We talk often about the beauty and necessity of learning to tell our stories. But what stories are we telling? Here, second-year student Charlie Howell reflects on moving beyond the same old, tired stories that used to define him so that he can begin to tell a new one.
I used to think I was pretty powerful. No, let me say it another way: I used to think I had to be powerful to survive.
When I was young I experienced some traumatic events. They weren鈥檛 all life changing, but smaller traumas tend to add up over time. They also teach lessons, lessons that, sadly, become a way of life鈥攁 haunting existence.
One of the lessons I learned from my trauma was that people were powerful. Grown men were big and loud, and they made up the rules. Girls could make your heart hurt. Best friends could move away or choose certain vices over friendship.
So I assumed I must be powerful, too.
My power, or so I thought, came in my ability to affect women. I鈥檒l never forget when, in college, a couple of girls made me a mix CD (yes, I鈥檓 that old). It was a compilation of love songs with the title 鈥淗eartbreaker鈥� on the cover. They did it as a joke鈥攁 joke that hit a little too close to home.
Sadly, over the years this became my story鈥攖hat of a man powerful enough to break hearts. Whether it was getting too close to a female friend or developing a budding romance, my special skill became causing pain. Heartbreaker became my haunting existence.
Not long ago I walked into a meeting with my practicum leader and launched into a diatribe about the many broken hearts鈥攖hose I鈥檇 sustained and those I鈥檇 caused鈥攚hen he looked at me and said, 鈥淭hat鈥檚 a tired story.鈥�
鈥淲hat?鈥� I said, momentarily flooded.
鈥淚t鈥檚 time to lay your worn out stories to rest, Charlie.鈥�
Honestly, I haven鈥檛 been able to get those words out of my head for months. At first I was angry. I didn鈥檛 want to lose the story I鈥檇 been telling. It felt safe and comfortable. Then I realized something important: I鈥檇 spent over a year at 天美视频 peering into my past but still telling its story in the same old, worn out way. I knew more of my history, but I was still living as the same 鈥渄angerous man鈥� I鈥檇 always believed myself to be.
I think this is what my Practicum Leader was trying to help me see. Yes, I鈥檓 sure I have broken a heart or two over the years, just as I have had mine hurt on a few occasions, but that really isn鈥檛 the point. The point is the stories I鈥檝e told (and those that have been told about me) are still deeply impacting my existence. The past is still the lens through which I view the present, and that is a dangerous place to be.
It鈥檚 dangerous not because the old, worn out story of Charlie as heartbreaker is true, but because what I鈥檓 afraid of most鈥攂eing a bad guy鈥攊s actually the very thing keeping me from the intimacy I so deeply crave. I walk through the world careful to never get too close to any woman because I assume I鈥檓 going to crush her. And that takes me away from the thing that matters most: relationship.
We spend so much time at 天美视频 considering our stories鈥攐ur past trauma and pain. Lord knows understanding our stories matters, but I think we must be careful with the ways we use what we learn. How we engage our stories in the present is just as important as coming to understand the past. There comes a time when we must refocus our attention鈥攚hen we must take what we know and start telling new stories.
“How we engage our stories in the present is just as important as coming to understand the past.”
We live in a world so quick to place us in boxes. A world where dehumanization often comes in the form of definitions of who we are and who we are not. I don鈥檛 want to be a definition anymore. I don鈥檛 want to miss out on life and relationship because of pain left unhealed. I don鈥檛 want to be a heartbreaker.
Instead, I want to be a person鈥攁 person with a new story to tell.