We read books, we watch movies, we narrate tales to one another in an effort to connect, to refocus, and to channel our emotions. Some stories we repeat to ourselves often--like my tendency to watch Scrubs every night before bed--and some we repeat to our families until they have become--a sort of legend.
We tell stories of ourselves, and we tell stories to ourselves.
We create and we destroy through our own telling.
When I am stressed, I reread stories that make me feel hope, I watch shows and movies I can watch resolve, and yet, my own words tell stories to myself that work against these coping mechanisms. I read about the princess in trouble and her grand romance, but I tell myself love can't hold warmly through trial.
I watch the rising conflict in my rewatched media, but I tell myself the problem before me in reality is insurmountable.
Worse than these, I frequently avoid words altogether instead of pressing in to aid me.
My journals are bare from the past 5 years.
I have not known how to access my words to cope with power mad dictators (of my country and my workplace), the traumatic and long loss of a pregnancy, loss of all living grandparents, loss of my best dog, loss of my health to post pregnancy issues which arose unexpectedly, and loss of personal expectations of being a mom. I also gained, during this time, a beautiful and wild daughter. She also escapes the boundaries of language to describe or capture her.
It is remarkable to have a daughter. She learns insatiably and without my cognizance that I'm communicating something to be learned. I have many strong qualities I'd like to transfer down, but I have many tendencies I'd not like to see renewed.
I have found that, even if I have failed myself in this, I intentionally story to my daughter, rescribing anxieties, sources of anger, and sadnesses in ways that will empower her. She believes me when I tell her stories. She repeats them to herself.
I would do well to follow her.
