It seems fitting to reboot (again) my desire to write and tell stories with a new-to-me concept I just learned from a renowned social worker, vulnerability specialist, and storyteller herself, Brene’ Brown. In her books, she explains a powerful, non-blaming, non-judgmental communication tool called “The story I’m telling myself.” This little phrase unravels miscommunications, un-sticks stuck spots, clears away the mental fog, and illuminates dark corners in conversations.

“The story I am telling myself is…”

-Brene’ Brown

It is used to work with the internal dialogue that runs in our minds, frequently recounting old “thought programs” based on our perceptions of being not good enough or some other negative thinking pattern or habit. When negativity hijacks our clarity, the dialogue tells a story that we project onto the situation and the people in it.

Here is an example that happened at my house this week. I wanted to take our 6-year-old granddaughter to the park to play and let her dog run in a bigger space than our yard allowed. My husband was working on disentangling some extra rope from our zip line to add length to the dog’s leash. As he followed the zip line down to the front yard, I followed behind him, chattering about the upcoming adventure at the park. He started to wave his hands to the side and behind himself as if shooing me away. I thought it odd and slowed my pace, but not my conversation. Silently, still walking away, he gestured more boldly, and I stopped, commented, “well, that’s odd, sorry I bothered you,” turned and walked back, feeling blown off, dismissed. The story I was telling myself was that he was annoyed at my chatter and wanted me to back off and give him space while he tried to navigate the extrication of the extra rope without my distracting interference. Once he finished, he circled back to me, saw the look on my face, and said, “I wasn’t trying to ignore you, but we were by the corner of the house where (our daughter who works nights) was sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake her by talking outside her windows.”

Duh. That is precisely how he is, thinking of others, trying to accommodate our needs, and caring for us.

My story of “being an annoying, interfering, non-stop chattering, unhelpful person who chronically distracts him” had hijacked my better-thinking self, who knows that he doesn’t see me that way, but I often do.

“The story I am telling myself,” what an incredible tool. We can use it inside our heads; we can use it out loud to clear up confusion and clarify what is actually happening. It does not assign or assume blame but instead invites honesty and clarity.

I’ve forever felt the call to write. I get new ideas, build up a head of steam and brew up a batch of ideas, ready to leap into action. And then the old programs begin. The story I tell myself is that no one would be interested in the things I have to say, that it isn’t of value, or that as soon as I spit out some great new bit of wisdom, I will learn something else, something better, rendering the other obsolete and without value—therefore making me without value. It is a demoralizing story of not being good enough, wise enough, interesting enough, etc.

I find this rather insightful, considering that I assist clients in clearing away these kinds of old programs for a living! Implementing the story I am telling myself has allowed new understanding into unhealed areas of my life, my shadow material, and bits of old programs that are still running amok and need some love and clearing work done.

And perhaps, at long last, the story I tell myself will be that I am ready to BE a storyteller myself.

❦