I was a storyteller

Many people are investing a lot of time in listening to and engaging with narratives that other people create about other people. 

In fact, isn’t this the entire business proposition of the media?

How much time have we invested in listening to and believing narratives that others present us with?

How much time have we invested in fueling and continuing these narratives? 

How much time have we invested in cultivating and growing our own narratives about others? About our own life? Our own identity? Our own limits and struggles?

How many years have we told ourselves stories about ourselves? 

(Photo Credit: capitalstorytelling.com)

I recently started attending a storyteller open mic. Last week I got up and started to share about my teenage years. I had plenty of memories and captivating drama to reveal. But there was a problem. These are old stories; old ways of thinking about myself and my own experiences. 

I was a victim of bullying and sexual harassment by boys and grown men. 

I was a victim of betrayal and cruelty by girls and grown women. 

I have plenty of evidence to fuel this narrative. 

But when I got on stage, I found myself digging in my heels. I didn’t want to own this narrative anymore. 

It’s not the only narrative to describe my life. It just happens to be the one that I remember clearly because it emotionally crippled me for many years. 

But other things happened. I just forgot about them. 

When I got on stage I realized that I wanted to start remembering. 

I want a new narrative. 

So I decided to flip the script on myself.

Instead of talking about the bullying and cruelty, I owned up to the time I was a mean girl. I owned up to the decisions I made that weren’t great. I painted a different picture of myself than the one I “knew” to be true of myself. 

Is it true though? Is who I think I was the same as who I am? 

Is who we think other people are the same as who they actually are?

I don’t believe this. 

We don’t know what other people are going through. We only hear and see and remember the narratives. 

This is the first thing they teach in college level history. (I was a history major.) 

“It’s a winners history.” 

But we can flip the script on winning and losing. We can pull the plug on history narrated by undiscerning storytellers when we realize that we, too, have been less than discerning about the stories we have believed and the stories we have repeated and the stories we have invented about ourselves and each other. 

While media captures storylines, no form of media or history book can capture the living moment. 

We are the living moment. 

We are the living history. 

We don’t have to tell stories about the present moment. We live in the present moment. The present moment lives in us. It lives through us. 

We are the living celebration of time. Here and now. 

This is my living story! 

What’s yours?