[in this post I talk about stories relating to my own experience of being disabled and autistic. There are lots of other stories that have an impact on who we are, such as those surrounding gender and sexuality. This topic is huge and far-reaching, and will definitely be something I explore further in future.]
As humans, we all carry stories that we’ve picked up along our life journey. A lot of them are collected in childhood, because that is the time in our lives when we are learning about ourselves, other people and the world around us. We don’t have any of our own experience to learn from, or refer back to, so we pick up the stories that other people and society tell us. They then become the foundation in which we grow from, often becoming so deeply embedded within us that they seem to be intrinsic parts of who we are.
Unfortunately, they aren’t always positive or healthy stories, and it can take many years of exploration and self-reflection as adults to understand and unpick these beliefs and see that they are no longer serving us in any way that supports our wellbeing or growth. Many people continue through their lives completely unaware of these stories that are continually impacting the way they are experiencing their own realities, and this can manifest in many ways, from mental health issues, to very real physical ailments.
I call them stories, because that’s really what they are.
Most of them are totally fictional, though they can feel extremely real due to how deeply they have their claws imbedded within us. I find that there’s a certain freedom in calling them out when we do discover and uncover them, especially when we begin to see who or where they first originated.
The first layer of stories to appear in our awareness are usually the most obvious, and the ones that most people are aware of in some form or another. Those from society. I know that can encompass quite a broad range of people, situations and experiences, but we are all impacted by the same information via news, social media and other platforms.
Most of us are aware of how the media portrays disabled people. We all see the headlines, the scare-mongering, the de-humanising words describing us. We read about potential changes to benefits, and a clear lack of understanding from the government as to the very real lived experience of a lot of us. We are made out to be criminals, fraudsters, scroungers, the lowest of the low. We are told that we are only ‘taking’ and are not of any real worth.
We begin to assume that no-one in power really cares whether we live or die; or worse, we begin to realise that they would probably prefer that we didn’t exist at all. Imagine the impact that this has on each of us at an individual level.
Imagine the impact of realising that we are all on our own, at the mercy of the whims of the government and the people around us who vote them into power. Imagine hearing constantly that we are not of any worth; that we are less than human because we are not ‘fully-functioning’ members of society. We know that everyone is one illness, one accident away from being disabled, and yet the rest of the world seemingly wants to act like we’re the ones that are choosing this fate, and that we actually enjoy being disabled.
There are the more subtle stories hidden within films, TV shows and other media that we consume for entertainment. Thankfully, disabled representation is slowly on the rise, but it can still be poisoned by stereotypes and derogatory storylines. Disabled people are often either villain or victim. Helpless or hideous. We are rarely shown the potential within these individuals and they rarely become the hero/heroine of the story. If they do end up succeeding, it feels like it was just a lucky break; an opportunity handed to them because others feel sorry for them. Imagine the impact that these things have on us. We may feel that we don’t deserve the fairy tale ending because we are ‘broken’ - all we are destined to play is the villain (on an aside, I believe that there is a lot wrong with these kinds of stories as a whole for everyone, but we should all be represented fairly).
The representation of disabled people in film and TV can have a huge impact on the way society views us and the way we view ourselves. The first experience of different kinds of people becomes something that just isn’t true, and sometimes it can be a very long time before the untrue representation is corrected for us! A good example of this is the assumption that all autistic people are amazing at something, like maths or copying detailed information from memory. Autistic savants are such a small percentage of such a huge range of people with different skills, needs and limitations, but so many people have no clue that any other type of autistic person exists!
This one links nicely into my own experience of something a little closer to home. One of the reasons that it was never picked up (and I never realised!) that I was autistic until I was in my 30’s, was because I do not appear to be autistic in the stereotypical ways. The stories I had been told about autistic people did not match my lived experience, and so I didn’t ever even consider that it might be an option. I had grown up thinking that autistic people were either incredible savants, or people with very very high care needs and behavioural issues. Even though I now have an official diagnosis, I sometimes still question myself and my behaviour, and I don’t always allow myself the patience and grace that I deserve. I have to intentionally keep reminding myself that I am not broken, just because my lived experience doesn’t fit with how I always assumed autistic people behaved.
While the stories we receive from society impact us more explicitly as we get older, they also impact those that offer us care in our earliest years. Here we find a deeper layer of story that sits within the foundation of our identity. It becomes a mixing pot of the people around us - their own lived experiences and the way they have been impacted by those external stories from society. As I said earlier, we do not have the emotional intelligence to be able to sift through these stories. We take them as truth, because they are the reality of those that surround us. They form part of who we are and how we see the world and our own experiencing of it.
