When Lena Dunham mused that she was still defining herself by what she had lost, it struck a chord with me. It’s a familiar tune, isn’t it?
We often script our stories with a focus on absence rather than abundance. This is a slippery slope. Because the truth is, the filter through which we view ourselves colors our self-esteem, our world, and our belief in what we’re capable of.
The soundtrack to our lives shouldn’t be a symphony of self-critique. Always focusing on the notes we missed rather than the music we’ve created. Defining who we are in the negative: the “no longer,” the “never had,” and the “could’ve been.”
Imagine for a moment how it would feel to put on a different record.
What if, instead of a dreary ballad over lost chords, you composed a melody that celebrated the here and now, harmonizing your dreams, passions, and aspirations? Imagine the mental makeover, if the narrative in your head was cheering you on even just half the time.
I’m not suggesting we turn a blind eye to our personal history or magically erase the scars that have shaped us. They are part of our story too. And let’s be real, scars leave their impact, and in that impact they gift us with a greater capacity for compassion.
So allow yourself to feel all the feels.
And when the storm of sadness, loss, and grief has passed, ask yourself what part of that story you want to carry with you. Because our scars shouldn’t have a monopoly on our identity. We have the power to paint our narrative with bold strokes of resilience, strength, and hope.
Why be the protagonist who’s perpetually stuck in the “all is lost” moment?
There is true power when you shift your filter from defining by absence to defining by abundance. It’s the choice to live vibrantly, crafting a story where you’re the conductor, not just the fourth fiddle player in the symphony trying to keep up.
So the next time you catch yourself singing that same old sad song about what you don’t have, or what you may have lost along the way, hit the pause button. Create a little space for self-compassion to waltz in. Maybe things didn’t go according to plan. Maybe your story went a little off script. But what did you learn through the experience? Who did you meet that you otherwise wouldn’t have? What insights have you gained?
The next symphony in your story is waiting to be written. One informed by loss, but not defined by it.
And I guarantee that the new soundtrack will be a lot more fun to dance to.
If you need help shifting the narrative and creating a new tune to dance to, check out The Shift Coaching.
