The Stories we Tell

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Growing up, I was often told that my words were important but that intention mattered more. As I moved through life and into the world of therapy, words have become my life. I spend my hours sitting with people and listening to the words that they choose, trying to understand the stories they tell. I believe that these stories reflect and create the world that we live in, for better or worse, whether we recognize it or not. 

Let me take a step back. Language is, at it’s most basic level, functional. It developed from the need to be able to say “there’s good hunting over there” or “don’t eat that plant – it will make you sick.” Language was a function of survival. It has since developed into a beautiful tool of connection. Words allow us to share our thoughts, our feelings, our realities, and to enter the world of another. Without language, I would never be able to see situations through my client’s eyes, to be able to understand the world as they see it. But language is also expressive. It communicates a system of beliefs and biases and relies on a shared understanding of meaning. Without understanding, language is useless. 

For me, this raises a question: how much attention do we pay to the words we use? When I have an experience, there are several levels of interpretation that impact how I understand it and encode it in my brain. The stimulus goes into my eyes or ears, and travels to my brain where it is decoded. Almost instantly, my brain makes judgments of the stimuli and reacts accordingly. This information is then received by my mind and I try to make meaning out of what is happening. Is it good or bad? Is it exciting or scary? Does it remind me of that time in second grade? From these judgments, I place the experience into a box and file it away, able to retrieve and open it whenever I may need to. 

Language becomes attached to an experience intrinsically, with all the nuances associated. These words link together to form sentences; these sentences form narratives. 

In the world of psychology, narrative is defined as the stories we tell, both about ourselves and to ourselves. I tell you the story about what happened at the office today, but I also think about what I said and how I said it, how my coworker interpreted it, and the impact it may have on our relationship. This is where the magic of narrative happens – the words I choose shape my reality. 

If I believe that I reacted well, but that my co-worker was being unreasonable, I may react with piety and indignation and interact with that co-worker in an aloof or detached manner. “I’m so much more reasonable than she is.” If I believe that I reacted badly and made a fool of my self, I may react with shame and embarrassment, and choose to avoid that person in the future. I may even convince myself that I am always socially awkward and may begin to isolate out of fear or sadness. 

The situation does not dictate the ultimate outcome; the stories I create about it does. 

Why is this so important? The words we use have power. The way I talk about myself and my life will impact the way I believe my life to be – when I tell a story over and over, it becomes more and more true for me no matter how close or distant it is from the experience itself. These narratives impact how others see and understand me, and the way that they may interact with me. Deeper, and in my opinion more importantly, the stories I tell myself about who I am become my truth. If, at every turn, I tell myself that I am an awkward failure, I will begin to believe it is the truth and live accordingly. But in my experience, and those shared with me, it rarely stops there. Awkward failure becomes stupid awkward failure, becomes unlovable stupid awkward failure and so on. 

Language has the power to shape the way we see the world, the way we see ourselves and others. It is the difference between “I really screwed up” and “I’m a real screw up.” My intention is important, but the words I use to convey them may matter more. If this is the case, it’s worth exploring – are you happy with your story? Are there any places that need edits or could be reworked? You are the author of you narratives, both internal and external. It is worth choosing the words that define you carefully.

James Matson