Throughout my own personal development journey, I’ve spent a lot of time looking at the stories that I’ve collected and embodied along the way. Some of them were quite obvious and revealed themselves easily, but there were others that seemed to hide in the shadows, and were so ingrained into my being that it was hard to separate them enough to identify. This has particularly been the case when it comes to my health, disability and the way I manage my pain.
Back in 2023, I wrote a blog post about pain, my experience of it, and the importance of embracing some surrender. You can see how I was beginning to uncover some really deeply held stories that I had taken on from those around me.
They were kept hidden from me for a long time, and involved stories I’d picked up from my family in my early years.
You see, I grew up with a brother who was a non-verbal autistic with learning disabilities and epilepsy, and a mother with Multiple Sclerosis. I spent sports days, summer fetes and Christmas fayres at my brothers school, which was full of children who had a wide range of disabilities and needs. My mums disability was also openly talked about in our home. Because of this seemingly positive experience of disability, and how much of a part of my early life it was, I wrongly assumed that I had no issues surrounding it. I wonder whether that’s why it’s taken me so long to really uncover all the layers of the lived experience of my own disability. It’s been 6 years since I was formally diagnosed with Axial Spondyloarthritis and, although I went through quite distinctive stages of grief early on, it has taken this long for the hidden stories surrounding being disabled, suffering with pain and having a chronic illness, to appear to me.
My mums own stories had a huge impact on the way that I formed the foundation which carried me through those early years after my own health deteriorated. Some of them were helpful, in the sense that disability was never a dirty word for me. I was also never ashamed of using aids, as I had seen first-hand how helpful they could be. But there were more subtle stories that took me a while to uncover, such as how pain should be experienced and expressed. There has been many more years of excavation in this area since I wrote that blog post in 2023, and I am certain that there will be more layers to uncover as time goes on.
When we carry stories so deeply within us, it can take a long time and a lot of intentional work to rewrite them. We have to convince our brain that a different reality exists. There are ways that can encourage this transformation to happen, but it still takes time, effort and determination to change.
We have to first become aware of some level of misalignment within our experiencing and then spend the time uncovering and separating out what it is that feels wrong. Sometimes it will be that we become depressed or anxious and then work our way backwards to find out why, through therapy or our own self-reflection. Other times we suddenly become aware of someone’s story and make the connection with our own, and realise that it isn’t something we have to continue carrying forward. There is something empowering in naming it as a story, and realising that we are the author of our own lives. We get to decide which stories are taken with us into the next chapter.
In my own life, journaling has been a hugely powerful tool in helping me to uncover and explore these stories in a gentle and supportive way. It has allowed me to figure out which ones I want to let go of and which I want to continue carrying with me as part of my identity. This level of self-reflection isn’t for everyone, and therapy can offer a space to explore this with another person in a safe environment. In fact, I encourage people reading to take this to therapy, if it’s something you want to explore. It can be really helpful to have the support of another person when uncovering some of these deeply-held stories that have formed part of our identity. There were times when I felt unsettled by the exploration, and it was useful to be able to take it to my therapist.
There naturally came a point where I found myself wanting to actively rewrite some of my stories, and even create some brand new shiny ones that felt more aligned to the person I was becoming. NeuroSomatic Flow® Techniques (NSFT) gave me a tool for doing just that. It is a practice of identifying a limiting belief - a story that continues to hold you back - and rewriting it into something more empowering. We then work with movement, incorporating a new way of moving with a new way of being. One thing that I’ve learned over the last few years is how alive our brains really are, and how we can work with them to rewrite stories that are seemingly permanently ingrained into our identity. When you realise the magic there, you can begin to see just how many possibilities there really are!
Exploring the stories that we tell ourselves is a lifelong journey. We continually spiral back to new layers of stories, even ones we feel we’ve already rewritten. The early ones, particularly, can be ingrained within so much of our experiencing that they will appear to us in different ways in different situations. Each moment gives us an invitation to rewrite and take back control of our own story; the story of who we are and of our place in this weird, wild and wonderful world.
Every month, NaiAsa Institute holds a free Medicine of Flow Circle - it’s a great way to experience some of the magic of NeuroSomatic Flow® alongside the nourishing community that has grown around it. We have a special 8/8 Lions Gate Portal Circle coming on the 8th August, 2pm BST. I will also be facilitating the Autumn Equinox circle in September, so keep an eye out for that as well!
What stories are you aware of in your own life?
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