Here’s Where the Story Ends

 

Ahh, the stories you tell yourself. If I had a nickel for all the stories my clients have shared over the last 10 years I’d be rich.

Very. Very. Rich.

stack of old books and spectaclesStories you were told growing up.

Stories you made up about yourself.

Stories that held you back.

It’s enough to have Freud turn over in his grave.

Err, actually, he’d probably like all your stories because that would mean lots of time on the couch.

I was reminded of the power of stories by two things  recently:  a chat with the fabulous El Edwards of TruthPassionJoy and a song called The Story Ends by The Sundays.

The thing that most people forget about stories is this. . .

They’re all made up in the first place. 

You create you. Then you forget.

A relative comments on your height/weight/hair colour ==> You make this mean you’ll have to compensate and work harder than everyone else to get ahead.

An ex-boyfriend says you’re too intense ==> You decide you’re too much for people to handle and start suppressing yourself.

A kid on the playground calls you a nerd ==> You give up on all things athletic because clearly, you are NOT a jock.

Your 4th grade teacher says “stop trying so hard, you’ll never be an artist” ==> You stop doing what you love to do (except in your most secret dreams) and do what’s expected.

See how this works?

They said X ==> You made up Y

Then you go on and live your life for the next 20, 30, 50 years living like that story is the truth about you.

It’s so not.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.” – Carl Jung

Right here, right now, what if you put an end to your old stories?

Done. Finished. Kaput!

Never to be spoken again.

Right here, right now, what if you made up a new story?

A story that made your heart sing.

A story that made you smile with delight.

A story that satisfied you at the end of the day.

Tell me.

Tell me your new story.

It is longing to be expressed.