Storytelling: A Powerful Tool for Healing
The past week of my life has been all about stories. Since the release of You’re Meant to Move–itself a collection of stories–I have been given the gift of hearing so many compelling, personal and eye-opening stories from others. Getting to the root of my own story has been such a big part of my journey toward self-discovery and at the heart of conquering pain as well.
The stories we tell ourselves form the blueprint of our lives. And the stories we share with the world can change a life. One of the things I have learned is that setting stories free is a path to healing, to transformation and to freedom. Stories must be tested. Storytelling tests us as well. So much of what we allow ourselves to achieve and to feel in our lives is connected to stories – maybe those we have been told or the ones we tell ourselves, or both.
When I signed up a couple months ago to do a storytelling program, it was mostly about building the assets I needed to get the word out about my book and get hired as a keynote speaker. However, the experience turned out to be a whole lot more. The first part of the process was of course about figuring out what story to tell. My rational brain conjured up some great story ideas that had appeal for a professional audience but weren’t necessarily tied to the “why” behind my business and where I invest all my time and energy.
I did finally get to a story that ended up being anchored on the moment when I first experienced debilitating pain in my back. I didn’t plan on having this be the storytelling moment captured on film both because it was so long ago and also because it is so far removed from the business I ended up creating…or at least I thought it was. I was convinced that there was nothing else to say about that incident.
It didn’t seem relevant anymore that the moment my pain appeared was scary, unexpected and hard for me to accept. It doesn’t REALLY matter that I never got to believe in my dreams . . . they were foolish anyway. The likelihood that I could have ever made it on Broadway was so slim. I was a big fish in a small pond in so many ways and anyway I never was able to master single leg wings in tap class. I was just a nobody and a naive little girl.
But when I stood there on Friday in the bright lights with the camera running, and my mouth opened to retell the experience of that fateful night almost 30 years ago…I was instantly transported. The familiar blur of stage lights, the pressure to perform, the solid wood under my feet….it was all too eerily similar. And I was right back there looking out into the darkness as pain struck out of nowhere wondering, “Why is this happening to me?”
Because my first experiences with pain happened when I was so young, my tools for processing pain never really developed either. I didn’t have the wisdom or perspective to understand pain was temporary. I also had all the evangelical brainwashing to believe there was a “reason” for the pain–maybe a lesson I was meant to learn or a sin for which I needed to atone.
All of these stories absolutely destroyed my sense of self. I see that now. I have a long way to go but coming head-to-head with my own self-doubt and grief really pushed me to acknowledge that I don’t need to wait for anyone to give me permission to show up authentically, to take up space and to use my voice. I realized I had been waiting for some kind of sign that it was “time” to accept myself . . . to feel I had earned the right to speak up, to help others, and to offer myself as a resource.
But it just isn’t true. Our stories are all that we need.
