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  • Writer's pictureTamina Miller

The Stories We Tell Ourselves and the Mud We Sit In

Earlier this week I had the ‘opportunity’ to revisit a story that has been playing in my mind for a very long time. One of those stories that brings a lot of discomfort and I’ve just been waiting for it come to a natural easy death. But that death wasn’t going to be this week and that meant a bit more discomfort, maybe even a lot.

Midweek I had supper with a very good friend who gently told me something I knew to be true but wasn’t willing to look at. This story may not come to a natural easy death any time soon… And it was very possible that the words on the pages may haunt me for a long time to come.

This conversation gave me pause. A time to reflect on this story and whether the story had any value in my life. Was it helping me or hurting me. Well this week it was very clear that it was hurting me. But I felt helpless to make the story diminish, even though I was really good at putting it on the shelf.

So what did I do? I gifted myself with some time to sit in my mud and sift thru the pages of my book. This also looked like deep rest as I cancelled my plans and plopped myself on the couch. I may have even indulged in a little Netflix binging. I ate my favorite snack and a little chocolate, talked to my dogs (who are incredibly great listeners!) and allowed myself to get very muddy.

Getting muddy isn’t the most beautiful thing in the world, but it turns out mud is great for your complexion! Sorting thru the story, wondering when it would end… then slowly realizing that I have had the power all along to write the closing chapter.

And that’s exactly what I did. It wasn’t easy, it took a lot of thought, a lot more mud… but it became clearer and clearer to me that by closing this story, it allowed the other character the ability to become the sole author of something that was really their story all along. A story that they may have been dragging their feet to write because they simply didn’t have to.

Let me tell you, even though the mud did not make me feel beautiful for a couple of days, it did get less murky. And this morning as I awoke, I felt fresher than I have in a long time. And just because I wrote the final chapter, doesn’t mean I don’t care. In fact just the opposite, my caring was not just for the other character in the book, but caring for myself.

This also doesn’t mean that there won’t be a sequel. But you can bet that if there is a sequel, I will be the author and I will see things clearer. You see once you learn to let something go, it doesn’t mean you are hard hearted. It means that you are finally able to trust that the best will work out for everyone involved. And my filling in of the chapters of someone else’s story isn’t necessary nor helpful in the process.

So as my mud is settling I’m feeling more and more awake, clear and bright. I’m able to put the book on the shelf with my other completed novels, heck I may even donate it to the library. It makes quite the read! And I feel myself ready to finish my Christmas preparations. And the first on that list?!

Working on a very special gift for my mom, and if you’re lucky I will even show you my progress on Facebook. Shhhh, don’t tell her, it’s a surprise! I think she is going to love it <3

Merry Christmas Everyone! I wish you a very merry time with everyone you love and invite you to close any chapters that may prevent you from having the best Christmas ever!

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