“Tell me the story of your life,” Grampa would say with a smile as he settled Tiny Me snugly next to him on the sofa. The question was a beloved tradition, going back to my earliest memories; and a shared joke, since we both knew that my handful of years didn’t make much of a tale to tell.

Now, almost half a century later, I hear his voice again as I’m wrestling with how to live more like my aspiration: Heart shining brave. That’s not how I feel, a lot of the time. All too often, I fall into telling myself a scary story where I’m in danger… of messing up, not doing enough, not being enough. I am always measuring, and my yardstick is very tall and very cold.

But is that really the story I want to be telling to me, about me? Is it even true?

Seems like everybody in the nonprofit sector these days is talking about “narrative change.” So I thought, why not try a little of that for myself? I took a Sunday morning and a pile of bright pink post-its, and I papered the dining table in jotted moments from my whole life so far. Then I literally stood back and looked for patterns.

I saw that it might — might — be possible to tell a story of courage and change across my small struggles. How much I’m able to believe this version varies day to day, hour to hour. But I’ve always loved a good fairy tale. And maybe if I keep telling myself this one, it’ll come true.

So, to Grampa and anyone else who’s interested: here is Curly Girl, starring in a short doodle of The Story of My Life.