Dear Presently Community,
I’m so honored to partner with Lindsay and Emily to share a message that’s at the heart of who I am and one that’s helped carry me through the most painful, powerful, and purpose-filled parts of my story.
“Fall in Love with Your Story” isn’t just a mantra I share on stages or in my book Shatterproof—it’s something I had to fight for. It’s something I continue to fight for.
Growing up, I never imagined I’d lose both of my parents to addiction. I never imagined I’d carry that kind of grief, shame, and silence into adulthood. But I also never imagined the freedom that would come when I finally decided to speak the truth—not the polished version, but the raw, real, messy one.
That’s when the healing began. That’s when the shame started to lose its grip. That’s when I started to believe that maybe my story could help someone else fall in love with theirs, too.
That’s why this bracelet means so much to me. It’s more than a beautiful reminder—it’s a daily declaration. A way to say: I am not broken. I am becoming. And no matter where you are in your journey, your story still matters. It is still unfolding. And it is still worth loving.
Below is an excerpt from Shatterproof, a small window into my journey and the heart behind this message. I hope it encourages you, wherever you are today, to lean in, let go of the shame, and start seeing your own story through a lens of grace, strength, and purpose.
With love and gratitude,
Author of Shatterproof
ESPN Sports Broadcaster | Speaker | Advocate
From the pages of Shatterproof:
Fall in love with your story.
That’s my message in a single phrase. I tell people my story and how I unlocked the shackles of shame. I talk about the value of sharing your story with others and the freedom that comes with learning to fall in love with it.
I believe that the stories we tell others become our reality.
I had grown a lot in the 10 years since I threw the toxicology reports on the floor of my aunt’s car, hadn’t I? Why did it take me so long? Why couldn’t I have accepted the truth sooner?
Often, people ask me if I regret that silent decade of my life, and yes, I used to beat myself up about it. For a while, I thought I could have helped more people—had a more profound impact on the world—if I had started down this track right after I graduated from Rutgers.
Why did I keep myself shackled to shame for so long? Because you don’t fall in love overnight. Oh, you might think you have. But you can’t learn to love your story on page one any more than you can force yourself to fall in love on date one. Love doesn’t happen in a flash. Not deep love. Genuine love opens up gently. It comes with time, patience, and commitment. You get there step by step.
As I look back over my story, I can see how every step I took—and those where God carried me—got me to where I am now. Life really is a set of footprints in the sand, not a pole vault across the beach. Every single step I've taken has been instrumental in the next one. If I had leaped into this work back in the early days, I don’t think my mind, ears, eyes, or heart would have been open to receiving the opportunities I've been given.
Part of the journey through grief is the healing you experience along the way. You can’t skip processing your trauma, can’t fast-forward to the good part. My competitive spirit doesn’t like that. I don’t want to train. I want to compete. I want to win!
Let me tell you, though, that coping with grief is the skill that has taken me the longest to get into the win column. But that's okay. Overnight victories rarely last long—not in life, not in football, and not in healing. Victory takes time.
As I’ve opened up about my story, I’ve realized the significance of other people’s stories—the athletes, coaches, fans, and communities I get to appreciate and interview. As a sports reporter, I have covered some of the most prolific coaches and athletes ever to coach and play the game. Ingrained in my mind is an amazing vision of confetti falling on the field after a championship.
That confetti to me isn’t just a championship. It’s not about the wins and losses. That confetti represents a story, layers of stories in fact. And like those athletes and coaches, we all have a story, and each story has its shameful parts. I have never met a person who didn’t feel a stigma, whether it was from addiction or something else.
No single story exists on its own. We are all characters in a larger story, and the whole, big story God is telling with our lives only makes sense when we all speak up about our parts in it.
Read Shatterproof | Shop the Presently x Lauren Sisler Collection
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