In many ways, human beings are narrative creatures. We make sense of our world by telling stories about it, by picking out patterns and weaving them into the overarching narratives of our lives. Stories help us understand who we are, and how we fit into the world. They help us create meaning, identity, and connection.
Sometimes, though, you may find yourself telling a story that hurts you. You may attach your identity to a narrative that diminishes your self-worth: “I’m always passed over, always second-best.” “When people see what I’m really like, they leave.” “I’m such a disappointment. I never do anything right.” These stories can start from a single bad experience or a series of painful interactions, or they can come to you in messages from your culture. But as you retell them over and over, they start to feel like they reflect an essential truth about who you are and how you relate to the world.
These stories are pernicious because they color your perceptions of how other people interact with you. For instance, if your narrative is “Everyone gets sick of me eventually,” how will you react when your partner says, “I would really like some alone time tonight”? Will you think, “That’s ok, everyone needs alone time now and then, and I’m sure she’ll want to see me soon,” or will you go down a dark tunnel: “She’s finally started to get bored with me and now she’s distancing herself. She’s probably preparing to dump me.”
Telling this story prevents you from hearing what your partner is really saying, which is much more likely to be about them than about you. This then creates unnecessary stress, pain, and conflict. You’re acting out a conflict with yourself through your partner–and your partner may not even know the role that you’ve cast them in. But how do you fight a narrative that feels so instinctively true?
The first step is recognizing what negative stories you tell yourself. When you’re feeling bad, what messages do you give yourself? Once you identify the harmful narratives, it will be possible to notice when one of them starts running through your head.
Being more aware of the stories you tell yourself will give you the opportunity to pause and check your assumption with your partner, before you start to spin out. “Sweetheart, sometimes I worry that (fill in the blank.)” “Sometimes when I’m down, I start to think that (fill in the blank).” By doing this, you’ll give your partner the opportunity to let you know what they’re actually thinking in those moments–and it’s likely to be much, much less scary than you think. It requires a leap of faith to share your scary, vulnerable, revealing fears, but it’s worth it.