Turns out I’m not the only one who made a bold personal style choice back in the day!

There’s a comment floating around media lately that keeps catching my eye.

It usually shows up on one of those “vulnerably oversharing in my car” videos, or a 3 a.m. confessional of someone trying to make sense of their messy, beautiful life. The comment?

“I don’t have one original experience.”

At first, it sounded discouraging to me—like we’re all just reruns of each other’s stories. But lately, I’ve found it surprisingly comforting. I’ve been moving through a pretty emotional experience with my close friend group. You know the kind—big feelings, layered history, and the unavoidable truth of our own reflection staring back at us.

In the midst of some big feelings, this comment kept echoing in my mind: “This isn’t an original experience.”

It reminded me that I’m not the first person to feel shame. Or confusion. Or anger that’s slightly out of proportion to the actual situation.

I’m not the only one who’s looked at someone they love and thought, “How did we get here?”

I know I’m a radically unique individual, but the path I’m walking has been traveled before. And that means it’s navigable. That means I can borrow wisdom from others who’ve been there.

It means I’m not broken—I’m human.

We’re wired to believe our pain is unique—because it feels special when we’re in it. Shame thrives in the illusion that we’re alone in our struggle. But the moment we realize someone else has felt it too? That’s when healing cracks open a little window.

It’s like realizing my short, half-down, half-spikey hair cut from my pre-teens—held up with half a tub of hair gel—wasn’t just a bold personal choice, it was a collective rite of passage.

There’s relief in knowing, ‘Ohhh, it wasn’t just me.’

We were all out there defying gravity and good taste together!

The same goes for emotional pain. Grief. Anger. Feeling like a bad person. Feeling misunderstood. Wanting to ghost everyone and move to a cabin in the woods with zero wi-fi and one slightly judgmental raccoon.

Not original. And thank goodness for that.

At DevaTree, we talk a lot about connection—how yoga, meditation, and self-inquiry help us remember who we are beneath the layers. And part of that remembering is this:

We don’t need to suffer in originality.

When we open up and share—even just a sliver of our truth—it invites someone else to whisper, “Me too.” And that whisper is sacred. That whisper is medicine.

So next time you’re spiralling, or stuck in your feels, or beating yourself up for not being perfectly evolved and enlightened 24/7 (because same), try this:

Place your hand on your heart. Breathe. And say, “This is not an original experience.”

Don’t dismiss it. But ground it. Place it gently in the big bowl of shared humanity, where it belongs. Where it’s held.

Where you are.

And somehow, that’s exactly what I needed to hear–and maybe you did too.

All the love to you,
Candice