What Happened When I Decided To Rewrite The Story Of My Life
Lack of fulfilment
From the age of twelve I live my life waiting for the moment that I could be my true self and would live in the way that I would feel fulfilled. But, here I am,62 years old, having quit my well paid and respectful but meaningless to me job, moved from Athens to my husband’s hometown, in an area that recently became a touristic destination, cooking for my own small restaurant where I welcome guests serving home cooked Greek food, a job that I love, and still feeling the same lack of joy, calmness and fulfillment, the same anxiety for every adversity I face, still trying to control the future, missing the present moment.
Coronavirus the cause of my awakening
Coronavirus was an awakening experience for me. The spread of this deadly infectious virus that overturned everything we took for granted in our daily lives, from the contact with our loved ones to the freedom to move around, forced me to realize that I do not want to exist passively anymore. I want to discover who I am in my core and experience an authentic life from now on that will fulfill me.
I started to follow well known coaches on self-development and self-helping, reading their books, articles, watching webinars and videos.
Almost everyone preaches the benefits of α very morning ritual which includes physical exercise preferably outdoors, meditation and journaling, in this process of discovering and evolving oneself.
I found myself ready to practice journaling and meditation, I felt in love especially with gratitude meditation, but myself resist to become an early morning workout person, though I comprehend the benefits.
I am not a lazy person.
I have no difficulty to get up early.
I don’t regularly exercise, but I feel committed to the process of self improvement and I could change course
So, why this resistance in exercising first thing in the morning?
Believing that there is an explanation for this and looking back, I discovered that from a young age I have established a specific pattern for starting my day. I need time to pamper myself, preparing him emotionally to leave home for the outside world. I usually have two cups of coffee, something delicious for breakfast, listen to music and browsing the internet or reading something short. With an exception however: the days when I go on an outing or on vacation. These days a few sips of coffee are more than enough for me to leave the house.
The story I was telling my self
I tried to recall when this sense of discomfort for leaving the house started and during the flash back, I met myself at the age of twelve, though a particularly good student, not willingly leaving home to go to school in the morning.
It was fall of 1978. My mother, my youngest brother and I had just moved from my hometown to Athens, because my father had just died, my mother suffered from depression and our relatives decided that it would be for our best interest to move near them so they could support us in this difficult situation. We had to move in a few days after my father’s funeral, because the schools would open, and it would be better for us kids to start in our new schools from the beginning of the school year.
I remembered me feeling pain, lost, and frightened in the unknown environment of the big city. Losing my father, I had lost everything: the only home I had ever knew until then, my friends and the environment I was living since I was born, but most important I had lost my grandfather from my father, who lived with us and whom we left behind. He was the next person after my father that I could rely on. We were living in the same house all my life, he was strong, cool and I was attached to him. I loved and admired him, and the pain from our mutual loss bonded us even more. Even we never spoke about that I was feeling that he was the person who more than anyone else could capture the taste, the intensity, the depth of this pain. And besides the pain of losing him (too), there was the guilt for living him all alone to deal with such a profound pain at his age. He never complained but he declared that he could not live in an apartment in the city and he did not follow us.
At that point, wakening up in the new house, facing the new reality, was hard enough on its own. Τhe prospect of meeting new teachers and classmates, more advanced and with different attitude, I was a country girl, didn’t make the idea of school attractive. I needed time to prepare myself, to gather my strength to face this big challenge too. So, I was getting up early enough to have breakfast and browse a magazine with nice colors, nice pictures, listening to music. And then I walked the two kilometers to the school, ensuring time to get used to the idea.
Changed point of view > new story
Ever since I need to pamper and prepare myself to face the new day as something hard, with the exception of a pleasant outing. And this because, fifty years now, I was telling unconsciously the story that I created at the age of twelve, under the emotion of deep pain and fear, victimizing myself.
I had to see the story I was telling myself all these years written down to understand how unconsciously I have lived my life up to now. Because looking back then after so many years of life and so many experiences, my point of view for this period of my life is gratitude. Gratitude for my uncles and my aunts that as soon as my father died, took matters into their own hands since my mother was falling apart. They all were living in the same neighborhood, where they rent a house for us too, so they could take care of us. And they did it, not only for me and my brother but for my mother also. And they did it with real concern and true love. Τhey provided us with a calm, stable and safe environment, raised us with our cousins and offered us the same love, the same support. I have so many memories of happy moments, funny moments, holidays, vacations, celebrations in this big family. The depth of all these I was able to appreciate later, when although independent financially and married, I was still receiving the same caring, the same pride for my every small or big achievement.
Changing the point of view of my story freed me also from the guilt for moving to Athens and leaving my grandfather behind. I admitted to myself that I was only twelve years old and I was not the one who took the decision or could change it, so I forgave myself. And most important I felt a wave of gratitude for this old man, who living the biggest pain someone can live burying his child, prioritized our own good and agreed to move near people who wanted and could take good care of us.
During this process I was moved deeply. I remembered them all (most of them have died) with such a sweet sentiment and I felt deep inside me how lucky I have been, how much care life has shown to me through these people.
I loved the idea that I come from a family with such great values. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for all the care and love I received at this critical time in my life. I felt my chest opening as I was breathing deeply, and the cool air was reaching my belly without any effort. It was a purifying breathing.
At last! was the thought that appeared in my mind and I cried of relief.
To the question if after that I have started exercising first thing early in the morning every day, the answer is:
No. Not yet …….
