The story we tell about our lives, it is our house. It is the haven from which we can safely interact with the world around us. It is the collection of our lived experiences, ordered in such a way so that it all makes sense. It is our house, but more than that, it is our home.
Abrupt or slow, the foundation of our home can start crumbling. It can be abrupt, a sudden loss; an acute illness, a layoff from work, an unexpected breakup. But all too often it can sneak up on you, seemingly insignificant events slowly chipping away at the foundation of your house. Until one day you wake up and you realize your whole house has crumbled. Your precious belongings have fallen into a pile of rubble.
Denial. You desperately hang on to your past story. This cannot become your new reality. You will not accept it. You stay in your crumbled house. And while it is no longer a home, you can survive in this house. Is it worth it though, to exist without a home? To be surviving instead of living? No matter how much you pretend, the past is done and your home has crumbled.
Anger. How dare this become your new reality! How could your precious home, your beautifully crafted story, come crashing down? It is not fair, and you don’t deserve this! You did everything right, and yet this happened to you, you of all people? You will not quietly accept this. You will rage, rage against the dying of your story.
Bargaining. What if you could just patch up the foundation? Could you fix some beams, and cover up the holes? Could that bring back life as you knew it? You try, making so many superficial changes, compromising even more on your values, desperately clinging to the past.
Depression. But it’s all to no avail. No matter what you try, the broken down house cannot become your home again. Even when you compromise on everything, you realize you no longer fit in that life, and that life no longer fits you. Your old home is destroyed and your new home is not yet built, and that is so hard. This is where you stop fighting. This is where you sink down into a ball, and cry and cry and cry for your loss.
Acceptance. But then, some light. It comes in fleeting bursts. This curious feeling like maybe you will be okay, and your life will actually be worth living, even with your old home destroyed and your new home not yet built. It feels terrifying, and you are still doubtful. But for the first time, you feel a tentatively hopefulness. Maybe this challenge will not break you. Maybe you could even embrace this challenge and rise up.
The road ahead will be hard, filled with detours and dead ends, with an unknown destination. But put one foot in front of the other, and start on your journey to find your new house, your new safe haven. Start on the journey to craft your next story.
The end of your story marks the start of your journey.
Thank you for reading!
If you enjoyed this story, I recommend checking out Into the Heart of The Mountain. It’s the sequel to The Loss of Story.
And if you enjoyed this story and would like to support me, please buy me a coffee.
With love, Sarah