The Stories we tell

My Mom had a story she told her whole life.  No one loved her.  She was alone.  She wasn't beautiful.  She stuck with these tales until her final days.  I don't know if the story changed for her in the end, but evidence to the contrary started flowing in.  People calling in droves crying and wishing her the best, telling her how much they loved her.  So many cards came to her that she didn't even open them all.  I think her story was crumbling and she was having a hard time opening to the truth.  People loved her dearly, she was never really alone, and she was absolutely beautiful.  I wonder what her life would have been like if she could have changed her story.  If she could have known how talented she was at getting people to open up or how she could connect on a deep emotional level.  I wonder if she could have changed her story if she knew how many people would be grieving her death.
I have been thinking a lot about the stories I tell myself.  Many of them have changed, but some remain the same.  They are not all positive stories.  One thing I do know though is that I am loved.  I'm so glad that story has changed for me.  I don't always let it in, but I know.
The stories we tell affect every part of our lives and what we can accomplish and what will come to us.

What stories do you tell?