The Stories We Tell Ourselves

The most dangerous and powerful stories are the ones that we tell ourselves about ourselves.  Our self-talk can lift us up or take us down.  We sometimes tell ourselves stories about how others perceive us.  We tell ourselves that we know what they are saying about us. And for the most part we are wrong.

Sometime back, I took a series of classes on meditation and mindfulness.  This was my first steps into looking at the stories I was telling myself.  Shockingly, they weren’t all good. Some gave me false pride, others put me down.  After every heartbreak, I would swear that I would never love again or that if I just reached out and talked to them I could coax them back into my life.  This for the record, only worked twice and in both cases it wasn’t good for anyone involved.

By far the most dangerous ones, I’ve told myself are the stories about how much work something is going to be or not be.  In the latter case, I assume something is easy and then I am mired in self-doubt when I get stuck or it turns out to be the latter.

As you know from my previous posts, I am list kind of person. I write lists to keep myself motivated and on track.  Somethings are harder than other.  Those items are the ones that are necessary but rile my anxiety.  Anything that involves making a phone calling or asking someone for something/help will generate a story that only feeds my anxiety.

It is those stories that we tell ourselves about how much work or how awkward something is going to be that are dangerous.  We delay and don’t get what we need to get done which sends us into a negative spiral.

A lot of us complain about adulting. It is a word that some people snicker , others chastise people for using it and some embrace. One of the reasons, why so many of us complain about it that we weren’t prepared for adulthood.  We weren’t prepared to deal with the thousand things that happen in a day at work then to come home to more work.  We didn’t really pay attention to all the things our folks did to make our world work, if we had responsible folks which some of us didn’t have.

We didn’t realize that our folks were just as lost as we are at times.  They just didn’t tell us.

There were twenty-six items on my to-do list this morning.  Six of those things were stress inducing.  I’m now down to to only three items. One of which is a shower that I will get after walking the dogs this evening.

Those six anxiety/stress inducing things involved telling a friend I couldn’t do something, chores I had been avoiding and asking for something.  Everyone of them is done.  How?

Well, first, today was a good day. I slept over eight hours last night, didn’t have to leave the house and I’ve been in comfy clothes all day.  The last several days have been good as well.  I’ve talked a lot to my sweetheart about his anxiety lately and it has helped me to look at mine.  So, I put them on the list, starred them and then looked at them.  The chores needed doing so I spaced them out. The asking and telling, I asked myself what as the worse that could happen.  And then did it.

I’m a storyteller.  We are all storytellers.  It is time that we took control of the superpower that we all have and used it for good.

Love,

Lu

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Lu Friday’s Bookshelf

Misc 081Well, dear readers, I once again have a Kindle thanks to the generosity of a friend (Thanks Mr. Scott).  I have finished one book and am half way through another one.  In the morning before work, I am sitting down with my coffee and reading as I finish my breakfast. It is a relaxing way to start the day. I admit that leaving my books has been pretty hard this week, but to work we must all go.

Entera Files by Leanna Renee Hieber ~ A week in and I wish there was more time in the day to read.  Unfortunately, there is this little thing called work that gets in the way.  From the days after the assassination of  Abraham Lincoln to the streets of London, this story continues to delight and intrigue me. I can’t wait to see where it goes. The language is beautiful and the imagery amazing.

Here is the description of the book from Amazon:

London, 1882: Queen Victoria appoints Harold Spire of the Metropolitan Police to Special Branch Division Omega. Omega is to secretly investigate paranormal and supernatural events and persons. Spire, a skeptic driven to protect the helpless and see justice done, is the perfect man to lead the department, which employs scholars and scientists, assassins and con men, and a traveling circus. Spire’s chief researcher is Rose Everhart, who believes fervently that there is more to the world than can be seen by mortal eyes.

The Demise of Foxy Jack (Adventures of X Pirates of Book 1)  This is the latest book by Edward Medina and I can’t wait to read it.  Medina writes with the zeal of  showman and the talent of Shakespeare. You can find an excerpt on his blog, Just Sayin’.  The Demise of Foxy Jack follows up where the Murder of Crows left off. The second installment of the new X-Pirate series is coming out soon and I can’t until the next one and I haven’t even read this one, yet.

Want to add my book to your pile, Blood Child? It is available on Amazon. What’s on your reading pile? Come one, don’t leave a girl hanging…

Talking to Myself

I spend a lot of time talking to myself.

Day in Day out.  I tell myself stories.  Sometimes they are good stories. Other times they are just ways to the time and I don’t mourn them when I lose them to memory. Lately, I have been telling a lot of stories and they have making their way onto the page.  Two of those stories were written in the days that followed my beloved Papa being admitted to the hospital.  I talked to myself and wrote a story. And then another.

Two poems and then another story.

The week and the summer have passed quickly.  Papa has been released.  He has given up his beloved beer in order to spend the rest of his life with the family he made possible.  The beer he gave me inspired a neighbor to cut my lawn when I left it on his front porch.

I stepped in front of the mike and didn’t freeze.

I stepped out of my comfort zone and used the words I tell myself to send a message to the universe. And another poem was birthed.

Met someone new for coffee and another story was trapped on the page.

A friend stopped by and we shot a video to help get my novella, Blood Child, out into the world.

And then it started raining in my house.

I am pretty sure there is another story or poem about to burst forth.