Can’t Pour from a Full Cup
“When Stories Overflow Your Soul” A Keeper of Stories
You’re not just a historian. You’re the one people turn to when they want their stories heard, their emotions understood, and their memories valued. You’re the go-to person who remembers the little things, the hard things, the beautiful things. You collect stories not just in your mind but in your heart, holding onto every detail like it’s part of your own story.
And let’s be real—it’s a gift and a burden.
You don’t just keep stories; you feel them. You carry the weight of what others share, and sometimes it feels like you’re drowning in emotions that aren’t even yours. You’re so good at being there for others that you might forget to be there for yourself. And when the stories you collect hit too close to home—when someone’s pain mirrors your own—what do you do? Do you let it go, or do you hold onto it because it feels too important to forget?
Here’s the thing: not every story is meant to be yours forever. Some are meant to teach you, some to inspire you, and some to be handed off to someone—or Someone—bigger than you. You can’t carry everything, and honestly, you’re not supposed to.
Think about this: stories are like seeds. If you keep them locked away, they can’t grow. But if you plant them—by sharing, healing, or letting go—they can bloom into something meaningful. You don’t have to hoard the pain or the weight of the past. Your job isn’t to fix every broken narrative; it’s to honor it and let it teach you and others something real.
If the weight feels like too much, remember you don’t have to carry it alone. God is the ultimate Keeper of Stories, the One who can hold all the pain, joy, and everything in between without breaking. Hand Him the heavy stuff. He’s got you.
Your gift of collecting stories isn’t about being perfect or holding it all together. It’s about creating space for connection, for healing, and for understanding. That’s your superpower. But don’t forget—you’re part of the story too, and your peace matters just as much.
Keep doing what you do but protect your own heart in the process. You’re here for a reason, and your ability to see the beauty and pain in the world is making a difference.
The Historian’s Crossroad
Hoarding, Healing and Letting Go
A historian, seen as a hoarder of stories, experiences, and emotions, is much more than a chronicler of events—they are the keepers of human essence, collecting the raw and unfiltered truths of life. This approach goes beyond recording history as a series of dates and facts; it is about preserving the very heartbeat of human existence—our joys, sorrows, triumphs, failures, and everything in between. Such a historian is not just a collector but a protector, preserving these threads to weave a rich and diverse tapestry of human experience that resonates with meaning for future generations.
However, this profound responsibility comes with its own shadows, particularly for those who encounter or carry trauma. By hoarding stories, especially those rooted in pain and suffering, the historian may find themselves living in a constant dialogue with the past—a past that can bleed into their present. Trauma, when revisited repeatedly without avenues for healing, can be like an echo chamber, amplifying the emotional weight of the stories they hold.
For the historian, this dynamic can be dangerous in several ways:
1. Emotional Overload: Continually engaging with painful or unresolved narratives can lead to compassion fatigue or vicarious trauma. The historian becomes a vessel for these emotions, risking their own mental health in the process.
2. Inability to Let Go: Hoarding, by nature, involves a reluctance to release. For those with unresolved trauma, holding onto painful stories can reinforce feelings of helplessness or perpetuate a sense of being trapped in the past.
3. Blurred Boundaries: The historian may find it difficult to distinguish between their own emotional world and the narratives they preserve, leading to identity confusion or emotional entanglement.
4. Re-traumatization: For those with personal trauma, engaging deeply with similar stories can reopen old wounds, making healing more difficult. It’s akin to carrying a weight that continually grows heavier with each new story.
Yet, there is redemption in this role when approached with care and intentionality. To navigate these dangers, historians—particularly those with trauma—must be both intentional and protective of their well-being:
Balancing Preservation and Release: Acknowledge the value of letting go, understanding that not every story must be carried in its raw form. Healing comes in transforming pain into purpose, not simply preserving it.
Cultivating Safe Spaces: Create emotional and spiritual boundaries where stories can be processed without consuming the self. Seeking therapy or spiritual counsel can help mitigate the risks of becoming overwhelmed.
Choosing Healing Over Hoarding: For those with trauma, it is essential to prioritize healing. By first addressing their own pain, they can engage with others' stories from a place of strength rather than fragility.
Viewing Stories as Seeds, Not Shackles: Instead of seeing every story as a weight to bear, envision them as seeds that can inspire growth—personally and collectively. Even painful stories can bloom into lessons, legacies, or catalysts for change.
Ultimately, the historian as a hoarder of stories holds a sacred and paradoxical role. They are both burdened and blessed, tasked with preserving the beauty and complexity of humanity while safeguarding their own spirit. This delicate balance requires self-awareness, healing, and the courage to transform what they carry into tools for empathy, understanding, and hope.
Remember: You are not defined by the weight of what you carry. Allow GOD to strengthen you to release what is too heavy and empower you to hold on to what is life-giving. With GOD’S peace, you balance your role as a keeper of stories/Historian while protecting your heart and spirit. You are resilient, whole and guided by divine wisdom.
