The Narrative We Tell Ourselves

The worst obstacles we often face are the ones we create. The narrative we tell ourselves. We live in an age of social media jealousy that drives twisted views on reality. Yet, social media offers a unique insight to the lives of those around us. We all have something to say, and we all have talents that the world needs to thrive.

Wherever I have traveled in the world, we all experience similar hopes, dreams, and often share in the feeling of inadequacies. America often booms of confidence, but inside it really is hurting. New Zealand breathes a softer confidence, but has a resilience like many countries that have faced decades of hardship and triumph.

I often trace my steps back to my roots. I follow the pathways in my mind to find a sense of familiar in the unfamiliar. I walk valleys of pain to find the truth in my experience that allows me to see the depth of other’s stories.

I started reading a book called The Women of New Zealand by Helen M. Simpson. I found it in a tucked away book store that captivated my attention and my imagination. As I flipped through the pages, I realized the history that breathes in the narrative of a nation. Yet, the book only has the perspective in the collection of diaries and letters of one side of the story. The Maori’s perspective seems unaccounted for, and I imagine, have a far different perspective on the invaders of their land.

I cannot speak for the works of history, nor the narratives created in the past. I can only speak of the now. As the world spins in turmoil over unnecessary deaths, I wonder the narrative we are telling ourselves. Some leaders speak of chaos, while others speak of peace. Revolutions are rising, yet, daily life still continues on.

I still sip my tea while watching the different perspectives of the global and local news. I listen carefully to the policies that may effect Fern and I’s life. The world seems to be tightening on immigration, but they have forgotten how they came to be in the country in the first place.

We are all immigrants. All our ancestors have traveled across great valleys, climbed over mountains, and have sailed the seas to find a better life. There just weren’t required documents in centuries past to help your family achieve a better sense of living.

It pains my heart to see the big league history makers shoving the door towards those who are simply seeking peace. Peace of mind. Peace for their family. Peace for their daily life. Their narrative is one of pain and resilience. Thousands are dying at the hand of someone’s prejudice, and it sadly has been happening since the dawn of humans.

We are the judgers, yet we fear being judged.

The pain however is not without hope. It is not without communities coming together to demand change from those who are corrupt in their use of power. As compassionate humans we have the capacity to move forward with the way we turn our narrative. In the words we speak every day, and in the words we share with the world.

How we speak to ourselves is important. How we speak to one another is even more important.

What narrative do you tell yourself? To others?

Our world may be hurting, but it is not without hope. If I settled for the narrative that was spoken around me, I would not be where I am today. I would not be fighting for my little family of two, or striving to make the world better in every possible way I know how.

When we shift the narrative we are living in, we have the capacity to reach our full potential, to be ourselves, and to open up space for those who need our loving compassion around us.

Sometimes I want to buy into the narrative of fear, of pain. I want to crumble under the weight of all the obstacles I have to jump through just to reach the realm of my dreams. There are days where I feel inadequate, where I don’t feel like enough. I fear for the future, the paperwork of life, and the obstacles hiding in the dark.

Fear has the power to drive, or the power to cripple. As I get stronger in body and in heart, I reach for the possible in the impossible. The comfort in the uncomfortable. And the familiar in the unfamiliar.

The narrative we tell ourselves is important. The way we navigate our fear is entirely up to us. The best we can do is reach out with resilience, hope, and love. To see a better tomorrow, we have to strive in today.

Today I strive. Tomorrow I hope.

Love and Light,

Bethany Jane







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