Same Old Story

Coming into awareness of self-defeating beliefs that shape our lives

We sat at my dining room table. My houseguest and a friend of his that I didn’t know—let’s call him “Tim.” While our introduction was still hanging in the air, Tim launched into a story about his impending divorce, the fact that he had been blindsided and wasn’t going to make things easy for his soon-to-be ex. I excused myself from the table and got busy in another room. When I returned, a considerable amount of time had passed but the subject had not changed. Tim was more indignant than when I left and he droned on and on, laying out grievance after grievance. I noticed my houseguest trying to interject new topics. He referenced back-in-the-day parties and recalled a strange happening in their shared hometown. He asked about Tim’s job, his sister and his dog but Tim was single-minded. Committed to his story, Tim managed to steer every new subject back to his story of suffering. I could see through Tim’s vitriol to an emotionally locked box of self-defeating beliefs that were foundational to his story. I was able to see beyond his complaints because I was once trapped in a story of my own.

I recently started rewatching the NBS series This Is Us after letting it fall by the wayside. Through the use of flashbacks, the critically acclaimed drama follows the lives of Jack and Rebecca Pearson and their almost-triplets, Kevin, Kate and Randall, from the time Jack and Rebecca first meet. Jack’s story is centered around the abusive alcoholic father who abandoned him and Rebecca’s by her overcritical and insensitive mom. Kevin’s story is rooted in a perceived infringement on his primacy as the first born and Kate’s in her lifelong struggle with obesity. Randall’s story is also one of abandonment but it is complicated by the fact that he is black and is adopted into the white Pearson family when their third biological triplet dies during the birth process. Throughout the series, we watch each character move from decade to decade, in situation after situation, grapple with the same old story.

Similar to Randall’s story, my story began with separation from the uncertain care of my biological mother. The three years of foster care that followed fed my growing unconscious belief that I was not lovable. In survival response, I developed a compensating optimism and extroverted personality. I became an affable, hardworking overachiever, eager to please and impress. And most telling of all was my pathological attraction to people who were marginally desirous or prepared to be in relationship with me but would choose me for my utility. All this was going on completely beneath the radar of my aconsciousness. While I believed I was making my own free and best choices, my story was actually in charge. And my story’s sole purpose was to confirm itself, to reaffirm my false beliefs about myself.

Back at the table, with Tim’s story still in full swing, I sat quietly for ten minutes or so. When it was clear that Tim was folding me into the conversation, I offered the only advice that can be helpful to someone unknowingly caught in a story:

I know something about the type of suffering you’re going through. It’s really tough and I’m so sorry your heart is broken. If you’re willing to consider some advice from a near stranger, I encourage you not to get lost in your story.

It’s that old saying. “Some things cannot be taught.” And I will add, some things are so personal and completely obscured in the recesses of the mind that awareness can only be agitated, coaxed, and nurtured by story-telling sufferers themselves. Of course, a therapist can play an important role in this healing journey and that was the case for me. But for those who prefer to explore on their own, Letting Go of Your Old Stories by Australian writer Chantalle Grady is a good place to start.

Before he left, Tim thanked me for my advice and we exchanged numbers. But what we have in common is a thin basis for friendship and we likely will never talk again. Certain value remains in our encounter though—the opportunity to share gentle empathy and compassion, the opportunity to be an agent of transformation.

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