“I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to become.” Carl Jung
Typically, I like to give the platform for sharing wisdom to the voices of women, but I’ve been chewing on the idea for a while now about how to tell some of my own stories, or even why to tell them, so this thought by Carl Jung jumped out to me, resonating with where I am in own musings about telling stories.
I’ve been told that I’m a “private person.” Seriously, I’m not sure quite what this means. From what I’ve observed, most humans are “private” about sharing personal and vulnerable things about themselves and I wonder, does being “private” make me less relatable? If instead I share my moments of connection rather than stories of pain and triumph, will you still feel an understanding and connection with me?
And how do I tell a story without impacting others in that story? Especially a story that includes, for example, my children’s lives. So far, I have not been able to come up with a way of doing this without a certain amount of trampling on people I love and their life experiences; something I feel unwilling to do.
Or what about the idea of sharing a story that has deeply impacted my own life but feels way too tender to just open up about. Maybe I’m different than other people in this respect, but I like to think I reserve the right to hold onto certain private feelings and still be liked and accepted as someone of value rather than being told I’m a private person as if there’s something wrong with that.
I also wonder how I tell a story without assigning blame or imposing on other people, or even how to tell a story and speak truth to my share of any responsibility of events. It all gets feeling a bit too convoluted. So, I ask myself the question, Why do I want to tell this story? Is it to create an aura of connection? To get others to listen to me? To vent any pent up wrath of feeling wronged? Perhaps it’s a bit of all of the above…
Humans seem to love a good story, after all, isn’t this the basis of books and movies? Although, books and movies aren’t really in person, they hold emotions and passions that become a relatable way to tell a collective snapshot of history or pass down a ritual that weaves a sense of connection throughout.
The thread that I most often repeat in my posts and sharing’s is that of the moment; for without the moment, all we have is the past and the future. The past having already happened tends to be a place of regrets and lost opportunities, while the future, as many of us are experiencing right this very minute, can be of worry and uncertainty. For the most part, I find either place less than comforting.
It’s the moment that really gets me excited. The place I am living and breathing right now. The place where I connect, laugh, share, walk, sing, dance, become. I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to become, in this very moment.