“He allowed himself to be swayed by his conviction that human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.”
(From Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garçia Márquez)
The Story of Us
Do you remember any stories from your childhood? My favorite story when I was little was The Little Engine That Could. I asked for it again and again. I loved it so much that my mother used to call me The Little Engine That Could. In the story, a train full of toys and food for kids in need that had broken down. A couple different engines went by that couldn’t or wouldn’t help the train get to her destination. Eventually a little blue engine came by, but she wasn’t sure she was powerful enough to help. Compassion moves her to try, and she powers through with the mantra, “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can…”
As the smallest human in the house, this story helped me believe in myself and in the idea that I could be of some use to someone. I’ve been through a lot in the last 57+ years. There have been many times when I’ve doubted my abilities, my purpose and my worth. And yet, somehow, there is always this cord inside of me that pulls me through things, sometimes against ridiculous odds. I might have a little blue train, (and my mother,) to thank for that.
On the downside, in my young mind, I also internalized a story isn’t healthy for me. Because children can only think in those either-or polarities, I wasn’t able to see choice in the Little Engine’s actions. The story I heard was, “Kids are in need. I must do whatever I can to make sure they get what they need. If I say no, I’m like the arrogant engine that refused to help, or like the old engine that wasn’t good enough to help. I can’t say no. I have to make a way. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.”
It took me a very long time to reconsider the idea that whenever I can give, I must give. I was shaped in a healthy way by the direct story, but also negatively shaped by the skewed narrative I took from it.
How We Get Through
When our negatives are narrative, they can be even more powerful. As we grow up, we tell ourselves all kinds of stories to help make sense out of what’s happening in our lives. We start to protect ourselves emotionally in a more active way when we are forming an ego, at about three years old.
When we are three, we can only think in terms of polarities – this or that, good or bad, yes or no. We don’t yet have the elaborate neural circuitry required for nuance and contingencies. Is it any wonder then that so many of us learn to shame ourselves, (tell ourselves we are “bad,”) if we do or don’t do certain things to avoid negative consequences? It works, so we keep doing it.
Growing Our Intentions Up
Those messages can feel like absolute truths! They aren’t. They are what worked at the time. Wisdom, gentleness and grace give us the ability to gratefully understand what our younger selves were trying to accomplish with those limited stories and develop a more sophisticated approach to the same challenge.
For example, we might decide as adults to avoid taking a risk because one of the stories we’ve told ourselves is that we always fail, and our ideas are dumb. Once we realize this is the story we are reacting to, we can make choices about it. We might come to understand that this is a story we started telling ourselves in kindergarten because when we suggested something wildly creative in class, our Kindergarten teacher looked at us like we were crazy and our classmates laughed. Our five-year-old minds said, “OOPS! Don’t do that again! There’s something wrong with you for saying ideas like that out loud.”
As adults, we find that we are restless, tired of the same old life and ready to try something new. That old voice rises inside and tells us, “You know better. You have crazy ideas. It won’t work, and people will think you’re crazy if you try that!” But restlessness and discontent won’t leave you alone!
It’s time to talk to your younger self, to thank that younger you, and to honor the positive intention of that version of yourself: You wanted to avoid being ridiculed. That’s a good goal! Sophisticating it with all you have learned since kindergarten, you may decide that the teacher reacted out of her own fears and the kids followed suit because teachers set the social temperature for the room. Lots of wildly creative ideas have taken off since you were tiny. Many have been phenomenally successful! You might decide to research how they brought their ideas to life, what obstacles they faced and what you can learn from their journey. You can also completely disconnect from the shame piece – You don’t even consciously believe that there is something “wrong” with innovation, even when it doesn’t work out the way he hoped.
Telling Ourselves a New Story
We are changing the story we tell ourselves. That new story can empower our dreams. Now, instead of carrying the idea that we are defective because we think outside of the box, we can accept that some people are afraid of the unknown and try to shut us down instead of facing their fears. We can carry a story that we can offer something new to the world around us. It will either work, or it will teach us something we wouldn’t have known otherwise. Whichever the case, we can disconnect from the lie that the idea and the effort mean anything negative about our quality and worth as human beings.
Thank you, younger version of us. You got us through something scary. Your story dropped emotional “breadcrumbs” for us so that we could find our way to something much finer now. Enjoy the new story!
Up Next…
The art of the story has been used just about as long as humans have had any kind of language. It’s taken many different forms over the millennia, but continues to be a vibrant source for learning, for exploring, for keeping history and those who have passed alive. Join me next week as we look at both traditional and present-day forms of storytelling, and how they can be food for our souls and wellbeing.