When the Story Gets Loud

A S.T.O.R.Y. Reflection in Real Life

One of the ways I use the S.T.O.R.Y. framework is through a simple daily reflection. Not because life always needs analysis, but because sometimes the stories in our minds get loud. When that happens, it can be helpful to slow down and gently walk through the steps.

This morning, I did just that.

S — Slow Down

What feels loud right now?

Right now, what feels loud is my health.

I have osteoporosis. I am reasonably young to be dealing with significant bone loss, and the reality of that sits heavily with me. I want to continue to live my life fully, without fear, but the diagnosis makes that harder.

Complicating things further, I also have supraventricular tachycardia (SVT)—a fancy way of saying that I experience heart palpitations. I even had a cardiac ablation, which helps about 92% of people go on to live normal lives without further issues.

But I seem to fall in the other 8%.

I still experience palpitations, and sometimes everyday things seem to trigger them. Even things like Vitamin D appear to affect my heart rhythm. The problem is that when I bring this up, many doctors don’t believe me. Often the response is that it must be anxiety.

And that’s where the story begins to grow louder.

T — Tell the Story

What story am I telling myself?

The story I notice is this:

I feel alone in this.

I feel like the medical system doesn’t believe me. Like my experience is being dismissed. When someone suggests that the symptoms are “just anxiety,” it can deepen that feeling of being unseen.

And if I’m honest, that story is overwhelming.

O — Observe

How does this story affect me?

It becomes noise.

Like a constant murmur running quietly in the background of my life. Most days I can ignore it, but when I turn toward it, it can quickly become anxiety.

My mind begins asking questions that spiral:

How am I going to fix this?How do I treat my bones without upsetting my heart?How do I get doctors to really listen to me?

Sometimes those thoughts begin looping, and I find myself feeling a little stuck. A little paralyzed about how to move forward.

R — Reality Check

What do I actually know?

I do know that I have significant bone loss. That is real, and it deserves attention.

I also know that I feel unheard by my doctors. That feeling is real too. I feel it in my body.

But I also have to gently ask myself: Is it possible that my doctors do care, even if we aren’t communicating well? Is it possible that we simply see things differently?

Reality checks are tricky because feelings are real, even when the full story may be more complicated.

Y — Your Response

What is one small step forward?

I can breathe. Slow and steady...

I will keep asking the questions.

I can kindly explain how I feel. I can advocate for what I need without assuming what the doctors are thinking.

And perhaps most importantly, I can stay grounded in myself.

This morning, I found myself imagining an image that a dear friend often refers to - an image that she is working to embody.

A tree with deep roots.

The branches may sway. The leaves may get tossed around by the wind. Life may shake things up from time to time.

But the tree stays rooted.

That is my small step today.

Not solving everything. Not fixing every problem.

Just staying rooted.