feels to “be here” currently will be a gift for many for years to come.
It reminded me of when my sister and I started an awareness Instagram account for my nephew Henry. When Diana first got the diagnosis of Henry’s rare genetic disorder, BBS, she did what one does in the internet generation and doom googled. With the condition being so rare, that bulk of the search findings were very technical. There were research papers, webMD style findings outlining the symptoms, family pages where people ask questions to peers. But nothing showing the children as themselves. Nothing that showed them as the unique, wonderful people they are. So we created an instagram account to first, to provide updates to so many wonderful people who prayed for and supported Henry and secondly, as a beacon of hope to other mothers who were coming to grips with a life ahead with a child with BBS. Her DM inbox has been filled with many parents from all over the globe asking questions, sharing stories, and sending gratitude for having a place to see a child with BBS outside of just the medical lens.
The power of “I’ve been there” at it’s finest.
I encourage you to share this post with someone who has been a beacon of hope by sharing their step ahead in their journey with you :)
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My sister sat me down and said the opposite in such a wonderful way and nearly as powerful as “I’ve been there.” She said I cannot relate to how you feel, my heart aches for you and I really want you to feel better but I don’t know how. She didn’t say “just do this” or give advice to try to just be useful. She was able to sit in the discomfort of “I have no idea what to tell you and I’m not going to pretend like I do” to make either of us feel a false sense of helpfulness. She sent me resources and articles and my first podcast I ever listened to (which is where I became an Elise Loehnen superfan!) Holding space for people is a gift. ↩
Teaser for the new collaborative newsletter coming very soon that aims to tackle just that! Stay Tuned! ↩