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Because something very interesting happens when you stop seeing your life as a mundane to-do list you sleepwalk through from day to day and start treating it like a myth instead. You learn to view it as something more – an ongoing narrative, complete with motifs, archetypes, symbols, and a central character (you).
Why Mythologize Your Life?
If you're anything like me, you probably got used to being told to “be realistic” a very long time ago – to “face facts” and “just tell it like it is.” But if life's taught me anything, it's that “realistic” doesn’t always mean “honest.”
Sometimes, naked facts miss the point entirely. They leave out the emotion, the context, the inner terrain of what you were feeling in the middle of it all, which can be the most important part of certain narratives.
Self-mythologizing gives you a way to tell the truth from a different angle, through symbols. Instead of saying, “I had a hard childhood,” you can say, “I was raised behind glass walls in a kingdom ruled by forgetfulness.” Instead of “I was lost in my twenties,” you might say, “That was the wandering era, when I left the village and walked into the woods with only a lantern and a name I wasn’t sure belonged to me.”
And suddenly… you’re not just surviving certain stories anymore. You’re inhabiting them instead.
What It Can Look Like in Practice
For me, this process has recently materialized into ideas like The Hollow Gospels and The Codex Reversum. They are creative projects that, on the surface, might look like scripture-style writing or dark esoteric worldbuilding. But underneath? They’re ways of encoding personal truths I don’t always want (or need) to share literally.
As I've mentioned in passing, I've been in therapy lately. I've also been exploring more on a spiritual level. Those processes have left me asking a lot of questions about who I am, as well as why I am the way that I am. Mythologizing gives me a way to honor complicated thoughts and feelings without wallowing in them. It helps me shape invisible shifts I'm still figuring out. It's allowed me to extract meaning from memories, fears, and suspicions about the world around me that might otherwise feel intimidating or painful.
David Bowie did something similar with Ziggy Stardust. Leonard Cohen did it with biblical and mystical imagery in his songwriting. Artists, writers, and spiritual seekers of all stripes have done it for centuries. And they weren’t lying about who they were in doing this. They were simply telling the truth mythically.
The Benefits of Viewing Your Life as a Myth
So why do this? What’s the point of turning your heartbreak into prophecy or the reality of your burnout into a pilgrimage? Well, let's unpack a few reasons to at least give it a try.
It helps you reclaim your power
When you rewrite certain stories in mythic terms, you stop being a victim who was only along for the ride. Instead, you become the narrator. That's the point where you get to decide what a difficult emotion, takeaway, or experience really means and how it evolves moving forward.
It creates distance without disconnection
Mythic language lets you speak about something you may not quite understand yet from a safe distance. It’s a way of saying “this is me” without baring every raw, fragile nerve ending. That’s especially helpful if you’re neurodivergent, private, or still in the middle of processing.
It deepens self-understanding
By translating your life into symbolic terms, you start to recognize recurring themes. Maybe you’ve always been trying to leave the tower. Maybe you’ve always been looking for the key. These patterns give you insight and often, unexpected grace.
It offers others a way in
When you share your myth, others don’t just see your facts. They feel your essence and can intuit its significance as far as the larger picture of your life. They get an opportunity to resonate not with your resume, but with your legend. That kind of connection can be rare and quite beautiful.
How to Start Writing a Life Myth of Your Own
If this concept is calling to you but you're not sure where to start, don't worry. You don’t need to write a whole-ass book or engage in Tolkien-level worldbuilding (unless you want to). You can start small and keep it small, if that's what you prefer. You can build one symbol, one fragment, one interesting idea at a time.
Name your eras
Consider taking a page out of Taylor Swift's book and breaking your life into mythic ages. Maybe your early twenties were your Wandering Years. Maybe 2020–2022 was your Descent into the Underworld. Naming these chapters can shift how you relate to them and help you see the arc unfolding.
Name your inner voice
That discerning part of you that’s always known the truth about certain things? Maybe that’s The Archivist. Or The Star-Eyed One. Giving your instincts a persona makes it easier to trust them, as well as easier to hear them clearly.
Create a personal pantheon
When famous or inspiring people I love pass away, I tend to beatify them in my imagination. It's my way of continuing to love them in a personal way once their own stories have concluded. I recently started a project called The Index of the Sainted Dead that I've begun using as a way to share this process with others.
So, who do you consider saints, guides, or muses? (For me, it’s people like David Bowie, Sylvia Plath, and Hunter S. Thompson – not perfect individuals by any means, but mythically significant nonetheless.)
Write in sacred language
Want to use writing to unpack something complex but aren't sure where to start? Try writing a journal entry not as “what happened today,” but as “what the Oracle said” or “what the bones whispered at dawn.” You might surprise yourself with what comes through.
Choose personal symbols
Maybe you’ve always felt drawn to moths, keys, rivers, or wolves. Let that symbol speak for you. Collect it, wear it, or draw it. It doesn’t have to “mean” anything to anyone else, just to you.
The symbology I've especially enjoyed using myself lately includes foxes, butterflies, blindfolds, mirrors, and gas masks. Some of those I've ripped straight out of my own imagination. Others I've borrowed from movies, songs, or books I love – my way of honoring and incorporating stories that came to me from outside of myself.
Myth Can Be a Way to Expand in New Directions
Let me be clear about something. What I'm talking about here isn’t about avoiding reality. It’s about adding more layers (and maybe even a dash of nuance) to the business of living. Depth. Mystery. Meaning. Self-mythologizing doesn’t mean ignoring your responsibilities or pretending your trauma didn’t happen. It means creating ritual and resonance around the parts of your life that once felt hollow, confusing, or hopeless.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s about telling a new kind of truth. Not the truth of spreadsheets or rigid timelines, but the truth of the heart.
Whether you’re crafting a fictional gospel, writing in your journal, or just calling this month your Season of Ripening, you’re allowed to see your life as more than a sequence of errands. So write it that way. Live it that way. See what happens.
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