Trainer Bob was talking about how they were helping their contestants write new history for themselves. Because their old history was a merry-go-round of eat, gain weight, feel bad, eat. That’s all they knew.
History shares the same latin root as story. In French, it’s essentially the same word, histoire.
You live out of your history, your story, your histoire.
You repeat your history. You repeat it in action, by reliving its patterns over and over again. You repeat it to others in the way you speak of yourself. You repeat it in the graffiti you post to the walls of the social web–the tweets, the statuses, the posts.
It tells you who you are. The archetype you are living out. The character, the plot, the villains–it’s all there in your old history. It is the operating system, the source code for your life.
Which is why change is so very hard. Change is starting over. It’s reformatting the hard drive of your life. Rewriting the source code. Without turning off the machine.
Yeah–hard stuff, this change.
But sometimes in life, you reach the point where it becomes necessary. It’s reformat the hard drive, or keep crashing over and over. So as hard as it is, you do it.
You do it. You do a new story into being.
You act it out. You think it over. You talk it out. You write your way through it.
All this acting and thinking and talking and writing is creating a new history. It’s filling up a new notebook with enough bits and pieces of a different plot, different character, different villains, that it becomes a workable playbook.
Lately, I have seen evidence that my family and I have been creating a new history. I’ve seen it in family conversations that aren’t the same old conversations. I’ve seen it in the number of times I’ve found myself stumped by a new problem thinking “Well, I’ve never seen THIS one before.” I’ve seen it where new options are appearing to me, almost like a in video game where I’ve achieved a new level.
It’s very cool. Very scary and uncertain, but cool, and definitely worth sharing.