Changing My Story
One of the most powerful realizations I’ve ever had is that the stories we tell about ourselves shape our realities, and that if we can change our stories we can reconfigure our brains and transform our lives. It can be easier said than done, but every so often something in my brain clicks and I realize that I’ve been trapping myself in a story which no longer serves me (if indeed it ever did).
One of the most dramatic examples from my own life was the day I realized that I was tired of and bored by the story of myself as a woman with a broken heart. Yes, the pain of my failed marriage and the bad ending of a subsequent relationship was real, but I was done with letting it be one of my defining characteristics. A relatively short time after that, LM entered my life.
For the past several years I’ve been mourning the loss of creativity which resulted from his death. I’ve felt hollow inside, unable to create new fictional stories or work on non-fiction projects, cut off from the stream of passion that used to be part of my essence. It’s felt like I’m missing a vital part of myself. It has hurt a lot, and I haven’t been able to “fix” it.
This evening I realized that I was tired of that narrative. It had been true for a long time, but I was beginning to believe that the story was preventing me from moving forward. Something went “click” and I released the story. I am no longer a woman whose creativity was stolen from her.
I’m not sure yet how my creativity is going to manifest in the days to come, but I have faith in the power of changing the story.
ETA: I've been going back through the archives of this journal and just came across the post I made about that original story change. Oddly enough, it was also in August. . .
One of the most dramatic examples from my own life was the day I realized that I was tired of and bored by the story of myself as a woman with a broken heart. Yes, the pain of my failed marriage and the bad ending of a subsequent relationship was real, but I was done with letting it be one of my defining characteristics. A relatively short time after that, LM entered my life.
For the past several years I’ve been mourning the loss of creativity which resulted from his death. I’ve felt hollow inside, unable to create new fictional stories or work on non-fiction projects, cut off from the stream of passion that used to be part of my essence. It’s felt like I’m missing a vital part of myself. It has hurt a lot, and I haven’t been able to “fix” it.
This evening I realized that I was tired of that narrative. It had been true for a long time, but I was beginning to believe that the story was preventing me from moving forward. Something went “click” and I released the story. I am no longer a woman whose creativity was stolen from her.
I’m not sure yet how my creativity is going to manifest in the days to come, but I have faith in the power of changing the story.
ETA: I've been going back through the archives of this journal and just came across the post I made about that original story change. Oddly enough, it was also in August. . .