The stories I don't tell
In week 45 of the Great Wake-Up, we were challenged to share a story we've never told.
I am - largely - an open book. The things I think and feel are typically writ large across my face (sometimes to my cost, but I've come to accept that I'm someone meant to live honestly). This means I've spent a fair bit of time trying to think of a new story to tell, without much luck.
What became clear, as I touched on a couple of stories that I've not shared, is that there is a closed chapter in my book. And it's going to stay that way.
Some of the stories I keep there are events I am ashamed to own, but they are also events that I know are not a true picture of me. They are unfortunate convergences of fear and ignorance, and they act to firm my resolve and shape the person I am determined to be. I can see no benefit in opening them to the scrutiny of others without context, letting them loom larger (or smaller) in the totality of me than they should.
Other stories are works in progress, where I am still seeking the meaning in shifting strands. These snippets are waiting to be woven into my larger story as their import becomes clear. If you've ever played "rivers" on a beach, you'll know what I mean... Sometimes the tiniest tweak changes the course of the entire river, when it would have just pushed through a larger dam.
Sometimes the meaning in a story takes a while to show up, so I am content to wait, and let things settle, before opening unfinished chapters.