Letting Go of Old Stories

There are moments in our lives when the stories we've carried with us start to feel a little too heavy. Maybe they're outdated. Maybe they've grown a bit thin. Maybe they're no longer true in the way they once were.

I was reflecting on that recently through the lens of an old story—a biblical one about Jacob and Esau. Now, Jacob is obviously the main character here. He gets renamed Israel, which is a pretty big deal. But in a surprising twist, it's Esau who kind of comes out of left field with the real win.

Jacob, let’s be honest, isn't great to his brother. He manipulates, deceives, and takes what isn’t his. And when the two finally meet again after years of estrangement, Jacob is prepared for the worst. He assumes Esau has been stewing on that same betrayal all these years.

But Esau? He’s not there anymore. He’s moved on. Somewhere along the line, Esau got on with his life. He’s now successful, secure, and—most notably—he's at peace. He’s done the work to let go of that old story. And when they meet again, he doesn’t bring the past with him. He shows up open, generous, and ready for something new.

And yet there’s Jacob, still expecting the angry brother he remembers.

Outdated Narratives We Carry

That gap—between Esau’s maturity and Jacob’s assumptions—reminds me how often we continue to relate to people (and even to ourselves) based on outdated narratives.

Sometimes it’s a relationship. Maybe someone hurt you, and rightfully, you protected yourself. But what if they’re not who they used to be? What if they’ve changed—and you haven’t updated the story?

Or maybe it's more personal. A story you've told yourself about who you are: I'm the one who always fails. I'm not enough. I'm too much. I'm unlovable. These stories may have served us once—perhaps they even kept us safe. But over time, they can harden into identities that keep us stuck.

When Stories No Longer Serve

There are also the stories born out of deep pain. When something terrible happens, we often create narratives to help us make sense of it all. And those stories are important—they give us a framework for our experience. But sometimes, long after the danger has passed, we keep clinging to the story.

Because letting go of it feels like letting our guard down.

Except now, that story isn't keeping us safe—it's keeping us small. It's keeping us from growth, from connection, from stepping into the future that's waiting for us.

Choosing a New Path

Like Esau, maybe it’s time for us to step into a new story.

Not by denying the past. Not by pretending everything is fine when it's not. But by acknowledging the hurt, grieving what was lost, and then choosing not to let that moment have the final word.

The truth is, you are more than what happened to you. More than what someone else said or did. More than who you were when you were trying to survive.

So what might it look like to do the hard work of letting go of an old story? And what new story might be waiting to be written?

Maybe it starts with showing up, like Esau, open to the possibility that things—and people—can be different.

Maybe it starts with believing that you can be different, too.