SO, WHAT'S YOUR STORY?
... does it have an exciting character arc or is it just a tired old script?
Dr. J and I spent last week in the Pacific Northwest doing what can only be described as “decompressing.” Or, to use one of his favorite Japanese concepts, forest bathing (or shinrin-yoku). We stayed in a small house tucked along a quiet bay off Puget Sound, surrounded by towering pines and views of Mount Rainier.
Between sightings of spectacular birds, a playful pair of otters (a one-day-only performance, sadly), and a solitary seal who popped its head up at nearly the same time each morning, it was as lovely as it sounds.
However—and I know you know this is true—no vacation is complete without a couple of good books. While away, I’d committed to using as few electronic devices as possible, so we ventured into the charmingly Scandinavian-themed town of Poulsbo and made our way to Liberty Bay Books—an equally delightful independent bookstore.
Supporting small businesses, especially bookstores, matters deeply to me. Which is why I always give myself full permission to buy a second—or, ahem, third—book. It’s not indulgence. It’s economic stimulation. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)
And when I travel, I challenge myself to buy books from “new-to-me” authors—bonus points if they’re local to the state/area we’re visiting. I believe I scored on both counts with Esme Cahill Fails Spectacularly by Marie Bostwick (2023).
And, you guessed it, that’s where today’s quote comes from:
Doesn’t matter the book, lines (or themes) like the one above stop me every time. (You’ve likely noticed that as a couple of my previous articles hint at this same theme.)
As a writer, a coach and a friend—and a person—I see know how easy it is to drift—at worst—into victimhood, or—at best—into forgetting how much of our life is actually within our control.
And yes, we’ve all heard some version of the adage: we can’t always control what happens to us, but we can control how we respond.
But I think Bostwick’s line points toward something even deeper than that—the power, whether positive or (too often) negative, of the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves.
The “Oh, but I’m not good at that.” or “Who am I to talk about that? I’m certainly no expert.” or “I’ve never succeeded at that before, why would this time be any different?” types of thoughts and statements.
Let’s be honest, fear of trying new things is very real.
And . . .
Letting those kind of thoughts limit us, or worse, letting them become a self-fulling prophecy is real, too.
But one is something we can learn to manage. The other leads to putting ourselves down, limiting our dreams, and an ever-deepening spiral of dissatisfaction.
So . . . what if the most important legacy we leave behind isn’t in our accolades or achievements—but in the daily story we tell ourselves about who we are and what we’re capable of?
You know the one, it’s the one that gets whispered when we’re deciding whether to try something new, speak up, step forward… or, on the flip side, stay small. The one that can either cheer us on or hold us back.
As much as we’d sometimes like to, we can’t rewrite what’s already happened. But we absolutely can write a better story going forward.
And that starts with noticing the narrative—the one likely on repeat inside your head.
Is it time for you to flip the metaphorical page and start a new chapter? Is it time to edit out the negative self-talk that’s holding you back?
I can think of several of my own thoughts that have stayed way too long at the party. 😉
Here’s a few journal prompts to help you get started with your own edits:
1. What’s a belief you’ve carried about yourself that may not be entirely true—or no longer serves you?
2. What’s one story you’re telling yourself right now? How would it sound if you rewrote it with more kindness?
3. What evidence do you have that you’re more ready, more capable, or more resilient than you tend to believe?
Need a new notebook for these journal prompts? Check out this COLLECTION in my hand-drawn series.