Rewriting our stories

What does it mean to “re-write” the story? How can we change what has already happened? Well, it is possible when we look back at it with new eyes. When we decide to heal, we are being brave and taking a new look at what has happened with more compassion towards ourselves and others. This new look which is all encompassing promises to bring more peace, as it makes space for a much larger story. That reconciliation happens in our hearts and it is meant for us, for our freedom.

I am turning 50 and my gift to myself, was to go with my youngest daughter and my husband to Europe and see the people and places that had shaped my life in my late teens/early twenties. We visited my German dressage trainer from when I was in high school and lived in Singapore. She had been a mentor to me and had helped me find a job near the Olympic Center in Warendorf when I was 19. I had always asked myself what my life would have been like if I had stayed there.

After 30 years, she looked the same in many ways, always so elegant. Watching Ulrike walk towards us in this beautiful small town I used to live in, time stood still. The buildings seemed the same, although the stores looked different. As we walked towards each other, unmistakably recognizing our essence, just like the buildings which had stood there for hundreds of years, the “details” had changed after 30…. We were not the same people, just like Warendorf although in essence the same, also seemed to have changed. I was reminded of her confidence and kindness, conversing with everyone she saw, who still 30 years later, always seemed happy to see her. It reminded me of why I had looked up to her when I was young and the qualities that still now I wish to emulate.

Driving up the road to the farm house where I lived, the four of us in Ulrike’s car, I could not recognize a thing. I felt a bit disappointed. At first I was not exactly sure that we were in the correct place. We got out of the car and started walking towards a riding ring. There we met the rider who had been leasing the place from the farmers for the past few years. This property has been in their family for hundreds of years. The owners had cows and had leased the horse barn and ring to different dressage professionals throughout the years. My boss had been long gone, not sure this man even knew about him, but he was friendly and invited us to walk around. The indoor ring seemed different but I thought just as memories usually go, things seem much smaller than the way we tend to remember them.

With a little sadness for the passage of time, and accepting his invitation to look around, we left him working his horses and walked a little further. And then I saw it. Just as I remembered it. Nothing had changed. The barn right next to another indoor ring. This barn I would walk to in the dark every morning at 6:00am to feed the horses and clean their stalls. I had no flashlight, just the light from the moon to guide my way. I hurried in to see the ring. It was empty and I suddenly saw myself in there riding. I still remembered two of the horses I used to work. I could remember where one would spook, always in the same place. I remembered it was so cold that I would ride with two pair of gloves and still not feel my hands for the first twenty minutes of my ride.

Yes, it was all there, just as I had left it 30 years ago. The barn, although next door, was not attached to the ring, so we had to walk the horses through the snow. I saw the place where I would tie each of them to groom and tack up. Suddenly I saw myself standing there 30 years ago with such sadness for I did not agree with my boss’ training methods. I saw myself crying one day when he brought one of the horses back to me. And suddenly my story had a different meaning. I had not quit, I had been true to myself and followed my heart.

I felt I was possessed by something, I somehow knew where everything was. My husband looked surprised when I just began to open doors, suddenly all coming back to me. I hurried around the corner, not quite knowing myself why I was rushing. There was another door which led to a room with a wooden ladder on the wall and a door on the ceiling and where I knew was the way to enter the hay loft. I had spent so many hours there throwing straw down each day. Every time I walked I felt a creaking that really scared me, some places it was louder than others. After a few weeks I had devised a path which felt the most safe to walk on as I walked each day carrying bales of straw to throw them down.

I wish I had gone up the ladder and opened the small little door. Yet, I also know that I was not meant to. I was not meant to go through that small door on the ceiling again. I left that memory intact in my heart. That memory which with every step I took on this trip was gaining a new perspective. I decided to leave the memory of the hay loft, where I had spent so much time, singing, praying, thinking, intact in my heart. I did not want to open that door and loose the memory which had been imprinted in the heart of that 19 year old. That time was so challenging for me. That farm was so challenging for me. I remember being aware each day of a small miracle that proved to me that I was not completely alone. Some days my only conversation was with the horses I took care of and rode. So I chose to leave that memory untouched with that 19 year old, as a sacred part of her life.

I could not hold my tears back and asked Ulrike if she thought the farmers would let us go in the big old barn house. Nobody can say no to her charm, so we invited ourselves inside, as I felt safe with her. The cow barn which was where my bathroom was, seemed smaller. The weather was warmer now so it was mostly empty. I knew exactly where to go, I opened the door which led us to the big working kitchen which had been there for hundreds of years. It was at that moment that the owner came out, she was now in her 30/40s and the daughter of the woman who had been my ‘landlord”. Ulrike spoke to her and I spotted the door which led to my room. I surprised myself when without asking for permission, I opened it. Seeing that I was being rude, I closed it back again but the owner invited me to go in.

I walked up the four steps and not wanting to be intrusive I quickly looked in. Yet I felt something telling me I had come far to be there and I should ask for what I needed. I wondered if the sink was still in the bedroom and she invited me to walk in my old room. Thirty years ago I had been too afraid to tell her mother that my heater had stopped working. It was about -20 Celsius outside, yet that 19 year old felt she should not burden them with her problem. I remember looking for all the clothing I owned and putting it on to go to bed. The past 30 years I had been on a journey to finding my voice. For the past five, with the help of Family Constellations, on a journey to rewriting my story which I had been telling myself.

I now saw a strong willed, courageous, hard working young woman who stood by what she felt was right, who made mistakes but was “saved” by some sort of compass which I received from my parents. I choose to stay with with that essence that is never changing. Just as that old barn which is still standing just as it was in the 1500s and just as I had left it 30 years ago when I decided that it was not my path. I choose to see that 19 year old as someone who did things even though she was afraid, who did not settle for what did not feel right, who defied the norms, and who travelled across the globe to find the life that felt right. Today I choose to be thankful to her to have traveled the road, her own way, not the easiest way, but the only way I knew how. To her courage and her unapologetic search for her dreams. Thank you.