Carol and I warmed our hands on our hot coffee cups as we walked quietly to our usual mall bench. We hadn’t seen each other since her son Mark’s wedding five months ago and wanted to catch up on our news. After we both took cautious first sips, I asked, “So what’s new?”
“Jen’s turning my son against me,” she said looking past me at something.
“What? How?”
Carol didn’t need more prompting. She blurted out everything with short periods of silence in between, as if waiting for me to say something. But before I could open my mouth, she continued.
“Well, he’s not the same. He used to call a lot on his way home from work, but now, I rarely hear from him. I give up and call him myself every few days.”
“It’s in the little things, you know? I wanted to give them my mother’s crochet placemats, but Mark said I should save those for his sister. He said they didn’t fit their style. Her style, I’m sure.
“When I have them over for dinner, they get up and leave by 9 pm! They always have an excuse or another. But I know she must not like us so doesn’t want to stay longer.
“I don’t know what to do. I always had a suspicion she didn’t like me and she’s going to hurt me.”
Carol finally stopped and looked at me, expecting to hear something like, Oh you poor thing, how are you even putting up with this extreme cruelty?
“Do you think she might poison you or hire a hit man to come after you?” I asked, trying not to giggle. I’m thinking she belongs to a cult. The women-who-love-our-sons cult.”
My friend wasn’t amused. She tried to make me understand her point by telling me more stories, but I stopped her this time.
“Carol, of all the things you’ve told me about Mark and his wife, let’s see if we can figure out which are facts and which are just stories your brain made up.”
I love stories but not the ones we conjure up in our heads about our life situations, perceived grievances and injustices.
And guess what! We all fabricate stories. It’s a totally normal human thing to do.
Some people spend their whole lives telling themselves the same stories or slight variations of them repeatedly.
I don’t know when we, the human species, started doing this but I doubt Mrs. Cavewoman paced the cave floor worrying about Mr. Caveman being late from his hunting trip and spun stories in her head of how he must be having an affair with the cavewoman down the path. But then again, maybe she did.
- What makes this storytelling dangerous is we come to believe these tales and take them as facts and reality when they’re just fabrications of our highly evolved brains and imagination.
- The other problem is most of the time these stories we create make us suffer unnecessarily. (This is completely different than pathological liars- that’s another topic)
Dr. Rick Hanson talks about two darts in his book Buddha’s Brain.
“To borrow an expression from the Buddha, inescapable physical or mental discomfort is the ‘first dart’ of existence. As long as you live and love, some of those darts will come your way. First darts are unpleasant to be sure. But then we add our reactions to them. These reactions are ‘second darts’--the ones we throw ourselves. Most of our suffering comes from second darts.”
Carol’s son and daughter-in-law not wanting her crochet placemats might have hurt her as a small first dart, but what hurt more were the stories she made up about it.
- Sometimes there’s no first dart and people can even turn a positive thing into a perceived dart adding their own to it.
The story Carol made in her head about Jen not wanting to spend time with her family was completely made up. After all, she came to dinner and stayed an appropriate amount of time. Yet, Carol added second and third darts to it with thoughts like she doesn’t like me, and she will hurt me.
- Elaborating on the truth is bad enough, but when we give a negative meaning to those elaborations, we pile on the pain.
What meaning did Carol give her story that Jen doesn’t want to stay longer after dinner? That she’s not likeable. There’s something wrong with her. She’s not good enough. Ouch!
Five helpful tips:
1. When having a disturbing thought, or catching yourself in storyland, double check if it’s true. Byron Katie has a 4-step process for this.
- Is it true?
- Is it 100% true?
- When you believe that thought, how do you feel? Who do you become? How do you behave?
- When the thought magically disappears who do you become? How do you feel? How do you treat yourself and others?
Inquire!
Do you know for sure that she doesn’t like you and your family?
That everyone is talking about you?
That he said what he said because he’s jealous and is trying to sabotage you?
That your mother wants to control you?
And so on...
Each one of these thoughts can be inquired into gently.
Usually, they’re not true. But if there’s some truth to them, by pausing and being mindful, it’s easier to process them and act from a place of, integrity, strength and compassion, instead of spinning them more.
2. Practice speaking kindly to your critical thoughts.
Sometimes the thoughts and stories come from false beliefs and are very critical of us:
I will never be successful because I’ve failed miserably every time I’ve tried to do anything worthwhile. I’m just a loser.
In this case, gently guide your mind by whispering kind words to it, understanding where the fears come from. “I hear you, I know you’re worried and afraid, but we’ve got this. You just sit on the sofa and watch me work. All is well.”
3. Name or label your stories - This will help you to not take them seriously and to be aware that you’re in the middle of storytelling.
That’s my “poor little me always failing story,”
That’s my “always fat and ugly story.”
You’re onto yourself and that’s half the battle!
4. Sing your stories to the tune of a well-known song. It can bring you back to reality.
I like Mary had a little lamb. Carol and I sang:
“She turned my son against me, against me, against me
She turned my son against me. I’ll never see him again.”
Humor always helps us accept what’s going on much easier. Carol saw the humor in how her imagination had a field day spinning tales with no substantiation.
5. Change these stories by reframing them.
Turn them around, even mythicize them.
At the end of the day, instead of being the victim in her story, Carol reframed her story by deciding to be the hero.
She wanted to be the cool, wise and supportive mother-in-law who could teach by example. She had always hoped Mark would find a wonderful partner in life and now he had Jen. She wanted to cultivate a relationship where she was loved and trusted not feared and tolerated.
It was good to see my friend relax and let go of unhelpful worries.
Stepping outside ourselves and becoming a wise observer, watching our thoughts, stories and actions from that perspective will always bring peace of mind.
Storytelling makes us human. Even before we had alphabets, paper and pencils, we were telling stories using symbols on stones.
It tells us where we came from, how we evolved.
It shows us who we are and connects us to others.
It’s how we pass on our myths, journeys, enlightenments, and wisdom to the next generations.
It’s how we entertain and educate ourselves.
Let’s just stick to that kind of storytelling. Not the kind we fabricate out of fear and old habits causing ourselves unnecessary anguish.
Let me know what stories you’re working on.