Reframing My Own Narrative
How giving myself permission to be bad allowed me to come to terms with something (or rather, someone) beautiful
I haven’t shared anything here in a while. I’ve been traveling, recovering from Covid, going through the usual summer psychodrama (not to be confused with the requisite drama of other seasons). My head’s been swimming in uncertainty, disrupted by occasional, unexpected epiphanies, none of which I feel ready to articulate.
Despite this resistance, I forced myself to write the other day, and to keep scribbling regardless of how terrible the writing was. I gave myself permission to be bad, something I often tell my students they need to do when writing. I walked the talk, and this is what came out of it - ME! Quite literally. My life’s protagonist trying to break out of her own head and take ownership of her narrative.
Sometimes giving ourselves permission to be bad is exactly what we need. With time, we can get into the habit of seeking out the beauty from every “bad”.
*
NARRATOR: I’ve always been the narrator, guiding my heroine down complex circuitous pathways, never allowing her to make rash decisions, keeping her safe. Now suddenly, she’s taken on a life of her own. She wants to be in the driver’s seat, scrap the third person perspective, as well as all my character arcs and plot ideas, and do things her own way instead. She says the distance between good and evil is not as great as we think. There’s an electricity In Between that she’s tasted, and it’s where she feels most alive. She’s setting out on a journey to get there, but she’s insisted I can’t join her. Well, I mean, that is quite hurtful. All these years together and now she’s dropping me like a hot potato. After all I’ve done…
The sound of a door shutting.
PROTAGONIST: I can finally see again and even my voice is starting to return. I needed to get out of there. I could hardly breathe. I think I’ve just outgrown my narrator, you know? It happens. He’d become too attached to me. It wasn’t healthy. He was supposed to narrate my story, not dominate it. We were supposed to co-create. Instead he ended up calling all the shots. First, he hid away my deepest fears and traumatic memories - okay, that might actually have been to protect me - but then he added all these characters that bullied and manipulated me, and it’s only when I finally insisted upon a plot change, that I stumbled upon the treasure chest of pain he’d tried so hard to hide from me. Except, much to my surprise, after all these years, what I once thought to be garbage had turned into gold. Enough for me to finally leave this shitshow of a narrator and take back what’s mine. My power. My story.
My new story will definitely include a circus, a hot air balloon ride, magic, and romance. Oh, and also, I haven’t really decided if I want to be the hero or the villain yet. But it’s my story, so I can always figure that out later. I want to be different than I was before. Loud. Crazy. Unpredictable. No one wants to read about a struggling school teacher who tries to make a difference through her wit and wisdom. I want to change! Even though the physical environments and settings in my story kept changing on a loop, or new subplots and characters kept coming and going, I always stayed the same. No one wants to read a story where the protagonist is stewing in her own sameness. What people want is the unexpected, me suddenly running away to join the circus as a dancing acrobat, or shapeshifting into a werewolf so I can howl out all my rage.
I am shaking with so much anger and I don’t even know who I’m angry with. Myself, I guess. What a coward I was that I couldn’t take over telling my own story when the time was right. But regret…no, that’s a thing of the past. I’m not her anymore. Yesterday doesn’t exist. Only now, only this moment. I just need to keep on moving. One step forward, then another, then another.
Is it just me or is this self autonomy thing starting to sound a lot like exercise?!
And then there’s that - my sense of humor! My under-used sarcasm and passive aggressive nature. Is that still part of who I am? Am I even funny? Or do I come across resentful? I need to unearth my original character sketch, figure out which traits I want to keep and which can be thrown. Then perhaps I can experiment with new ones.
NARRATOR: A few minutes in, and she was already scared, unsure of her decision to embark on such a perilous journey…
PROTAGONIST: Wait a second? Where did you come from? Have you been following me? Do you not understand - I FIRED YOU! Stop narrating my life!
N: Sorry. Force of habit. But the thing is, you can’t just leave me behind. I’m kind of a part of you, lodged in your brain. You could maybe tune me out, but that’ll be tough…
The sound of something being tuned out.
