When Life Throws a Plot Twist and You Have to Rewrite the Story

There’s this moment in life that doesn’t get talked about enough.
It’s when the story you thought you were living quietly falls apart.

Not dramatically.
Not with fireworks.
Just… suddenly, something changes.
And your body, your circumstances, your relationships, or your sense of self don’t cooperate anymore.

In this week’s conversation with Cara Lockwood, there were so many truths that reached far beyond her diagnosis. And I want to sit with those truths today—because they belong to all of us.

One of the biggest themes that stayed with me was this:
When life throws a plot twist, you don’t lose your agency—you just have to reclaim it differently.

So many of us live under the illusion that control means certainty.
That if we do everything right, life will follow the plan.

But what happens when it doesn’t?

What happens when your body doesn’t behave?
When your mind doesn’t cooperate?
When your confidence disappears?
When your role changes and you don’t recognize yourself anymore?

That’s not failure.
That’s interruption.

And interruptions demand something brave of us: choice.

Not the big, cinematic choices.
The quiet ones.

Choosing to listen to yourself instead of silencing your discomfort.
Choosing to say, “This isn’t working for me anymore.”
Choosing to stop performing strength when you’re exhausted.
Choosing to tell the truth, even when it makes other people uncomfortable.

Another truth that came through loud and clear was this:
Fear is not a stop sign—it’s information.

Fear shouts.
It always does.

It tells us we’re not ready.
That we don’t belong.
That we should wait until we’re better, stronger, healed, or approved.

But fear doesn’t mean you’re wrong.
It usually means you’re standing at the edge of something honest.

So many of us confuse fear with failure.
But fear often shows up when you’re finally being asked to advocate for yourself.

And here’s the part I really want you to hear:
You are allowed to change your mind.
You are allowed to choose again.
You are allowed to stop explaining yourself.

You don’t need a dramatic reason to honor your limits.
You don’t need permission to protect your body, your voice, or your energy.
And you don’t need to justify choosing yourself.

Another thread that really struck me was how often we disconnect from our own bodies—not because we want to, but because it feels safer.

Many of us learned early on that listening to ourselves wasn’t rewarded.
That pushing through was praised.
That being “easy” was survival.

So we override our instincts.
We ignore discomfort.
We downplay pain.
We keep going long after something inside us is asking for care.

But your body is not the enemy.
Your intuition is not inconvenient.
And slowing down is not weakness.

Sometimes healing doesn’t look like fixing.
Sometimes it looks like honoring.

And maybe the most universal truth of all from this conversation is this:
You are not behind.

You are not late.
You are not failing because your story doesn’t look like someone else’s highlight reel.

You are simply human—navigating a plot twist you didn’t choose, but are still allowed to write.

So if you’re listening today and you feel tired…
Or uncertain…
Or disconnected from who you used to be…

I want you to know this:
You are still here.
You still have choice.
And your story is not over.

Sometimes the rewrite becomes the most honest chapter of all.