What to do when the story we wrote isn't the one we have

Allowing our stories to surprise us

Do you remember teachers showing us how to write an essay? We learned about the introduction, thesis, supporting paragraphs and a concluding paragraph. We could outline the entire process, prove our point, and guarantee an end that supported our argument.

I wish writing (and life) followed that process more often.

Instead, I outline where I think the project is heading, curious to see if the creative journey will line up with my projections.

I have yet to arrive at the same end I envisioned. Not once.

It used to annoy me. Until I realized I usually end up somewhere better.

How do you handle abrupt chapter changes in your story? You know — the chapters were you genuinely thought you had a good sense of where your story is heading and then — BAM — plot twist.

I’ll go first.

I don’t handle them well.

Even when I see them coming. I do all the things extra emotional people do. I pre-grieve the upcoming change. I intentionally reflect on the shifts that will be demanded of me. I mourn and process and prepare. I literally know it’s coming and I’m still shocked. Why didn’t someone prepare me?! I wonder.

It’s hard to release the story we have in our heads of how life will go. Even when chapters change and surprise twists shock us, we still think the primary arc of our story is going the way we thought it would. Why is it so hard to accept the arc changes? That the book summary we created needs draft updates?

We make ourselves miserable comparing our original draft with the actual lived reality in front of us. Arguing and bargaining and manipulating, working tirelessly so the stories will match.

The terrible truth we deny is that they don’t match. They can’t. We don’t get to write a story at one point in our life and expect it to remain static.

Humans evolve and become and break and heal.

And here’s the thing. If we keep forcing our old story to be true, we’ll remain stuck in a small version of possibility. We’ll miss doors that open, people we could love, new stories that could breathe us home. We’ll miss the beauty of this moment. The one we can’t see when we’re obsessed with the incongruence.

A college beach trip when I was 19 or 20.

Since the age of 17, I knew I wanted to be a pastor. Then I turned 36 and a voice buried deep in my soul started whispering. I’m a writer too. I tried to blend the pastor thing and the writing thing together for four years. Seriously, you should see the amount of digital journal space I used up trying to endlessly rearrange my life so I could fit these dual callings. I’d find a new rhythm for oh, two days, and then it fell apart.

Massive burnout in 2020 and 2021 forced my hand. My body made it absolutely clear I could not pastor full-time much longer. So I started listening to my body. I learned to trust her above all else. We made hard decisions. We disappointed people. We grieved. We shifted.

The story I wrote for my life at 17 years old stopped mid-sentence at the age of 40.

I hated this. I liked those chapters. That storyline is how I knew who I was and how I was doing. It told me when I was successful and when I’d gotten off track. Others knew how to locate me in that story.

So. Much. Grief.

And…

In the past year that I allowed my story to veer off script, I’ve eased into my wholeness in a way my former story couldn’t touch. After lots of therapy and reflection and forgiveness, I have deep love for all my former chapters. I look back on her and smile. She did the absolute best she could. No shame. Just compassion.

Photo by Nong V on Unsplash

What about you, my dear reader?

Are there seasons where the story of your life veered off script? Maybe an illness or unexpected loss stopped you in your tracks. Maybe a relationship shifted and your story crumbled to the ground. Maybe a global pandemic hit and life flipped upside down. Maybe aging and mortality caused you to look back with regret. Maybe something out of your control shoved you into a challenging season.

Or something great came along and interrupted the story you always thought you’d have.

However it happens, here’s to sitting with chapters that surprise us. Grieving and honoring the transitions. Taking a hot second to realize the arc we anticipated has truly changed. Celebrating courage and hard decisions. Allowing ourselves to evolve and deepen in this one life we get to live. Trusting we have permission to change our minds and grow in a new direction.

I hope we’ll have the courage and audacity to allow our stories to surprise us. To deal with everything that brings up. To step through open doors that pop up out of nowhere with new plot twists. Ones we could never have written at the tender age of 17.

Here’s to stories that have a mind of their own. Stories our hearts have been longing for the whole time.

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