My story says I am alone. I can trust no one. I am a commodity to be used. My story in me looks around and says “I am not like ____ so I am not measuring up”.
My story knows that no matter how hard I try I will never feel like I fit in. And at the same time my story also says that if I try harder and do more things better that one day it will happen. I will feel like I belong, that I fit in, I finally made the popular crowd. I’m liked and no one is judging me.
My story also yells that I’m too different, too much, too crazy, too sarcastic, not enough, my childhood was too different and my life too insane to fit in.
My story is a liar. It speaks what I learned from 30 years of experience (almost 31) and plays it over and over in my brain trying to protect me. In it’s own way – trying to love me. But love me only to protect itself. Not the person I am now.
My story is true – it all happened – but it lies to me. Just because it happened before doesn’t mean it will happen again. Because now I see my story as my story, as what my brain yell at me but is not true of my life now. Because I have chosen to parent myself (my child self inside of me) and listen and hear it’s fears and then to speak love to it and myself (and let others speak love to me).