Telling personal stories has a measurable positive effect. They help us feel seen and remind us that we are seen. As we grow older, and older still, it can begin to feel as though our stories are fading. In reality, they’re right where they’ve always been.
Sometimes, it’s something simple. A snowy day can bring a story rushing back. Suddenly I’m in New Hampshire. My kids are sledding, their cheeks are red, they’re racing far too fast for me, laughing uncontrollably.
Stories don’t fade. They’re simply waiting to be told.
Throughout life we all have the potential to feel seen, and to feel invisible. When we feel invisible, we begin to feel like we don’t matter. Storytelling, no matter how small, is a bridge to belonging. And from belonging a bridge back to ourselves and our relevance.
Kim Fuller, of Middletown Rhode Island is an author, speaker, advocate, mother and someone who understands that every individual’s personal journey is messy, beautiful, painful and relevant—and above all, deserves to be told.
“The internal story we tell ourselves, I’m not enough. My story doesn’t matter. Whatever we tell ourselves becomes our truth. My work is helping people unravel that, and tell what they lived through. There’s a lot of wisdom in living.”
Kim’s personal road to feeling seen and heard is rooted in her own journey of healing where she discovered the process itself holds a lot of power.
In 2007, she shook hands with the Dalai Lama.
“Just before we shook hands, I realized I was in my ego,” she said. “I didn’t like where I was sitting. I wasn’t in the front row. But because I was in that very seat, he came to the edge of the row and shook my hand.”
She remembers putting her camera down.
“We made eye contact, and I felt loved for exactly who I am. All my ego, stress, and anxiety just went away. I felt seen and completely OK as I am. Everyone in the room lit up that day, but when he shook my hand, something shifted in me. I started thinking about a different path.”
Not long after, her adopted son, Keydell entered her life and became her “greatest teacher” in an entirely different way.
“He had lived in survival mode. He felt abandonment, rejection, not being loved—things I never experienced. I grew up feeling safe and loved. I saw the extremes.”
The otherworldly love she felt in that brief exchange stood in contrast to the lack of safety her son carried. And in that divide, something deeper began to form.
“When I let go of my story about what my son’s life should look like, and what kind of parent I thought I should be, that’s when we connected on a deeper level.”
That practice of letting go of ego, expectation and judgement is now woven into how she holds space for herself and others.
“I wrote a book called Finding. It’s the story of how my adopted son, Keydell, led me on a journey to discover there’s space for all of us. Then I was asked to give a TED Talk. I spent a long time writing, but I was blown away by the process of distilling it down to what matters in 15 minutes.”
“It was powerful,” she said. “It helped me see how the different pieces of my life—photography, adopting my son, the people who shaped me—all connected and brought me to where I am today. Writing it and telling it on stage were healing. And insecurity came up. In order to heal, I had to step into things that were scary and vulnerable and try it on for size. Oh my God.”
Scary began to evolve into rewarding.
“I started to see a potential for growth and expansion. I started to feel like I can do hard things,” Kim shared.
After the Ted Talk, Kim decided to share a story at Tell Newport, a local storytelling event that takes place at the Firehouse Theater in Newport. The premise is simple: “people you know telling a true story.”
“There were a lot of people there. It was lighthearted and fun, and I enjoyed that,” she said. “But I also thought it would be powerful for women to step into a story and share transformational experiences.”
She hosted her first event at Salvation Cafe.
“When something feels right—when I trust it and get excited about it—I take baby steps,” she said. “I didn’t know what this was going to become. I just knew it felt aligned. Something was calling and I listened.”
I asked Kim why she thinks people are so hungry for stories right now.
“We’re all navigating this crazy thing we call life, but in such unique circumstances,” she said. “And then someone says something that hits at the right moment.”
Even before her events began selling out and filling rooms beyond what she expected, she sensed something deeper was happening.
“I don’t know exactly why,” she said. “Maybe it’s social media. Maybe it’s women feeling a desire to come together. Maybe it’s the political climate. But I think storytelling is an age-old way for us to make sense of the world.”
She pointed to the long history of storytelling across cultures, communities gathering to share experiences so others could learn. Stories have always been a source of connection, of deeper understanding and a way to truly know someone.
“We stopped standing on the shoulders of our elders. We should be,” she said. “They lived through real things—things that matter—and we have so much to learn from them.”
“It’s hard to be human. You wouldn’t act the way you do if you had enough love in your life. I’ve learned to love the human condition. That we’re all trying to navigate life the best we know how. That doesn’t mean being a doormat. It means seeing people.”
Nearly 20 years after Kim’s life-changing moment of meeting the Dalai Lama, I found myself in the audience of a Born to Rise storytelling evening where three Black women honored Black History Month by sharing their stories. In a standing-room only, intimate setting, on a bitterly cold night, it was clear I wasn’t the only one who felt something deeper was unfolding.
I mentioned this in our conversation and Kim reflected:
“The other night I couldn’t have planned. The way the women connected with one another was trusting. The themes of my events are open ended. I don’t ask what they’re going to share. Sometimes they’re not even sure themselves. But different circumstances bring us together in unity. There’s this shared experience in overcoming obstacles.”
“When Tavia said ‘I’ve never told this to anyone,’ and shared her pain she showed us a side of herself that few have ever seen. It became a gift for all of us. All of us carry pain. And when she sang for us a capella you could feel her soul.”
“We all have different pain. That’s the human experience. We can lessen suffering. Sharing our story is freeing. It’s not ours to hold. Love is more powerful than anger. We are all interconnected.”
We are all interconnected. It feels like a universal truth.
I have attended many Born to Rise storytelling evenings. As we closed our conversation, I mentioned the peaceful joy I personally felt hearing the stories that night, and how a space intentionally created to feel safe, somehow felt even safer.
Kim’s son, Keydell, who died by suicide last year, was a Black man. As she reflected on the evening, she described her heart as recently “broken wide open.”
“To see all the people of color in the room—people who are queer, of different races and backgrounds—I felt like everything aligned with what I’ve been trying to do,” she said. “Truly bring people together. I’m a dreamer with a lot of hope for humanity—and it was there that night. So joyous. So open. So full.
“If that room represented the world, then the world is a possibility. If we could share in this way, with empathy, compassion and the courage to show it, something shifts. The room was open and full of love, and sharing a collective grief felt like a different form of love”
“There were no isms in that room.”
Somewhere, in the middle of our conversation, we shared a few quiet, hopeful tears, sitting together with the messy, beautiful truth that being seen and heard still matters.
Helen Hames is an Aging Advisor and Founder of Age Ambassador, based in Rhode Island. She works with older adults and their families to navigate decisions around aging at home or transitioning to senior living, recognizing the needs and priorities of today’s older adults continue to evolve with each generation. Helen’s approach centers on understanding what matters most to each individual and helping families plan with intention, clarity and compassion. Helen was honored with the 2025 Senior Champion of the Year Award and a RI State Citation for her advocacy and work that supports older adults in living fully through every season of life.