Get Rid of Your Story Once And For All

White fence perfect childhoodqWhen Michelle said to me, “You have to write your life story,” I thought, she must be crazy. I thought, who would be interested in my insignificant story. And on top of that …story…story…story… Story is what I discourage people from going into. Story makes me sick. At least when our story keeps us stuck in the past. Story! Hmmpfh. Well, here goes….

My parents married in December 1961 in Truckee, California. I was born in January 1963. The math says that I was not illegitimate. My parents married because they wanted to! I have a picture. They look happy, so they must have really been in love. Well, that’s my side of the story. I like it. I have photos with writing on the back. My father called her ‘Princess’ and I think she like it, because she signed her name Princess. My father joined the Navy and I was born in the naval hospital in San Diego, California. When I was three months old, my mother and I moved back to San Jose, California. We lived next door to my maternal grandparents. They owned both homes. My brother was born in 1965. I was 2, so I had mixed feelings. (Operative word: had)

My grandparents owned their own business, Proctor’s Antiques and Upholstery. They had a shop for a long time until they moved into their garage in the 70’s. My grandparents would get up every morning to go to work. They left the house to walk 20 feet to the garage to work. Everyday. My grandfather tore down the furniture and my grandmother sewed. She sewed for him for thirty years and then one day she stopped. Cold! He took up the sewing and she played cards. Solitaire. I guess that’s how it was for them underneath because years later I found out why she stopped sewing. He ‘forgot’ to pay into her retirement account all those years. It took her 30 years to find out, but when she did she was done. My grandma died about 17 years ago, so she never really needed the retirement anyway. She had alzheimers and so I don’t think she remembered that he did–I mean didn’t. Maybe my grandfather could have gotten another few years out of her before her memory went. My grandfather managed to gamble away what he had. He lives in a trailer now. He is old in 2008, but he farts dust.

How’s it going so far? I’m starting to see some patterns…and I just got started.

When I was 5 my parents bought their first home. It was huge! After we moved in, I started kindergarten and back then you could walk to school all by yourself, even on the first day. I wore my favorite dress. It had pink and purple flowers all over it and I felt like a princess. I wonder if my mother followed me or if she went back inside to drink a coke and smoke a cigarette.

My mother had eyes on the back of her head. I checked and couldn’t find them, but they were there. She knew when I was doing something I was told not to do, like ride my bike across the street. I guess that is why it surprised me a bit when she didn’t notice some other things that were going on with me. Maybe she didn’t want to know.

My mother is stubborn. So am I. My mother can handle 20 things coming at her at once and still have the kitchen spotless and the kids hair combed. I can handle 20 things at once, but choose to do some other things with my time. The kids can comb their own hair and they are better at it than I am. Not better than my mother, but definitely better than me. If you do comb your kids hair for them, say yes when they ask if they can shave their head. It’s easier, even when I’m not the one combing it.

When I was in the 4th grade, we moved to a really huge house. The first house was only huge because I was so little. Now I had my own bedroom and my own playroom. There was just one little problem. We had cockroaches for the first three years after we moved in. They came with the home and were really hard to get rid of and some could fly. When you turn the light on at night, they scurry to the edges of the room. We were taught how to empty our shoes in the morning. I could have put that on my list of things you don’t want to know about me.

We were pretty happy there for about a year and then things changed. One day my brother and I came home to an empty house. I called my father and asked him if he knew where mom was. He didn’t. My mother moved out and didn’t tell anyone.

My father decided to enroll us in our old school, drop us off in the morning. I would watch my brother after school, and my father would pick us up after work. I was about 10. The house was empty. I take that back. There were two child sized chaise lounges and a television. I am sure there was toilet paper, but I don’t remember ever using it. I think my father thought that was best. I didn’t think that was best.

With my brother 2 1/2 years younger than me, I was the responsible one. My brother liked to climb. One day after school he fell out of a tree and cut his head open. As the kid in charge, I took him to the neighbors. We had this routine for a year, and then my mother came back. We didn’t have to stay in that empty house any more. Then she left. Then she came back. Then she left. At some point she just didn’t come back anymore. I don’t blame her, I was a tough kid. Actually what I mean is I blamed her for a long time and made it mean that I wasn’t worth fighting for and that I was unloved.

What issues do you think I’ve had? What is my story? Is it easy to see why I might have lived in fear of abandonment? Can you imagine some of the ways I’ve shown up in my life as a result? Is it easy to see how I could feel all alone in any given situation? Can you relate?

Many of us grow up to give away our dreams, to sell ourselves out, and to live a life far below our potential. From what I have seen and experienced, it is the story we buy into (I did that) that our ego grabs onto and we veer further and further from our true essence and our Soul’s Purpose gets covered up until we don’t even know what it is anymore.

The purpose for sharing my life story will be for healing and connection and to show you that giving up your “story” is elemental in living your life’s purpose. As I take you on this journey, my intention is to illuminate the process of giving up our story and living a life of joy and passion. It will not be to convince you that it is easy or that no-one gets hurt in the process, but when we give up our story, stop hurting ourselves, and start listening to our heart…in the long run everyone is better off.

I had to give up the ‘story’ that I am unworthy of love and that if you know who I really am you will go away. What ‘story’ did you (or do you still) have to give up to live your soul’s purpose?