Changing the Narrative

This has been the best year of my life thus far. Truly, from start to end, it was phenomenal. The narrative in my life is so much different than I expected at every turn. But it’s not settling for “not the okay I expected,” as I alluded to in 2021. I’m wrong a lot, and it has been brilliant. My internal dialogue has been proven wrong more times than I can count this year, and thank goodness.

 

Starting the year off, my boyfriend and I had agreed we would get engaged in the spring. So when he started planning a golf trip with the boys for April in February…I was a little edgy about how much effort he was putting into that and whether he would bother to put as much effort into proposing. Besides, how much effort am I really worthy of? Little did I know. Nobody has ever had a better proposal. It was elaborate and flawless. It took 3 months, 2 staff members, permission from the Royal Holloway Chapel, 2 student societies, our favourite restaurant, and our friends at the campus bar to pull off. He put in more effort than I have ever thought possible and, it was breathtaking. And my ring? Absolutely spectacular.

This fall, I felt a deep sense of inadequacy about my career. Since graduating in July with my BSc and a respectable GPA, I had been struggling to figure out my next steps. Standing at my graduation ceremony, next to my then-fiancé, surrounded by our family, should have been enough to make me feel accomplished, but self-doubt lingered. He started his master’s degree and moved back to Canada with me, but what was I doing with my life? What followed, however, was the realisation that this chapter of uncertainty was a gift—time to reflect and determine what I truly want to pursue. This was the beginning of a new journey for both of us, and I’m learning to embrace the uncertainty with gratitude. Through that, I have begun a new chapter of my career and am enjoying success in the UofT courses I’m working on. 

I could go on and on about how many amazing things happened this year and how I panicked unnecessarily preceding everything. Perhaps the biggest transformation has been in my mind. In 2020, I wrote about how loud the demons in my head were, and for years, I believed peace was unattainable for me because I often tortured myself. I’ve learned that peace takes work—five years of therapy with a godsend of a therapist, couples counselling that pushes us to grow even in a strong relationship (perfect, in our opinion), and a willingness to challenge the stories I’ve told myself. The noise has quieted, and I’ve never felt so safe in my own head. I have also found people who truly bring me joy and inspire me rather than simply fulfilling my desire to belong. 

My friend, Lauren, can be heard mentioning how likeable and great she is. She’s not obnoxious about it, and she’s not wrong; she’s radiant. That’s the kind of self-talk and narrative I strive to have, and I can only hope to be as strong as she is to get there. 

This year has shown me how often I have to prove myself wrong to find peace. The tales I once told myself—about my worth, my abilities, and the world around me—were just that: stories. Letting go of them has made space for something better. I hope I keep proving myself wrong. I hope my husband continues to be the patient and loving person he is, so I can still ask “Do you still love me?” 500 times a day (only slightly exaggerated). His steady presence gives me the courage to challenge my fears and embrace the unknown.

Very few stories are written in stone. Narratives can shift, evolve, and surprise us if we let them. And I, for one, can’t wait to see what the next chapter holds.