How do you tell the story of your own life?
- Apr 10
- 2 min read
Hello my loves,
I want to begin by asking a simple, trembling question… How do you tell the story of your own life?
Those of you who have been with me for a while know that these past two years have been a storm—chaotic, shifting, reshaping everything I thought was solid. And of course, my writing has carried the imprint of that turbulence.
There were months when the only words I could offer were updates about projects and events. And still, you stayed. Thank you for your patience, your presence, your quiet companionship. And to those who have just arrived—welcome.
Little by little, the dust is settling. I feel myself returning to myself. Creativity is finding its way back into my bones, and that alone feels like a small miracle.
Something I recently remembered—something that has always saved me—is telling my own life as if it were a tale.
Maybe it’s a psychological instinct, or maybe it’s the way my spirit survives. In the most painful, transformative moments, my mind shows me scenes of fantasy, guiding me through my own journey as if I were a heroine crossing enchanted forests.
Since childhood, I’ve recognized myself in characters like the Sailor Scouts, the Magic Knights, and the women who inhabit Studio Ghibli’s worlds—especially Princess Mononoke, Sophie, and Nausicaä.
Reading Women Who Run With the Wolves at 24 cracked something open in me. It gave names to the archetypes that had been whispering inside me all along. I return to that book again and again because it reminds me who I am.
And from that moment on, I began searching inward—seeking the wild woman, the warrior, the wise one, the tender one, the fierce one, the loving one, the caretaker. The one who governs herself, who walks with others and allows herself to be walked with.
On March 8th, I shared a post about Virino and a journey I took ten years ago through Peru, Ecuador, and Colombia.
That trip changed me—mostly because of the four extraordinary women who traveled with me. They taught me one of the most important lessons of my life:
The feeling of being held, cared for, and accompanied by women. A truth we live again and again, yet rarely honor. Perhaps because we were taught to measure our worth through the eyes of men.
This text is already growing long, so I’ll continue this story in my next post.
With love,
Anchi
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