There’s often a story that we tell ourselves during certain stages of life. A story that’s usually one-sided and shaped based on our very real perception of our personal experiences. But there’s no such thing as a one-sided story and everyone’s version holds weight in the uniqueness of its existence. Telling our stories is how we move the needle toward consensus, compromise, and the foundation of democracy. It’s how we learn to live with each other on the one planet that we have and how we highlight the similarities of billions of individuals living the gift of the human experience. When we focus on our similarities, we move a little closer toward the eradication of hate for ourselves and others. During my healing journey, I found that my mind was typically biased toward certain views because of the stories I’d tell myself. It was much easier for me to believe what I’d been conditioned to believe, rather than put myself in someone else’s shoes to understand their point of view. I believed my thoughts. Coming to grips with views other than my own meant stepping out of my comfort zone and widening my lens so I could get a full picture. Elevating my consciousness beyond the self-aggrandizing views that led to my survival.  

Changing my perspective completely altered how I viewed myself, my experiences, and my relationships. I had to remove the lens of the victim and tell myself a different story. A pivotal step in my journey toward healing. I knew the only way I could thrive was to free my mind of the victim mentality that kept me operating in survival mode. When I put on the lens of responsibility, the stories that once played so vividly in my mind were all of a sudden muddled with uncertainty. This is why I forced myself into deep reflection as part of my commitment to healing myself.  

The urge for me to begin my inner healing work stemmed from tragic losses I’d experienced. I needed to take control of my mental health after depression and anxiety tried to kill me. It prompted thoughts that had me questioning if I would be better off not being alive. The pain I experienced felt unbearable.  

I didn’t understand these stories that were playing in my head. There was this assertive voice I didn’t recognize, and it was drowning out the voice I knew to be mine. This new voice was dangerous. It was loud and full of destructive thoughts. It was cancerous, and I had to figure out how to remove it to survive. I had a vision for my life and I knew I wouldn’t be able to step into that vision and thrive if I couldn’t find the voice that reflected the thirty-year-old man I’d fought so hard to become. I started my search by examining the stories I’d been telling myself about myself, then made my way to understanding my perception of the world around me.