Part of the progress I have made over the years is to stop and evaluate if something is real or a story I am telling myself.
I stumbled upon this quote today and it really struck a chord with me. But first I had to look up who Washington Irving was. Turns out he was a 19th century American author, essayist and historian. I don’t think I had ever heard of him before now – although as I discovered I did know two of his best-known stories The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Winkle.
Back to Irving’s quote; and the question that it triggered in my mind is how much should we believe the stories we tell ourselves? For don’t we all tell ourselves stories which define who we are? We are the daughter of X, the sister of Y, the mother of Z and so forth. What do you do, people ask us. I work…
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