"What story are you telling yourself about that?"

Within the last couple of weeks, I've heard the question three or four times: "What story are you telling yourself about that?" It's an excellent question--especially for one like me who is, as Annie Dillard called herself, "a narrative addict."

When things happen (or even seem to happen) that don't align with my beliefs about another person, I can make up a story in my mind that makes (or seems to make) sense.  I don't like to admit this--as this has recently caused me distress.  If I think the Other Person has wronged me, I can draw on past experiences to confirm my initial reading of the current situation: "Oh this is story 422 again!" I might say to myself.

If I tell my story, I want the listener to say, "Oh yes, So-And-So is a jerk!" or I want her to offer some words of indignation on my behalf!

I don't want her to say, "There must be more to it than that!" I don't want her to doubt my knee-jerk first impressions or to ask me, "What story are you telling yourself about that?"

A first draft of any story takes imagination, by Golly, and the teller needs support! Let me wallow and blame.  Let me exercise my taste for melodrama! Be on my side.

Someone commented on my break-up post (two weeks ago, now deleted) that I made it "such a story."  She wondered how I'd made it a story so fast.

It could be that pain makes a person want some plot, first off, that makes sense.  Putting it into words allows a certain distance from what happened (or seemed to happen): this doesn't just hurt me, it's like a whole string of other stories. Writing about it as story puts it outside the screaming psyche for a bit and puts it inside the neater realm of narrative.

Probably I should wait next time to write such a story on my blog!  I should get more information, wait for a pattern to emerge before leaping to conclusions and casting blame.  A real story takes several drafts.

I read recently: "The King died and at the queen died" is not a story.  "The King died and the queen died of grief"--that's a story.

Sometimes all the difference lies in a prepositional phrase or a broader point of view.

When the story I'm telling myself hurts, I appreciate all words of comfort and insight!  But what moves me out of the pit can be as simple as the question, "What story are you telling yourself?" or "Couldn't there possibly be another explanation?"