The Story You’re Living
If you are like me, you are busy. Drop-offs, game days, dinner plans, work, family, graduation. Often, I’m falling into bed at night exhausted, reading for five minutes before my eyes close. I get up in the morning and start with coffee, more rides, logistics, gas in the car, groceries, laundry, work, grading, TV, bed. And then all over again. We can get weeks down the road, or months, and realize that we aren’t living each day but surviving. When we sit down to connect with our spouse or a friend, we realize we have nothing to say because we haven't even connected with ourselves.
Based on my research and personal experience, I know that before we can connect with others, we have to connect with ourselves. And the story we tell ourselves, when we take the time to connect, matters.
Brené talks about “the story we tell ourselves” when we need to be resilient, but I’m talking about actual stories—not just the narratives in our heads but the lives we are actively living.
It is all well and good to challenge the stories in your head to make sure you aren’t creating unneeded stress, but what about your actual story? Did you always want to be a mom? Or a teacher? I did. I chose this life on purpose, and now that I’m living it, I want to enjoy it. So when I’m able to craft a story about my life, I can physically feel myself growing.
It works like this: center yourself as the character in the story. What is she doing? Thinking? Feeling? What good things are happening? What is the major stressor right now? How will she overcome it? What are the values and virtues that she hangs onto, that define her in this series?
You have all those answers, and based on how you think about them and tell the story, you can help the next part unfold. Imagine sharing with someone that you were busy this week, but you were so grateful because all the kids are home, and you actually got to make dinner and fill up the table. Or asking for help because you didn’t realize that committing to another project at work would take you away from soccer practice, and you really enjoy being there—even though you wouldn’t admit that to the younger version of yourself.
Would it be so hard to say to someone at work, “Could we maybe set up a time to collaborate so I can get the work done faster because I’m really feeling over extended this week?”
When you identify the feelings and actions in your story, you are better equipped to have it turn out the way you want it to. If you are quiet about your own story, do you even know how you want it to go, or are you just riding the wave of busyness?
This week, I have a meeting that is 45–60 minutes away from my house, and I was dreading it. I hate the commute because I feel like I’m giving up an hour of my life in each direction. I find myself getting irritated with my teammates who live on that side of town, and I start off in a bad place just because of where the meeting is. So I thought for a minute about that and decided to interject a change into my story.
The Waymo cars drive to the meeting location, but they don’t yet come to my house, so what if I got a ride to a spot where I could get in one, and then I could ride in peace to the meeting? Would that change my approach? Well, as I sit here writing in a driverless car, I can tell you that—absolutely, yes—this changed my story for today.
We often think that we are powerless in our own story, and we can be. But reframing, adjusting—even just being aware of what we are experiencing and questioning what we would rather have—is a step in a direction toward more satisfaction.
The next step, of course, is sharing your story, but if you can start with a little personal storytelling, I promise, you’ll feel different, bigger, more expansive.
A Note About My Drive: I accidentally put in the wrong address for my Waymo, and we ended up driving through town versus skirting the outside—and what a gift. I got to just sit back and look at the neighborhood of my youth from a different perspective. I saw restaurants that I’d forgotten to remember; I noticed more and worried less. I’ll be a few minutes late, but I don’t think it would have mattered if I had driven or not, because I would have still left after taking my son to school.
We can deal with it later in another essay, but for today, I’m taking in the beautiful jacaranda trees and Scottsdale architecture, and chalking it up to a trip down memory lane that my story’s setting needed! I guess I love this side of town, too. Who knew?
