May holidays. The garden is lush, the grill is fired up, and the air is thick with the scent of new grass. It’s the perfect time for slow, honest conversations—sometimes with others, sometimes with yourself.
As a child, I cherished my copy of Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Mermaid.” The illustrations, the ocean, the lovestruck mermaid, the prince—it all captivated me. But the ending always left me unsettled. Why did she have to die? Why couldn’t she find happiness?
So, in my mind, I rewrote the story every time. My mermaid didn’t dissolve into sea foam. She married the prince, or returned to her sisters, or even told the prince, “You’re a fool—go to your bride, I’ll become an ocean explorer instead.” I didn’t know the word “resource” back then. I was just playing, rescuing the mermaid with my imagination.
My versions were always life-affirming. Disney’s take on the story came much later. Years down the line, working in trauma therapy, I learned about fairy tale therapy—a practice rooted in our childhood ability to imagine. It’s about the healthy core of our psyche, the part that refuses to accept an unfair ending and can see alternatives.
Scripts We Inherit
Many adults, especially those with complex trauma, live out scripts they never wrote. These scripts come from countless sources: “Endure, don’t cry.” “If you want love, sacrifice yourself.” “Be a good girl or boy, don’t get angry.” These are fairy tales too, just not written by Andersen or the Brothers Grimm. Sometimes their roots go back to legends and myths, sometimes to family lore.
The good news? We can, just like in childhood, rewrite not just the ending but the entire script.
Try This Exercise
Think back to your favorite childhood fairy tale—the one that stirred the strongest feelings. It doesn’t have to be the “right” one, just the one that resonated. Admit to yourself: what part of it frustrated you? What did you wish you could change?
Now, invent a new ending. Not the “correct” one, but the one you want. One where your favorite character doesn’t suffer, but lives as you believe is fair. Then ask yourself: is there a similar story playing out in your real life? Where do you play the victim, the patient one, the person denied anger? What would you change?
Why It Works
Rewriting a fairy tale isn’t about escaping reality. It’s about reclaiming a sense of control—remembering you’re the author of your own stories. It’s permission to rebel against old injustices, even those from childhood. It’s a way to find new solutions to old conflicts; sometimes imagination reveals exits the rational mind overlooks.
If you feel stuck in an old, borrowed story, consider working on a new, more fitting script. Share your stories, your fairy tales. You might be surprised by what you discover.
