June Renew: Day 8
Weight: 234.0
I was asked to tell a story today in front of my whole team. It’s one of my favorite stories to tell about myself: the time I had to bark at a guy who was harassing me on the street. Yes, bark. He wouldn’t leave me alone. He propositioned me to go back to his hotel room. Offered me $300. He put his arm around me. He just would not shut the fuck up. So I took things into my own hands when I stopped, turned around, and began barking like a mad woman. Snarling, growling, anything to get this guy away from me. It worked. He looked at me like I was a crazy person and walked away. And then I did the same. It’s very unfortunate it came to that, but thankfully my mom told me long ago about her tactics to ward off psycho guys when she lived in this city. I relayed that story to my co-workers, even recreating the barking after I was asked to. I did great. I felt great. I had the floor, I had everyone’s attention, and it was the best performance a girl could give. All from the heart of my very own story.
Everyone has a story to tell. Some have more than one. But there’s an internal narrative we all tell ourselves that makes up what takes us through life. And it’s becoming abundantly clear to me that many who wield the pen don’t realize just how powerful it can be.
I didn’t ask for that guy to street harass me. But obviously something I ‘wrote’ led it to happen to me. That’s what I believe, anyway. I guess the difference is that I won’t see myself as a victim of my own story. It’s just something that happened to me that I can tuck away and add to the anthology that is my life. It’ been a tale made up of a lot of character development, broken hearts, lessons learned, loves to have loved. It’s a positive thing knowing I’m not only the main event, I’m the director, producer, and screenwriter all in one. I have creative control. I’m the one calling the shots. And no matter what I encounter, I’ll find a way to craft it so I always come out on top.
What I haven’t figured out yet is how much of this was already written down for me before I got here. My parents had their own story. Their parents had one before them. And their parents and their parents and every other set of parents in the world. Everyone. And from what I’ve experienced so far, I’ve got a tale for the ages. God is the greatest author of them all. And I can only hope that what He imparts to everyone is a narrative where they choose the happy ending. No one likes a sob story. Not for long, anyway. Let’s put the catastrophes behind us and begin a new chapter. Even if one starts off with a crazy lady barking on the street. At least it will be ours. Predestined or not.