Being Trusted With Someone Else’s Story
The Drift - Essay 13
A reflection of what it means to be trusted with someone else’s story and the responsibility that comes with protecting it.
Someone messaged me recently to ask how I write these Drift posts.
It’s a fair question.
I could talk about process, structure, how I shape them.
But that’s not really the part that matters. It’s what readers don’t see that does.
The messages. The longer ones. The ones that are deeply personal.
Things people haven’t said out loud at work. Things they’ve been carrying on their own.
Every time it happens, I feel two things at once.
A deep sense of honour. And a kind of stress.
Because when someone shares something like that, they’re not just telling a story. They’re trusting you to hold it the way they lived it with all its edges. And they’re trusting you to protect them. To make sure nothing points back to them, even accidentally.
I take that seriously.
There are stories I’ve been given that I will never share. Not because they aren’t important, but because there’s no way to tell them without revealing who they are. Some workplaces are too small. Some dynamics are too specific. Some harms are too recognizable.
So I sit with what’s shared. I let it shape how I understand what people are navigating.
For many, it’s simply the act of putting it down and having someone read it that helps. It makes it real. I offer no advice, just an understanding that something has happened to them.
Because in the end, not every story is meant to be told. And the ones that are, deserve to be handled with care.