P: Inhale, 2, 3, 4. Exhale, 2, 3, 4.
And again.
And again.
Language comes from the head. But if I tune my head out, and thus my narrator, how will I tell my story? This is going to be trickier than I thought.
Breathing down into my heart.
P: Oh my God. There’s a little girl here, crouched in fear. I’d almost forgotten she existed.
(out loud) You’re free now, little girl. You can go.
LITTLE GIRL: (visibly scared, but with a trace of hope) I don’t want to go. I want to stay with you.
Will you be my best friend?
P: It’s heartbreaking, her desperation, her fear of rejection. I wish things could have been different, but there’s no room for that now. No regrets.
(out loud) Yes, little girl. I’ll be your best friend. And what’s more, we will have so much fun together. Because you are funny and wise and loving and smart and kind…and I could go on. I have so much to learn from you.
LG: Learn from me? That’s funny. Isn’t it usually the grown ups who teach the kids?
P: Not always. Not now. There is so much you can teach me, and I will teach you, too. We will work together. We will dance and sing and play…
LG: But don’t you remember? You had told me to stop doing all that. I was so upset when you did. I’ve been sad ever since.
P: I’m so sorry, little one.
It turns out I was wrong. And that wasn’t even me. It was Narrator. I’d allowed him to take over. He lives in my head, but I’ve tuned him out for now.
LG: You mean the way you tuned me out so long ago?
P: (to reader) I feel heavy. The hits just keep coming. Had I really been such a monster?
(out loud) Did I do that? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I shouldn’t have. I guess I am more of a villain than I realized. Could you ever forgive me?
LG runs into my lap and throws her arms around me.
LG: Of course, silly! Of course I forgive you.
P: I don’t deserve her. She is the sweetest thing. But it’s precisely that kind of thinking that made me tune her out. I had told her it was for her own protection. This world wasn’t built for people like her. But wasn’t that what N had told me, too?
It seemed to be a repeating theme in my story - keeping me safe. And yet never, ever, did I feel it. Not safety, not belonging, not home. Just storylines, oh so many different storylines, clogging up my headspace, making me lose sight of the only story, the only character, that really mattered.
(out loud) From now on, it’s just you and me, kid. No more safety net. And miles to go, with obstacles at every turn.
LG: (with rising excitement) Yaaay! But where are we going?
P: First stop - the thin line between Everything and Nothing. That is where our power lies.
LG: But that place is dangerous. People who can’t keep their balance fall onto either one side or the other, and sometimes even self-destruct.
P: I know. I know. That’s why we can’t lose our balance, and we won’t. But the electricity that gets generated from the friction between Everything and Nothing - black vs white, good vs evil, allowed vs forbidden, control vs surrender…
LG: Head vs Heart?
P: No, little one. Head shouldn’t be fighting with Heart. They both need to get along. You and N are going to have to get along if we want to survive this journey. But don’t worry…you’re in charge for now, because you are the sweetest part of my Heart. N can join later, when he’s learned to play nice.
LG: (excited at being put in charge) Yaaay!
So what does the electricity In Between do?
P: The electric tension that exists within duality, between two sides of every whole - that is the only place I’ve ever really felt alive. And maybe when we get there, I’ll have the power to return your voice to you, too. Then we can really sing our hearts out.
LG: I think I’d like that. It’s been so long.
P: Yes. It has. Too long. But why are you shaking, little one?
LG: I’m scared.
P: Of course you are. So am I. But that’s a sign. We must be on the right track. Fear will try to stop us, as he always has in the past. It’s just this time, we won’t listen.
LG: But Fear is loud. And he hurts my ears.
I place cushioned headphones over LG’s ears and caress her forehead till she falls asleep, then pop some noise-canceling earbuds into my own ears.
P: Not today, Fear. Not today. The narrator in my head has taken a sabbatical. Whatever shady deal you had going on with him for all these years, it’s over. New rule: I do not negotiate with terrorists. And you are the OG terrorist, if ever there was one.
(To be continued)
👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼
Wow. What a journey.