Last night I was chatting with someone who hadn't known me when I was ill, and they were asking questions, expressing surprise at the answers. Yes, we had a stairlift, and all the other paraphenalia that disability tends to bring. Yes, I had carers. It seemed so strange. Here was I, vibrantly healthy, talking about a past that seemed to belong to someone else. And yet it was all true. I told 'my story' and yet it didn't feel like' my story'; I was quite disocciated from it. I wasn't that person any more.
Fast forward to this morning, when I woke up telling myself a very convincing story about how much I had to do this week, how busy it was going to be, how difficult etc etc. And did I believe it? Yes! Fortunately, I caught myself mid-story and stopped. Was the a useful story to be spinning on Monday morning? No! Was there another story I could tell which was equally 'true', but more useful? Yes!
So....the story I'm telling myself this morning is that, in a recession, I am so lucky/blessed that I have a full appointment diary this week, that I am priveleged that people trust me enough to tell me their stories, and brave enough to want to ask for help to change their 'stuff'. How lucky am I that clients want to share with me their changes. How different does it feel to tell that story? It has changed my outlook for the week, my feelings of gratitude, and therefore my feelings of happines, and my body is relaxed and my mind positive.
Story telling....powerful stuff!
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