How do I figure out what my life story actually means to me?

Most of us inherit narratives before we choose them. Family stories, cultural scripts, wounds that get passed down—they become our autobiography before we even notice. Rabia's life teaches us that your story's meaning isn't fixed by others' expectations. It emerges through devotion to what you actually love. Start by noticing what you keep returning to. What relationships matter most? What have you sacrificed for? Where do you feel most yourself? These aren't small questions—they're the skeleton of meaning. Then ask: whose version of my story am I still defending? Whose approval am I still seeking through the way I tell it? That gap—between the story you tell and the story you're living—that's where real autobiography begins. Write down three moments you're proud of and three you're ashamed of. Don't edit them. Then look for what they reveal about what you actually value, not what you think you should value. Your autobiography isn't a resume. It's evidence of what you love.