For the first part of this post, click here.

I remember the feeling of the cold medal chair frame in my hands. I was holding onto the sides of the chair as if to keep me from running out of the room.

I had just told my life story.

People I barely knew were weighing in. They were told to. It was part of an exercise for our counseling class; each of us had to tell our story, then share what we observed in each other’s. Not a big deal. I didn’t have a tragic or sordid past. I had gone into class thinking it would be easy. There wasn’t anything shocking to tell about my story. I’d share my life, people would say, “OK,” and move on.

Only that’s not what happened. All of a sudden, my classmates’ words started to poke at wounds I thought had healed and others, I didn’t even know were there. At one point, a woman said:

“In your story, there seems to be an absence of ___________, … have you ever thought about that?”

All of a sudden, I understood why counselors have couches. Because, “No I never realized there was something missing in this area, but now that you say it, it makes a lot of sense for why I feel broken in these other areas that I didn’t share today.” —I thought, but didn’t say out loud. Instead, I held onto the chair. I tried to graciously take in what was said, and prayed for our instructor to move on to the next person.

All of us have a story.

Our lives are not as neat as they look on Instagram. They’re definitely not as pretty. And chances are, like me, there are parts of your story that you wish weren’t true. Parts that if given the choice—and a very big pink rubber eraser—we’d be tempted to make go away. After all, if we were to continue our Spring Cleaning metaphor from last week—isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Make things look as if nothing bad or dirty ever happened to us?

It certainly seems like it would help.

Only, our hearts, souls, and bodies, aren’t made of the same materials as our houses and apartments. They can’t be replaced like old refrigerators or bad lightbulbs. And the aching parts of us that we hide, like stuffing our mess in a closet, eventually come out whether we want them to or not. Because, no matter how we try,

We’re not surface people. 

Life happens to us, leaving marks that can’t be seen from the outside. Life happens to us, and none of it is neutral. For better or worse, life sticks to us. And the process of healing, of making it stick and sting less, is often more than Swiffer or Mr. Clean can handle.

The things my classmates spoke into my story that day, were hard to hear. But they were true. They were things that were negatively impacting the way I lived my life, and the relationships I was investing in. Though I’d thought I had my life figured out and under control, the reality was that it was controlling me. Parts of my story were hurting me, my future, and even those around me.

My counseling class gave me an invitation to pay attention to my story in a way I never had before. More importantly, it gave me an opportunity to grow, change, and heal from it. Eventually, it led me to pursue counseling for myself, and it literally CHANGED my life.

Our life stories aren’t neutral. They have blessed us, and they have scarred us. But sometimes, we don’t realize how badly they have done the latter, until we’ve traveled far down paths riddled with unhealthy coping mechanisms and even addiction. The good news is, there is always time to turn around.

If you are in a place where you suspect your past is effecting your present and future, now would be a good time to think through your story. Or, if you have never looked at your story before, but have some space in your schedule this season, now might be your time.

In Thursday’s post, I will share a few ways to help get you started and begin your journey . 

What parts of your story, do you keep hidden?

What parts have you forgotten? Or perhaps, not noticed?

 

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