Narratives of hope
I’m going to be extra vulnerable right now.
I’ve struggled these last few days trying to figure out what I want to write about for this post. It’s not that I don’t have content: I do. But my mind is so overconsumed by current, overwhelming personal obstacles that I have little energy left for reflecting on past vulnerabilities. And honestly it may be a long while before I can share my present experiences.
In my past posts, I have written about successes, thoughts and musings, obstacles I’m on the tail end of, and obstacles from my past; but I cannot publish something so raw and new as my current struggles.
And it’s not about vulnerability this time. Actually, waiting a bit to share personal things helps vulnerability progress. At least that seems to be the case for me.
Writing and sharing my experiences is not only a way for me to feel like I can help others, but it’s also therapeutic for me. I’m taking charge of my own narrative.
Often our best insights and our best work in forging meaning happens in retrospect. While fighting a battle, we don’t have the energy or focus necessary to analyze our situation in a way that will give meaning. We only have the energy and focus to decide how we will act and react.
So yes, I write ALL of it. I write during some of the most painful moments. And I learn a lot through writing. But, what I write isn’t necessarily the right narrative. It’s a narrative in a moment. To tell and publish the whole story, I need the big picture, and the big picture includes the insights and forged meanings that come with retrospect.
Courage is to tell the whole story of your heart.
Not just a part of it. All of it.
My story will never be finished. But each narrative I share with you is filled with the hope and faith I learned to depend on through my experiences.
Because that’s what I want my narrative to be. A narrative of hope.
Thank you for sharing that hope with me.