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Note: Apparently we MMWs this week really needed reminders that we are heroes in our own stories, because here I am adding another one. I hope I can add something to the already wonderful conversation started by Ashley/Jessica and Kasey.
Many moons ago, I was a BYU undergrad taking an amazing
memoir-writing class.* Our final project was to write a 15ish-page memoir to
workshop with the entire class. Those last days of class before we turned in
final revisions were intense as we read and critiqued one another’s stories.
These people looked like your average students, people you’d
pass on the sidewalk or at church and never think twice about. But so many of their
memoirs were filled with terrible struggles: debilitating illness, child abuse,
bulimia, addiction**—more struggles than you would ever guess, because they were
buried, deep and dark, in secret places.
With the hurt, the failure, the agony, though, there was
passion and courage and bravery. I remember looking at my classmates with new
eyes. They were amazing. They had conquered so much. It was incredible to be
among them. And it seemed to me that they felt it too—the knowledge that they
had won through.
I don’t think I really grasped the power of that experience
until a few years later when, as a marriage and family therapy grad student, I
was studying narrative therapy. In essence, narrative therapy involves learning
to see yourself as the hero of your own story.*** In writing our memoirs, taking
a step back from the experience and looking at it more objectively, we saw
ourselves a different way. We were no longer the victims of our stories, but survivors—or
even better, heroes.
Now, I write fairy tale-esque fantasy, and as anyone who has
read “Rumpelstiltskin” knows, words and names have power. What we call
ourselves has power—even to influence who we are and who we become. There is a
power in storytelling, a power that goes beyond just the words of the story. We
make meaning of the world around us by the stories that we tell, both about the
world and about ourselves.
There have been times when I “wrote” my story as a hero and
times I “wrote” myself as a victim or a passive observer. Guess which times I
felt happier, stronger, more capable?
It doesn’t just work with writing longer memoirs. It works
with our thoughts, with our journal entries, with our blog posts, our Facebook updates,
our tweets. Every word we write, wherever it is, contributes to the story we
tell, which changes the stories we’ll tell in the future. We shape the past,
the present, and the future with our words.
* Taught by Louise and
Tom Plummer, who I can only hope to be like when I grow up. Gracious, funny,
willing to own up to all their faults—and their strengths. And perfectly happy to be curmudgeonly when it suited them.
** These are examples of the types of issues people wrote about, not the actual issues. I still abide by our classroom rule of confidentiality. Sure, it’s great to deal with your problems, but no one else should be revealing them for you.
*** Actual narrative
therapists out there, please don’t send me hate mail; I do know I’m
oversimplifying.
** These are examples of the types of issues people wrote about, not the actual issues. I still abide by our classroom rule of confidentiality. Sure, it’s great to deal with your problems, but no one else should be revealing them for you.
Love this!! I think it’s a great trend we had going this week. ;-)
ReplyDeleteI agree. Go us! :)
DeleteWell written. Good for us all to hear. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteI liked this idea a lot...stepping outside of our lives, how would we write about ourselves as the hero of our own story? An interesting thought and a lovely read :)
ReplyDeleteI know a lot of people struggle with their inner dialogue. I truly believe it has a huge effect when we keep those thoughts positive and encouraging.
ReplyDeleteYes. Just yes :)
ReplyDeleteAs always, well said, and great stuff to think about!
ReplyDelete