Your words will outlive you, and that’s a beautiful thing.

We’ve been sharing stories for as long as we’ve existed. First around a fire, then around a table, and on and on, through the generations.

And who are the keepers of these stories? Women.

Women have always been the vessels of wisdom, carrying it through centuries. That wisdom is part of our shared heritage, and when we reach this stage of life, it’s what we deeply desire to pass down to others.

Will everyone listen? Probably not. But that’s not the point. Someone out there needs to hear what you have to say.

A client recently asked me if younger women even want to hear our stories. A few days later, my hairstylist asked a similar question. She felt like her words didn’t matter. I assured her they do.

How do I know this with such certainty? When I started writing about reinventing my life after leaving a cult, I assumed only people interested in cults would care. I was wrong. I received DMs and emails from women who had been through all kinds of trauma—not the same as mine, but enough to recognize themselves in my story. They wrote to tell me it gave them hope. That things could change. That they could change.

That’s the power of storytelling.

You never know who your words might reach.

As a woman in her third stage of life, you hold a unique gift: the gift of experience. While no two life stories are the same, the wisdom gained from those stories is vital to share.

You may have heard the phrase, “the personal is universal.” It’s true. Your story, with all its tragedy, tenacity, and triumph, can help another who may be going through something decidedly different on the surface, but deeply familiar at a soul level. When you share your unique perspective, it gives the person reading that perspective a chance to step outside themselves, if only for a few moments, and perhaps see that the future can be better.

And right now, that’s more important than ever. Social media has bombarded women, especially younger women, with unattainable standards of beauty and perfection, powered by an ever-evolving AI algorithm. Your words can cut through that.

You are your generation’s storyteller.

You may not think your words can cut through the noise, but they can. They do, all the time. Think about words you’ve read that reached deep into you and pulled out something you didn’t even know was there. That’s the power you have inside you.

How do I know you have this power? Because you wouldn’t be reading this if you didn’t feel that spark inside, even if it’s just a tiny ember right now.

Please don’t wait for the ember to go out… because it never will. It will smolder quietly, resurfacing now and then to gently remind you that you have something to say. Don’t regret not sharing your wisdom while you can. The longer you wait, the more the details fade, and the harder it becomes to reconnect with certain chapters of your life.

But when you begin, writing down one small memory, then another, and another, that tiny ember can build into a deep, sustaining flame.

They may not be reading now, but one day, they will.

Right now, the younger generation may be watching more videos than reading memoirs. But that doesn’t mean they won’t ever want to hear your story. It means you need to leave it behind in a form they can find when they’re ready.

Storytelling has always changed formats: cave walls, scrolls, oral tradition, leather-bound books, blogs, podcasts. The medium evolves, but the need for meaning doesn’t. And when life hits them hard, when they need guidance, reassurance, or the voice of someone who’s walked through fire and come out wiser, they’ll come looking.

The question is: Will your story be there for them to find?

Your words are more than memory; they’re legacy.

Memoirs are time capsules. A letter to a granddaughter. A life portrait capturing your journey through motherhood. A full memoir that reflects the arc of your entire life. All of these become treasures, not just about you, but from you.

Think about it: The stories that move us most are rarely about fame or headlines. They’re about everyday bravery. Resilience. Kindness. Wit. Insight. They’re about the human experience. And that’s something you already have in abundance.

When someone you love is gone, it’s often their words you miss the most. The way they phrased things. Their voice in your head. The things they said over and over again. Or maybe the one thing they said once that stayed with you forever.

Writing your story captures that voice. It creates a presence that lives on, not just in memory, but in ink. It’s a gift your loved ones can return to whenever they want and pass down when it’s their turn to tell the story.

Remember, you are your generation’s storyteller. You have wisdom to share. You are valued more than you may realize.

If you feel that tiny ember urging you to put your story into words, I’d be honored to help you begin.