Memories are such odd things. Sometimes they can be so vivid, while other times they are completely elusive, leaving me reaching, stretching to pinpoint it. And I never know what will trigger one–a picture, a smell, a song. And then the memory rushes up to meet me, taking me back in time, like it all happened yesterday.
In my sessions and my classes, I chat a lot about this idea of your life’s story. I also think the term “story” can be interpreted many ways–your belief systems, your actual story plot point by plot point, your repeating patterns, etc. But at its most basic, story is the essence of who you are and how you came to be. That’s a pretty sacred thing, yet we often refer to our story in critical terms–as something we tell ourselves, but isn’t really true, or something that needs to be adjusted or fixed–so that we can go out into the world and live our fullest life.