On the stories we tell ourselves.
We are meaning makers.
Our lives are one continuous story, and we attach meaning to the inflection points along the way.
Sometimes those meanings can be helpful, but oftentimes those meanings can be notably unhelpful.
You can see it all around you in your own life. Two people can experience the exact same event, and yet attach completely different meanings to it.
One helps. One hurts. One empowers. One disempowers. One is oxygen. One is suffocation.
So if we’re all meaning makers, what do we do with that information?
Well…we choose better stories to tell.
Choosing to attach better meanings to the events in our lives doesn’t absolve the events themselves. We don’t ignore them. We don’t act as if they didn’t happen. We don’t pretend they didn’t hurt.
Instead, we choose to say Yes, and…
Yes, this person hurt me. And I discovered how resilient I am in the process.
Yes, this loss left a hole in me. And I’m so grateful for the time we had together.
Yes, the way I was treated was unfair. And it’s helped me make sure I don’t repeat the pattern in my own life.
Yes, my parent was this way. And I’m so grateful I broke the chain with my own kids.
Because what is the alternative?
We attach an unhelpful meaning that does nothing but weigh us down. A constant shadow that sneaks up as soon as it’s sunny again.
It’s akin to anger. We hold on to a hot coal hoping it burns the other person.
But it never does. It simply burns us.
Better lives begin with better stories. We are meaning makers. The characters and events may be out of our control, but the stories we tell are not.
If you find value in the things I publish here, it’d mean the world if you’d share it with someone else. It’s the only way this space and community continues to grow.
✌️ and ❤️,