Don't Lose Your Story: Why Sharing Your Story Matters | Elizabeth Hamilton-Guarino
- Elizabeth Hamilton-Guarino
- Jun 8
- 6 min read
By Elizabeth Hamilton-Guarino
About ten years ago, a respected self-help expert gave me a piece of advice that stayed with me.
"Lose your story."
I understood what they meant.
The message wasn't to forget the past. It wasn't to deny what happened. It was a reminder not to become trapped by old experiences, limiting beliefs, or identities that no longer serve us.
At the time, I thought it was wise advice.
And for years, I carried it with me.
Maybe a little too much.
Recently, while rebuilding my website and reflecting on my life's work, I had an unexpected realization: I hadn't lost my story. I had simply become too quiet about it. Over the years, I became comfortable talking about what I do.
Over the years, I found myself focusing less on my own story and more on helping others share theirs.
I celebrated the journeys of the people I coached. I highlighted the voices of authors, experts, and guests on my podcasts. I championed the successes of entrepreneurs, leaders, parents, students, and changemakers. I shared lessons about change, success, gratitude, resilience, and peace, while quietly moving my own experiences further into the background.
In many ways, that was intentional. My work has never been about me. It has always been about helping others discover their strengths, navigate challenges, and become their best selves.
I realized something important. The stories I have spent decades helping others tell are not separate from my own. They are connected by a common thread.
The student-athlete learning resilience after an injury.
The parent advocating for a child with food allergies.
The individual rebuilding life after loss.
The entrepreneur taking a leap of faith.
The person choosing hope during a difficult season.
The family facing unexpected change.
My son Cameron's story. My father's story. My family's story. Your story.
And yes, my story too.
What connects all of us is the reality that life is precious, change is inevitable, and the time we have matters. The lessons I've learned through my own experiences are often the very same lessons I see reflected in the lives of the people I have been privileged to serve.
But somewhere along the way, I stopped talking enough about why.
The interesting thing is that my story never disappeared. It's woven throughout my books, my coaching, my speaking, and my work. I think I simply assumed people were finding it there.
I also think part of me believed people had heard it enough already.
After all, I've lived these experiences for years. I've written about many of them in my books. I've shared pieces of them in interviews, articles, podcasts, and presentations. Somewhere along the way, I started to wonder if people might be tired of hearing my story.
But what I've come to realize is that there are always new people arriving.
There is a parent navigating a food allergy diagnosis for the very first time.
There is someone facing a life-changing health challenge.
There is a family learning how to adapt after an unexpected setback.
There is a person searching for hope, purpose, peace, or simply a reminder that they are not alone.
The story may be familiar to me, but it isn't familiar to everyone.
And more importantly, the story isn't really about me.
It's about what the experiences taught me and how those lessons might help someone else.
So this is me piping up a little more.
Not because I want to live in the past.
Not because I think my story is extraordinary.
But because I've come to realize that stories connect us. They help us understand one another. They remind us that we are not alone. And if sharing more of my story helps someone navigate their own journey, then perhaps it's a story worth continuing to tell.
The more conversations I've had, the more I've realized that people aren't just looking for information. They're looking for connection. They want to understand what shaped the message, what inspired the mission, and why the work matters so deeply to the person sharing it.
That's when I realized my story wasn't missing.
It was simply waiting to be told more completely.
The truth is that my story isn't separate from my work—it is woven throughout it. It lives within every book I've written, every keynote I've delivered, every coaching conversation I've had, and every organization I've built. The experiences that shaped my life ultimately shaped my mission.
After developing severe life-threatening food allergies as an adult, I experienced multiple episodes of anaphylaxis and was resuscitated twice. The most serious occurred while I was six months pregnant with my son Cameron after I unknowingly ate a chocolate chip cookie containing walnuts. That experience forever changed the way I viewed life, gratitude, purpose, and time.
Years later, my father suffered a life-altering stroke. During his recovery, he shared a remarkable series of inspirational words in speech therapy that would later become the foundation for Percolate: Let Your Best Self Filter Through.
Both experiences changed me in profound ways.
Together, they taught me something I now believe with my whole heart:
We are not entitled to time.
That belief became the foundation for Best Ever You, Food Allergy Zone, The Percolate Peace Project, my books, my coaching, my speaking, and much of my life's work.
Looking back, I realize I never needed to lose my story. I simply needed to understand it. Our stories are not just collections of events.
They are clues that reveal what we value and what we care about.
They reveal what breaks our hearts and what gives us hope.
Most importantly, they often reveal our purpose.
For years, I focused on helping people become their best selves.
Today, I realize that one of the reasons people connect with my work is because they can see the humanity behind it.
I don't believe we should live in our stories or use them as excuses.
And I don't believe our past should define our future.
But I do believe our stories matter.
When shared honestly, they help others feel less alone.
They help people see what is possible.
They create connection.
They create understanding.
They create hope.
The goal isn't to lose our stories.
The goal is to learn from them, grow through them, and use them in service of something greater than ourselves.
For a long time, I thought my story was something people had already heard. What I've come to realize is that there are always new people arriving, new challenges emerging, and new opportunities to connect. If sharing more of my story helps even one person feel seen, understood, encouraged, or hopeful, then it's a story worth continuing to tell.
As I continue to write, speak, coach, and serve, you'll probably hear more of my story than you have in recent years. Not because I'm looking backward.
But because I've finally realized that the experiences that shaped me are also the experiences that help me serve others most effectively.
My story isn't what holds me back. It's part of what moves me forward.
And perhaps that's true for you, too.
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