The Stories We Tell Ourselves
Questioning our ability to be a reliable narrator
A couple weeks ago I wrote about the power of storytelling: how it helps us learn from the past, test out the future, and distill things down to their very core. Today I want to dive into yet another way that storytelling shows up in our lives— the stories we tell ourselves.
A friend of mine shared an antidote on Instagram while I was drafting the other piece on storytelling (Storytelling Part One, if you will) that made me really think about this. She talked about attending a workshop with an author she admired who shared the publishing/time management strategy she used of always staying 10-13 stories ahead in her work. This made sense to my friend, and she decided to adopt a similar practice, but found that she fell continuously short of her goal to write so far ahead. She felt like something must be wrong with her, since she was unable to maintain a schedule that someone else seemed to be able to so easily. My friend was In the midst of this spiral of doubt she heard another interview with the same author, who referenced the fact that she had a team of ghost writers. Meaning she wasn’t doing all that work herself.
In assuming she had the whole story about the other author’s process, my friend wrote a story about herself that she was just not a good with her time, or not as serious about writing, or not as fast, or not as [insert any skill] as the other writer. When In truth the other author was using an entirely different process that involved a whole team of people. My friend realized she was actually comparing apples and oranges or in this case one person’s productivity to multiple people’s productivity.
This anecdote she shared resonated so much with me, because it’s something I do all the time and it’s something I see students, friends, and colleagues do to themselves, as well. I’m bad at math, I’m not a leader, I’m not good at public speaking, I’m not creative, I’m just not as motivated as that other person, I’m not a runner/writer/podcaster/artist, I’m terrible at time management because I can’t figure out how to answer all my emails in 24 hours …
Ok, maybe that last one is super specific to me, but you get the point. We have these narratives in our head that get stuck on repeat for so long that they become part of the story of who we are. And let’s be honest, when it comes to telling ourselves stories about ourselves we can be pretty unreliable narrators.
So how do we change the narrative? Here are a few places to start:
Evaluate the source. If the particular story you are telling yourself is based on comparison to another person (as in the example above)— do you have all the facts? It’s highly likely if all you’re seeing is their life through the lens of social media or professional presentations you might be getting a polished up version or a “cliff notes” version in which some of the details are left out in favor of presenting a big theme or takeaway.
To be clear, I don’t think this polishing up or these tiny omissions are meant to be nefarious in any way. There are time limits to interviews/presentations and attention span limits to articles (or those article length Instagram posts). Some of the minutia inevitably gets edited for clarity. But realize you are always comparing your very full and complete knowledge of yourself to what is likely only a small snippet of someone else’s experience.
Acknowledge your fear. Many of the unkind stories I tell myself about myself are rooted in fear. I’m not a leader = I’m scared that I’m the least senior person in the room by title and I think everyone is wondering why I’m here. I’m not a writer = I’m scared of the questions people will ask about what I write and where and when it will be published, and then they might *gasp* read it and tell me how terrible it is.
I love the way Liz Gilbert talks about fear (I think it’s in Big Magic, but I’ve mostly heard her talk about it on podcasts). She describes how fear is always there. And for good reason- it’s often fear that keeps us safe. We don’t take a chance and cross the street in the short break in traffic because our fear is steps in to say what if you trip in the middle of the road. Similarly, it’s often a gut feeling from fear that warns us of impending danger.
But fear also doesn’t discriminate between things that feel uncomfortable in a good stretching and growing way, and things that are actually harmful. So in addition to keeping us from walking out into traffic, fear can also stop us from making art. Or asking a trusted mentor for help. Or taking on new responsibilities that lead to opportunities and experiences we want to have.
It’s these times when Gilbert explains we need to thank fear for it’s service but tell it we don’t need it right in this moment. This allows us to reframe I’m not a leader into This opportunity is stretching me. I am nervous, AND I belong here. Or I’m not a writer into I am a writer, it’s scary to share my words with strangers who might misinterpret them. I will be scared AND share my work.
I can be scared AND do the thing is a much more empowered story to tell ourselves than the story of I am NOT.
Recognize the outside forces at play. It’s also really important to acknowledge that we don’t create these narratives for ourselves in a vacuum. There are so many voices and narratives around creativity and productivity and what it means to be an artist or business person. You’re not a writer until you’ve published, you have to have a show in a gallery to call yourself an artist, you’re not a musician if no one has paid you for your music, a business isn’t a business until it pays all your bills/makes six figures/ etc.
None of this is true. It’s just some other person’s definition of success that they have decided to peddle to the world as if it’s the actual Miriam Webster definition of the word.
Guess what? An artist is “a person who makes art” and an entrepreneur is someone who “organizes, manages, and assumes the risks of a business or enterprise.” No qualifiers. Just doing the work makes you an artist or an entrepreneur or whatever is is that you have trouble calling yourself because of some external narrative that exists about what this particular thing should look like.
I’m not saying any this is easy. It’s not. It’s super hard to untangle your own truth from these messages we’re served up regularly. But realizing that the dominant narrative does not have to be our internal narrative is important. Pausing to evaluate is this true? Or is it just spoken as if it were true? Is a good place to start.
Of all the stories we write in our lives — it’s the ones we tell our own selves that hold the most power. Let’s write the best ones, we can— okay?
Beautiful Thing of the Week
I’m switching things up a little. Every other week I share round up of multiple things that felt particularly soul-nourishing or made me smile (here’s the one from last week). Moving forward, on the weeks I share longer thoughts here, I’m just going to highlight one thing: sometimes tiny, sometimes not-so-tiny, occasionally ridiculous— but always in gratitude for life’s bright spots.
Half marathon, complete! And in super high temps for Virginia in November. Grateful for the training and experience to navigate this and feel good on the other side. Also, always thankful for my awesome training buddy!
Also- remember that patio pepper that made, exactly one pepper over the summer. It starting making three this week (see note above about temps). Now to figure out how to over-winter this friend inside.
Oh wait, that was two things . . . old habits . . .
What stories do you tell yourself, that you’d like to rewrite? What was something lovely in your world this week?