The Story You Choose to Tell is the Only One that Matters

As long as it is the Truth.

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The stories we tell ourselves create who we are.

Have you ever been with someone long enough to hear them sing the same song twice?

Or, more?!

Back in my day…

Those epic tales that fiercely demonstrate who we are as a people.

For example, the Bible.

Imagine this: three young children all anxiously going wild to tell you their version of how the cat landed in the paint bucket!

Split those children apart. Have them each share their story separately and weigh your conclusions carefully.. : )

How about the lies we tell ourselves?

Oh, she makes me happy.

Our break-up is entirely his fault!

Stories bear a heavy weight on how we perceive ourselves.

And, how we allow others to perceive us.

One story that keeps resurfacing in my life is that of the victim. 

People run to me with tragic sob stories. Stories of whoa. On how the world has mistreated them.

How about the stories we choose to tell ourselves?

I am a self-reliant individual  who accepts responsibility for my own reality.

Perhaps, these folk are sharing their stories of horror with me as a friendly reminder from the universe to not act like that.

I will verify that at one point I was a victim. And, the stories I clung to from that quickly fleeting situation did the most damage!!

Worse, I was afraid to tell my story. I victimized myself with my own thoughts. Because I told myself that I was bad for ever even allowing something like that to happen.

I choose not to be that person any longer.

I am a rape survivor.

Who owes many thanks, gratitude & an explanation to her mother. For never having told her the reason why I suffered.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ~ Maya Angelou

 

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