16 March, 2010


We all have stories – the stories of our days, our lives, our adventures… stories.  

My daughter tells stories about her adventures during the school day.  From the play ground to the discussions at her pod to the laughter at the cafeteria, her life is a tapestry of stories and experiences.  

I am not without my stories.  

Like my daughter, my days are often a tapestry of experiences that lend themselves to be related as stories.  It is these experiences that are my journey – they often shine light on the person I am as well as the aspects of my life that require exploration.  

Stories… the things we share with others readily

And then there are the stories that we don’t share.  The feelings and emotions that we keep to ourselves for various reasons.  The stories that remain isolated on the restricted shelves in the most dark and quiet corner of the library.  Some of those stories are there because we are uncertain as to how others will react, while other stories are there because the experiences are close to our hearts and to be shared with those with whom we are most intimate.  And sometimes they are on that highest shelf in the back of the stacks because of the various lives that are involved; they aren’t just our stories but are the stories of so many others to some degree.  

I have a story that probably needs to be told.  I need to tell it to let it go.  I need to tell it to come to terms with the emotions involved.  I need to tell it because it is a part of me and my reality that offers so many learning experiences for me but maybe for someone else as well.  I have a story that is also the story of my daughter, and I am concerned that the truth of that story will be lost if it isn’t written or shared or told.  

Stories are not just for us, but they are for those around us.  We can learn much from the experiences and adventures and mistakes of others… and perhaps that is another great reason to tell my story.  

I just don’t know where to tell it nor do I know where to start – but perhaps the chapter can fully end with its being established in writing.  

I just don’t know…


bechtoldlifework said...

Hi there - Thanks for coming by and leaving your comment on my blog. I love stories, I think they're the main means by which we construct (and deconstruct) our lives. You say you don't know where to start. I'm reminded of a line from a play I wrote: "Maybe you begin at the beginning, where dreams and memories intersect." I don't even know what it means, exactly, but I've spoken those words so many times that now they make sense to me at some deep level. I'm also thinking about fairytales. Sometimes the story comes out easier when we tell it as a fairytale.

Patty, Why Not Start Now?

Mama Llama said...

We do need to write our stories. Something in me doesn't like to write until they are finished--which does not bode well for an autobiography, I suppose! :)

Put it out there, start a new blog just for your story. Nobody has to read it until you are ready. You have an amazing, wonderful story of strength and survival. It deserves to be told and celebrated!

Be well, TE.

The Exception said...

Thanks - maybe that is the story - the getting through it and loving life over the events themselves.