The Storyteller

Tuesday, November 2, 2021

I've been living an epic story. A story of an underdog escaping and waging war against their oppressor. A selfless martyr hiding deep hurt to help others. Learning to let go and surrender to life. Taking a leap of faith and learning to fly.

I've always told myself that I would be a terrible writer. That I could never write a compelling story. And yet, I've been living these dramatic and deeply satisfying stories that I've crafted about myself. Each one having the purpose of allowing me to hold on to a different habit, thought, or identity while keeping me safe from the danger and indignity of seeing the truth.

The truth is not nearly as exciting. It does not allow me to have the satisfaction of casting myself as the hero, the martyr, and the victim. It doesn't give me excuses for why I can't be happy, why I can't rest, or why I can't take responsibility for my life. It doesn't shield me from the areas in my life that could use some work and from the vulnerability of showing up as my authentic self.

The story that was impressed me the most was the one that I was holding on to something tight and needed to let go. For a long time that story kept me from seeing that I needed to let go of the story itself.

I am grateful for my internal storyteller. It worked hard. It allowed me to keep up my defenses and kept me safe. It helped me feel justified in how I behaved. And for a time, it did exactly what I needed it to do. It was like the oracle in the Matrix. She told me exactly what I needed to hear.

Believing these stories are reality no longer serves me. Now that I can see the storyteller, I can listen to the stories and appreciate the them for what they are. I can even learn something from them, but I don't have to live them anymore if I choose not to.