You create your story as a way to make sense of the world you experience—everybody does. Three people exposed to the same event usually create different stories.
I once had a vivid reminder of this in my own life. I grew up in a family that was mostly loving and supportive but imperfect as all families are. From my current perspective, I can tell myself the story that my father was the somewhat indulged youngest of seven children. Sometimes, when he did not get his own way he yelled almost as if he was a four-year-old having a temper tantrum.
After my father died, my sister, my brother and I were reminiscing about growing up with his occasionally yelling at us. When he yelled, the story I told myself from the time I was a small child until I was in my 40s was that something was wrong with me that I needed to correct. The story my sister told herself was that her father was being silly and she could ignore him until he calmed down again. The story my brother told himself was that his father was angry and should be avoided. It was the same father.
Since I couldn’t cope with his yelling, I apparently froze a lot of energy about my experiences of it in order to protect myself. I was amazed when I learned that my siblings had so little reaction to the same events.
Since your stories are rather arbitrary, in this kind of work they are important only to point you to where your energy is frozen so you can create an appropriate target to work with. Then you no longer need the stories and you certainly do not need to go deeply into the most painful parts of the stimulus for those stories.
Note: If your stories are about events that newspapers would now call child abuse, or other trauma, it would be better to do this work with a trained professional.
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