I’m sick of my story

I realized (with quite a bit of shock) last night that I’m sick of my stories. You know the stories I mean … the ones about why I have this or that wound, why I have no self-esteem because of what so-and-so did (usually decades ago), why I have all these limitations and stucknesses. I’ve been telling these stories for years as my excuse for why I am how I am, but I also told them with the hope that sometime somewhere someone would finally really hear my story in such a way that it would validate my experience so I could move on. I wanted someone to tell me I was ok despite what my story was.

However, as I sat in yoga class last night as we went around the room sharing our stories on a given topic (with deep emotional content) that I’ve grown sick of telling my stories. I shared mine in the briefest possible encapsulated form in class to demonstrate participation, but somehow it just doesn’t seem important anymore. I had no need for anyone to hear it, to validate it, to witness it. It bores even me all of a sudden!

I watched my classmates as they still deeply identified with their stories and the wounds and the way their stories have limited their lives were painfully obvious. I could recognize in a detached way that this was me not so long ago, but something has shifted.

When did this happen? How did it happen? WHAT happened?

I honestly don’t know.

It’s not that anyone finally heard my story the way I thought I needed them to. I think I’ve finally realized that no one can. No one can really experience my story the way I experience it because everyone else comes to it with their own set of wounds, perceptions, and experiences that color their response. So no one else can validate me the way I thought I needed. I think what happened instead is that the one and only person who could really hear and validate my story finally did so. That person is me. I’m finally accepting me, with all my stories and wounds and baggage and limitations as ok. I am finally validating me, and that’s what was truly needed all along, I think.

I also think I’m finally tired of lugging around all of the baggage that goes with my stories. I’m tired of the energy drain. I’m tired of the ways it limits me from being the person I want to be. I’ve been really focused the last few weeks on releasing any connections that are no longer in harmony for me. It appears that these old stories fell into that category even though they never crossed my mind anywhere in the process.

But perhaps the biggest shift is that I’m finally deciding that I am tired of living a life that isn’t working. Life is short, and I want to spend the rest of my time here truly living. To do that, it’s time to let go of the past. Sure, the things that happened in my past will still affect me, but I can stop focusing on those things. I can put my effort into changing dysfunctional patterns that I identify instead. I want to put my energy into moving forward, into growth, into possibility.

And that means creating new stories. Stories that are fun to tell. Stories that I’m excited about and proud of. Stories about me living the life of my dreams.

So I’m done with those old, boring stories. I don’t want to tell them anymore (even to myself) unless there’s some gem in the story that might bring a blessing to someone else who is experiencing the same thing. But unless they are helpful to someone else, I’m sick of them. My attachment to them died somewhere along the way without me noticing, and I’m suddenly aware of space for new birth.

Does that mean I’m done with healing? Hell no! I still have a lot of work to do, but now I’m stepping up to take responsibility to do the work that needs to be done to heal. I’m not waiting for anything from anyone else. I’m heading forward now instead of focusing backward. And above all, I’m taking the initiative to move in the direction of my dreams even if I have to do it in a slightly-limping-sort-of-broken-mostly-good state.

Life may not be perfect, but it is good. Very, very good.

A Note on Comments: A chrysalis is by nature a very fragile place, and it takes a good deal of vulnerability to share this personal journey of transformation so openly. Therefore, I need this to be a safe place for exploration and sharing for me and for my readers. Comments sharing your own journey, even if your experience is different from mine, are always welcome and encouraged. Expressions of support or encouragement are also welcome. Comments that criticize, disparage, correct, or in any way attempt to undermine the validity of another person’s experience or personal insight—or the expression of that experience or insight—are NOT welcome here and will be deleted.

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