More and more, I’m seeing how much my growth is determined by my willingness to allow my stories to grow and change with me.
There are the stories that are (and were always) just trash and need to go (“I’m not good enough”; “this is impossible”; etc.).
And then there are the stories that at one time inspired forward motion and expanded possibility but are now hindering growth and maintaining a not-so-great status quo.
I’ve witnessed the clearest, most profound examples of this in my domestic violence advocacy work.
Often, when I first connected with a new client, they felt confused and murky about what was happening and disconnected from their inner knowing and embodied truth.
They knew something was wrong but didn’t have language for it. They believed the abuse was their fault or that they could have done something to prevent the violence. They blamed themselves.
And in that space, a big part of my job was gently helping them see what was actually happening (talking through cycles of abuse, gaslighting, abusive tactics and mentality, etc.) and then getting them to a place of believing some version of this thought:
I’m a victim of domestic violence.
Because this is a thought that - together with hope, strategy, and support - saves lives.
I’ve seen this story bring explosive clarity and immense relief, motivate people to get to safety, light fires of catalytic change, and break open new worlds of possibility.
And…
It’s also a story that has a limited shelf life in terms of usefulness.
Because if a story like this settles into a conclusion or hardens into an identity - rather than continues to evolve - the results usually aren’t so great.
(This is one reason why ongoing healing work is often so essential after abuse or trauma - because the stories that - perhaps literally - saved our lives aren’t always so helpful on the other side).
The new, more useful story might be something like: I’m a survivor and thriver; I have the power to heal; my story is just beginning; and I get to decide what I create next.
In a space of safety and healing, these thoughts can grow deep roots to create a flourishing garden of new possibility.
All to say, sometimes our helpful stories are helpful forever. Awesome.
And sometimes, they’re not.
Just because a story was helpful, supportive, or even life-saving doesn’t mean it needs to be a once-and-for-all conclusion.
Sometimes, stories expire. And that’s okay.
We can thank them for their service and then let them go.
Stories that saved you a year ago might now be preventing you from growing.
Stories that once launched you to new horizons of possibility might need some editing or an added chapter today.
A story that gave you hope and propelled you forward a decade ago might now be killing parts of your soul.
So what are those stories for you?
Which ones are ready to be released, and which ones are calling you to new horizons?
Where will your story lead you next?