What’s the story that plays on repeat in your mind, the one you’ve carried with you for years?
We gifted my mom Storyworth a few years ago. Each week, she received a question, and at the end of the year, her responses were to be printed into a book for her children and grandchildren. My mother, however, turned the project into a full-blown book project. She didn’t just answer the questions, she wrote a 400-page book about her life’s journey.
The stories that shape us
She passed away a little over six months ago. This morning, in the quiet early hours, my eyes fell on her book resting on my book shelf. I picked it up and began reading her story as she experienced it. What struck me most were the significant questions that surfaced from hurtful experiences at a very young age: Why wasn’t I wanted? Why didn’t my family love me? Why wasn’t I important enough to be remembered?
These questions appeared in her story prior to the age of ten, yet they echoed throughout her life. They were the same questions I remember her voicing even in her later years.
And I have done this too.
Recently, I was reminded of a long-held, icky belief that I have been trying to discard for the better part of a decade. I can trace it back to childhood, yet it has reverberated throughout my life: I am too hard to love. I am high maintenance and expect too much. I am not worth of the extra work it takes to show intentional love.
This belief is not true, and it isn’t easily erased. When life presents the opportunity, this old story still plays on repeat in my mind.
I remember my dad sharing a similar message from his youth, one that he carried with him to Vietnam and back. Even in his later years, the question still lingered. And I see this pattern repeated in people I know and love: an old belief, set on a continuous loop, quietly shaping how they see themselves and the world.
When old stories lose their hold
I have spent years trying to re-write that loop in my own life. While the message no longer blares as loudly or as often, I am still caught off guard when it resurfaces. For a moment, it knocks me off balance. I wobble. Then, I steady myself again and remind myself of what is true: I am loved. I am worthy of love. I am worth the effort it takes to show me love.
I don’t know if my mom ever found a way to press stop on the stories that played on repeat in her mind. I hope she did. I hope she knew that she was wanted, loved by her family, and remembered.
More than anything, I want to live in my own truth as a gift to those I love. It is important to model that it is okay to press stop, to challenge the stories we learned too young, and to rewrite the beliefs that no longer serve us. We get to choose which story plays on repeat, and we get to choose one rooted in love.