We rarely throw out that particular combination of words unless it’s about something negative. Was the story of my life having to do everything alone? At times, it’s felt that way. But is that the story I choose to define me? Why can’t the story of my life be something wonderful and happy?It seems like a small thing until we consider the impact our thoughts can have on our lives. The stories we tell ourselves matter. We don’t just tell them once and go on living our lives. We have stories we repeat to ourselves. They explain how we view the world around us and how we view ourselves. They perpetuate reactions and give our lives meaning. They define the kinds of relationships we have and the quality of our lives. Oftentimes, the stories we tell ourselves prolong trauma and pain.But we get to choose our stories.