I shared my story tonight,
was witnessed by my recovery family
as I told the tale of the last
two and a half years of my life.
There were moments where
I thought I might not make it through,
so overcome was I by emotion.
But I breathed, I paced myself,
I spoke through the emotions,
I let my family see me.
Afterwards, these beloveds gave me hugs.
they told me they were proud of me,
of how far I had come.
They told me they were inspired by my story,
my willingness to be vulnerable,
to speak my truth, to be seen so deeply.
Life is a mystery;
it can only be understood looking backwards.
As I look back on the last two years,
I can see that the worst day of my life
was the greatest gift—
of freedom, of authenticity,
of finding my true power,
and expressing it out in this world.
After being blessed in my heart
with the miracle of forgiveness
and seeing with new eyes
for a few glorious, light-filled days,
the weight of real life
came crashing down upon me
and with it the story I had told so well.
It was the story of being wronged,
the story of betrayal, victimization
I have rehearsed it frontwards,
I know it word by word
and line by line;
hell, I could give a doctoral dissertation on it,
defend it before a group of intellectuals,
and I’m sure they’d award me with a degree in it—
Lorien Nemec, Ph.D.—
yes, I’m THAT good at my story.
As the familiar feelings of depression,
heaviness, sadness and powerlessness returned
I wondered why I couldn’t sustain
the good feelings for longer.
And then it occurred to me
(again, because I knew this already)
I’m always at choice.
If I want to change
I need to keep making the new choice
until it becomes a habit…
Otherwise the old choices
will always take over.
It’s time to wield this power of choice
and keep telling the new story
until I’m as good at telling it
and living it
as I’ve been with telling
and living the old.
Reframing the story,
telling a new narrative.
It’s one where I can be grateful
for the big changes,
seeing them as openings
to new possibilities.
The only thing I have to lose
is my old stories,
and I have everything to gain–
this whole life in this one moment,
so delighted to pour blessings
into my body, heart and mind,
this wonderful blossoming
into new potentials,
the magic that hides,
for me to let go of my judgment
of how things should be
so that I can receive the majesty
of this moment as it is right now.
Don’t let them tell you you can’t.
Show them you can.
But don’t do it for them,
do it for yourself.
There is a fire in your belly.
Breathe, stoke the fire!
Let it burn more brightly.
Let it incinerate the rotten stories
they force fed you,
clear them out, make space!
It is time to tell your own stories,
written by the Self that knows
the real you.
Tell us the stories of life,
of beauty, of sensuality,
of wild fertility, of dancing,
creatively, uniquely YOU!
It all begins in the mind
although we think
that this world that filters in
through our eyes, our ears
is something outside of us
and that life is something
that happens to us…
But it begins in the mind
and all we can ever live
is our own story.
Start to notice
the little voice in your head
about this or that.
Notice the tone of its words,
how it has an opinion
Is this voice telling the truth?
Most of the time, no.
But do we believe it?
Most of the time, yes.
And what is the remedy
for this insanity?
Notice. Be aware.
Be the conscious author of your story.
The world isn’t outside of you
and life doesn’t happen to you.
The world begins inside of you,
and life is a story you tell.
It’s a relief to know
that if the story
I keep telling myself
is making me sad
(mad, anxious, hopeless)
I can always change it.
The ability to witness
our life narratives
is truly a gift.
May I use it wisely.
May I tell a story of joy.