This is a reminder to me as much as it is to you. I want to remind you that you own your own story. It is yours. It belongs to you. What you experience, what you feel, what you live in the course of your life is yours. No one can take that away from you. No one can take away your truth. No one can alter what you know to be true about your own experiences. About your own reality. About your own life.
If there is one thing that I wish I could brand upon my own mind it is this: that I own my own story. It is mine. I have a right to feel it, to own it, to love it, and to tell it. And I have a right to cast it aside when it ceases to serve me. We all have that right.
The funny thing about stories is that, as you tell them, they are molded. They are affected by time. Maybe they become stale. Maybe they become mechanical. Maybe they become more illuminating. Maybe they become transformative. A story that you tell about yourself can serve you. We usually adopt our stories as a way to cope, to explain, to help us understand. Sometimes, your story ceases to serve you. Sometimes you grow out of it. Sometimes you have to alter it to account for personal evolution, growth, a change in perspective, the passage of time. Stories are balms. Stories are allegories. Stories are reassurances. Stories are prisons. Whatever your story is, it’s yours. Own it. Trust yourself enough to know that what is true for you is true, period. There is no objective truth, not really. There are only perspectives. And to honor your own perspective is to honor yourself. As you change, your story will evolve. That is part of the growth. Growth is part of life. Honor your story. Own it. Hold it. Love it. Use it. Consider it. And, if and when the day comes when it no longer fits, thank it for its service to you. And gently let it go.