I recently stumbled upon an Instagram caption that read, “If we’re too full, we are reactive to life. It is so so HUMAN. We repeat the same patterns and cycles, we live out our stories. Many of which we haven’t even a clue.”
Over half a year ago I was living in my small town on the West Coast of Canada living out stories I had outgrown, feeling stuck and confined by the version of me that everyone thought I was and the version I wanted to be. I was full of expectations without growing room, caught in a cycle of what I should be doing and what my heart craved. The inner narrative in my head felt like a mix tape stuck on the same track, playing the same song, the same words on repeat - those words being:
“I am too broken to be loved.”
I used to live in this story. And by used to I mean up until only a few months ago, a few weeks ago, a few days ago, and by used to I mean the tape still gets stuck sometimes. The track still plays. My wounds are too deep, I thought, the war with myself that I teeter-totter between winning and losing too treacherous for someone to enter safely. They'd end up wounded, too. I wanted so deeply to be a safe place for someone. A place for someone to set their armor down, press pause on the stories playing in their head, a place where someone could come out of hiding. But if I couldn't be a safe space for myself, I couldn't be a safe space for someone else.
The mere belief that I was too broken to be loved, the simple process of putting truth to that story - that was what made it real. Our stories are just words until given meaning. I thought it was the only story that could be true for me, and that is what gave it power to be the script that I acted out. And that script existed in my life through my actions, dialogue and conversations, and the people I attracted. It guided me to seek love in places that I knew love didn't exist, so I ended up hurt, and fell back on those words. "See? I'm too broken to be loved." I sought out connection through dating apps that were created out of disconnection and lack of vulnerability. Everything affirmed my inner story.
When we are feeling full of expectations, our lives are spent perpetuating these stories until we shift them. We act out the script until we can truly see the ways in which we have been conditioned by our world, and start to break through to be the best version of who we are.
It’s risky, rewriting your story. You've been living according to it. This is all you know. But the unknown is worth seeking - it is a place of someone returning, of mutual healing, of security. A place of knowing that your wounds are worth loving.
It wasn't until I started questioning the stories I lived in that I was able to take a step back and realize I had the power to rewrite them. For me, rewriting meant leaving. It meant flying to another hemisphere and being intentional with what tracks I wanted to let my mind play. And it guided me to finding someone that helps me identify when old stories show up. It guided me to mutual healing with someone who understands wounds, who listens and hears and sees and stays.. to someone that saw my wounds and loved me anyway. It’s been empowering yet uncomfortable, traveling and re-writing my narrative as I do. Letting some stories go, leaving them behind, gives you the ability to choose what stories you want to live out.
Upgrading your stories is worth the discomfort. Someone or something is out there that can prove your mind wrong. There is so much out there in the world that is meant for you to find it, that will affirm everything you know to be true. You just have to find the courage to break the pattern - whatever breaking it looks like for you.
If you are feeling full, if you are navigating stories that no longer serve you, if you are feeling confused and tangled and unsteady, you are exactly where you need to be. Start by finding what helps you empty your soul. Start by questioning how you live - your patterns, your cycles. And then get going. Your stories are worth upgrading.