Nadine J Walters – My Life

Question to myself: What Is in a Story? Why Stories? What Do We Learn from Them?

My answer: Everyone has a story. Some may seem more interesting than others—some enviable, some frightening—but to be human is to carry a story.

I’m not an expert in human consciousness or storytelling, but I believe stories are what move us forward, pull us back, and sometimes turn us around entirely. Writing this blog has become a part of my own story. Each post is a small tale of what I’m thinking, doing—or not doing—what I’m hoping for, and what I’m learning.

Oddly enough, this is one of the few times in my life that I’ve consistently sat down just to put my thoughts into words. I’ve learned a great deal about myself through this process—sometimes random, sometimes intentional. I don’t expect many people to read these posts, but to those who do: thank you. Truly.

The idea for this post came from a lighthearted conversation with my hairdresser about Country Western music. A song came on the radio—one her husband often sings to her—and it made us laugh. That led to a fun exchange about the CW artists we enjoy. I don’t listen to much country music, but when I do, I really listen. It’s perfect for long drives or getting things done. I love the funny, uplifting songs as well as the heartbreaking ones about lost love, lost selves—and yes, even lost dogs. They’re simple, but real. Authentic stories about real people.

I admitted to her that my recent exposure to country music comes mostly from watching Yellowstone, another kind of storytelling altogether.

So what have I learned from writing these little stories of mine? They reflect my daily life—the things I enjoy, the things I do (and sometimes avoid). They reveal my small struggles, my perspectives, and my process. Through writing, I’ve learned more about myself than I expected.

I tend to share perceptions more than personal situations. I hold back. But even so, I’ve discovered truths: that it’s okay to say no, that openness is a strength, and that creating space—for thought, for rest, for change—is powerful.

As I continue, I hope my story becomes less opaque. I want to let in more detail, to paint a clearer picture of who I am and where I’ve been.

Each blog post is a page in that ongoing story. Even at 71, I have dreams. I’m aware that time is limited, but each day still holds the potential for meaning—for connection. Maybe something I write will resonate with someone else. Maybe it already has.

And that, to me, is reason enough to keep writing.