๐๐ ๐๐๐ฏ๐๐ซ ๐๐จ๐จ๐ค๐๐ ๐๐ญ ๐๐ข๐ฐ๐ข๐ฌ ๐๐ก๐ ๐๐๐ฆ๐ ๐๐๐ฒ ๐๐ ๐๐ข๐งโฆ
At 6 months old, my son would give everything that we placed on his plate a try. His sense of adventure had consistently rewarded him with satisfaction, pleasure and joy, so he kept going.
He was especially fond of kiwis. His eyes would widen with delight each time he sees them on his plate. One day, an encounter with a grossly tart kiwi changed everything.
He spat it out forcefully as soon as it landed on the tip of his tongue. He cringed and shivered while squeezing his eyes. When he finally opened his eyes, he looked at the kiwi bits with disgust. That marked the end of his relationship with kiwis.
It has been 5 months since his encounter with the grossly tart kiwi (he just turned 1) and in spite of my efforts to serve kiwis ever so often and convince him that the kiwis we were having are exceptionally sweet, he refused to give them a look, or try. In his mind, there was a story on replay. The story says: ๐๐ช๐ธ๐ช๐ด ๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ฅ๐ช๐ด๐จ๐ถ๐ด๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐จ. ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ๐บ ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ด๐ต ๐ฃ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ท๐ฐ๐ช๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ข๐ต ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ด๐ต ๐ช๐ง ๐ ๐ธ๐ข๐ฏ๐ต ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ซ๐ฐ๐บ ๐ฎ๐บ ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ข๐ญ๐ด (๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ๐ด, ๐ญ๐ช๐ง๐ฆ).
The kiwi-story my son tells himself is a reflection of the stories we tell ourselves. Often, these stories are fueled by self-limiting beliefs that hold us back and keep us stuck. They amplify our fears, steal our joy, rob us of our power, and prevent us from experiencing the full spectrum of life. I have certainly told myself many of such stories growing up.
The good news is this: ๐๐ ๐๐๐ง ๐๐ซ๐๐ ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ฌ๐๐ฅ๐ฏ๐๐ฌ ๐๐ง๐ ๐ญ๐ซ๐๐ง๐ฌ๐๐จ๐ซ๐ฆ ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ฏ๐๐ฌ ๐๐ฒ ๐๐ก๐๐ง๐ ๐ข๐ง๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ฌ๐ญ๐จ๐ซ๐ข๐๐ฌ ๐ฐ๐ ๐ญ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ฌ๐๐ฅ๐ฏ๐๐ฌ.
What stories have you been telling yourself?
