The stories we tell

Finding your new personal narrative.

Human beings have told stories for 40,000 years. Whether by written or spoken word, or pictures painted on cave walls, these are the tales of our experiences, our culture, and history. Story telling has been core to the human experience since forever. But what makes a story true and what deems a story worth being told? And more importantly, what about the stories we tell ourselves … about ourselves?

I’ve written stories for many years now. Whether I’m interviewing an artist, a Yemeni activist and journalist, or ten Swedish superwomen, I’ve always endeavored to capture the authenticity and truth of my subject. The narratives that I’ve told myself—about myself—over the last two years, however, have been usually quite harsh and often untrue. I think this is the case for many of us as we reflect on past mistakes or engage in self-degradating emotions. There is no fact checking for our inner critic. But it is these negative self critiques which we most often use to define who we are.

This is especially true for survivors of narcissistic abuse, who after escape or discard from the narcissist, can barely remember what their values or goals were—the threads of their identity having been wiped out by gaslighting, emotional abuse, and cognitive dissonance. The narcissist is a master at identity theft and as a result it’s often the voice of the abuser which resounds in the minds of victims even after the abuser is long gone.

For example: As I sought to recapture my identity after trauma there were two stories.

1. The story of how I returned home to the US, battered and bruised with only the belongings contained in a small suitcase. I was homeless, penniless, and found that I had lost many of my friends … my best friend, in fact. I saw myself as broken, damaged, and unwanted.
2. The story of how I stood up for myself and walked out of a toxic relationship telling my fiancé, “I have had enough”. I returned to a city which I love and was embraced by my wonderful son. I made new friends. I acquired lovely clothing which better reflected my sense of style. My written voice became stronger, and my career is exciting and productive. I saw truth, found wisdom, and I started down a path toward a more empowered life.

Both stories are true. But I chose the second story as a foundation for writing an updated personal narrative for myself and my future. Choosing this narrative also set the stage for greater growth in self care, self love, and self affirmations.

The idea of creating, or rewriting, a personal narrative began when I picked up a book entitled “The Wolf In Your Bed” by Jill Harris. The author describes how we can retell or reform our personal stories into something more meaningful after trauma. This retelling does not dismiss trauma or truth, but it looks to open the hood of a negative narrative and provide an alternative, more knowing, more positive slant.

As I began to play with narrative therapy, I also discovered “Retelling the Stories of Our Lives” by David Denborough. Denborough is the co-founder of the Dulwich Centre Foundation in Australia which works with individuals who have experienced significant adversity.

According to the summary for Denborough’s book, “The book invites readers to take a new look at their own stories and to find significance in events often neglected, to find sparkling actions that are often discounted, and to find solutions to problems and predicaments in unexpected places. Readers are introduced to key ideas of narrative practice like the externalizing problems – ‘the person is not the problem, the problem is the problem’ – and the concept of “re-membering” one’s life.”

For a writer such as myself, this was a very exciting idea to put into practice. I had filled already three journals trying to find my way to recovery. Most of the narrative, while being self reflective, was also very harsh. There was no real path to enhancement, and quite frankly, the writing was very ‘boohoo’. Narrative therapy changed the way I saw my situation and changed the trajectory of my life.

Perhaps the biggest turn in my recovery came when in Denborough’s book was an exercise involving the drawing of a tree. The drawing of this tree is thought to be a way in which individuals can look at their lives from another viewpoint.

The first step involves drawing a tree which has a positive association. The tree needs to include some important elements. It needs to have roots, ground, trunk, branches, leaves, fruits, and nuts. These elements stand to represent certain aspects and goals that we have.

Denborough’s tree

The roots represent where we come from. Here we write words and brief statements about our childhood, our favorite places, our family, culture, neighborhood, or important people at the start of our life.

The ground serves as the place for noting activities that we choose do to during the course of a week. Not “ToDos” but the things we like to do.

The trunk represents the area for writing words and statements about what we value. What we care about, the abilities we possess, and the accomplishments we have made throughout our life.

The branches serve as our horizons, our hopes, dreams and goals. So, on each branch I wrote a dream or a wish, past or present.

Leaves on the tree represent people who are significant to us. This could include family members, loved ones, pets, and heroes. These people could be those in our past, our present and those who have passed away. I represented the people who are no longer a part of my life (such as my fiancé and old friends) as fallen leaves. Denborough described a woman who had issues with her mom and husband—the woman drew those people as being the part of a compost pile.

The fruits on the tree represent gifts that have been passed on to us. Flowers and seeds represented the legacies we wish to leave.

I spent a good number of hours drawing this tree (it was therapeutic) and it was at that time I realized that my Swedish experience (which I had represented as a branch) was only ONE branch on that whole beautiful tree of my life. It was a broken branch offering only a few leaves, but the important point was that it wasn’t my whole tree … it was just one branch.

I found narrative therapy to be an extremely useful tool. Sometimes it was very difficult to confront emotions, but sometimes it was a lot of fun too. Do you have thoughts on this or have you tried narrative therapy? If so, please share your thoughts in the comments below.

Lisa Mikulski is a freelance writer based in Boston, MA. Available for print or online publications. Editorial, features, content development, and creative. She is presently working on her first memoir.