The Stories We Tell Ourselves

Life is not a game of absolutes. It’s not black or white. It’s a variety of grays. It’s a mixed bag of people and experiences.

I was telling my mom a story about how introverted and quiet I was growing up. I was saying that’s how I always was. She proceeded to tell me that this isn’t the entire truth. I was telling myself ONE story, when there are other chapters to consider.

She told me two stories when I wasn’t the typical introverted kid:

1 — It was the summer going into 5th grade and the first day of little league football tryouts. There was a new kid that had just moved into our neighborhood. We were warming up and running drills at the beginning of practice.

The new kid arrived a little late and was walking to where all of us were lined up. I popped out of line, waived, and said “Hi, Zeke!” He later expressed to me how much he appreciated that. He was the new kid and didn’t know anyone. That small act of not-so-introvertedness made my new friend feel more comfortable.

That was the beginning of a lifetime friendship as well. If I wouldn’t have had the courage to jump out of line and call to him, who knows if we would be as close.

2 — In 2nd grade, the school’s therapist was making rounds from class to class. She would ask each classroom to come see her if there was ever anything we wanted to talk about. In the middle of class, I raised my hand and asked if I could speak with her.

I went to see her later to discuss some fears and nightmares I was having. We won’t delve into those here, but the typical introvert wouldn’t raise their hand in the middle of grade school to say they wanted to talk to a therapist.

Maybe I was introverted and quiet part of the time, but not ALL the time. I spoke up. I had a voice when I knew it was important.

I was telling myself one story. That’s it. This is me, the quiet introverted boy. When that wasn’t the case at all.

We are not one story, unless that’s that the only story we tell.

In reality, we are so much more than that one story we tell ourselves. We are a combination of stories and experiences. A melting pot of childhood experiences, places, culture, parents, friends, and much more.

Whether it’s you were bullied, poor, abused, addicted, depressed, the jock, the nerd, or whatever it may be… That’s not ALL you are. You are much, much more than that.

Let’s not tell ourselves that this is all we are. It’s just not true. It’s literally impossible for that to be all you are. You are beautifully complex, just like the wonderful world we live in.

What stories (and lies) are you telling yourself?

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