The Stories We’ve Been Told

Stories are memory aids, instruction manuals and moral compasses.
~ Aleks Krotoski

We rarely give a second thought to the stories of our childhood — whether fairytales, religious myths, favorite books, legend, lore, or those that just seemed to be “in the water” — the stories of our family, of our culture, of the systems and structures within which we lived.

But when we don’t give a second thought (and far more) we are prone to repeat the messages hidden in those very stories, unwittingly, over and over again, no matter how many years pass. The plots, the protagonists, the antagonists, and the morals embedded within remain in our psyche, our way of viewing our world, our very DNA.

An example:

Once a year in my middle school years, the Rodgers and Hammerstein version of Cinderella (1965) would be broadcast on TV. My mom and I looked forward to it for weeks. When the night itself came, I’d be allowed to stay up late, we’d have popcorn, maybe even other snacks I no longer recall. More than the movie, really, I remember the anticipation, the celebration, and its repetition — again and again. (It’s highly possible that we only watched it a couple years in a row, but in my memory, it was an annual affair with much-merited pomp and circumstance.)

The ritual aside, let’s look more closely at the story I revered, the song lyrics I knew by heart and that mink-collared dress (!!!) Leslie Anne Warren wore to the ball. The takeaways were legion:

• You can always count on something magical to make everything better.
• Everything is better when you are sought after, pursued, and ultimately chosen by a prince.
• Yes, you feel forgotten and misunderstood and unseen now, but that will all change when a prince recognizes you for who you truly are.
• Though you might feel as though you’re sitting by the cinders, put upon and all alone, it’s just a matter of time before your fate completely turns around.
• When you are beautiful, everything changes.
• Happily Ever After is a thing.

Underneath each of those, a few more exist:

• Look outside yourself for answers, for solutions, for the life you long for.
• Being chosen by a prince (translate: man) is the penultimate goal and what gives your life meaning and value.
• Just keep hoping and wishing for things to get better (and sing In My Own Little Corner along the way). Buy the makeup, the clothes, play the part: you’ll be noticed and valued and loved.
• When you are beautiful, everything changes (yes, the same, and…wow, does this one embed!)
• There is a “someday” that will solve your every problem, heal your every hurt, and make you whole.

And how do those make themselves manifest in my life?

• I don’t trust my own wisdom.
• I see the institution of marriage (and the man) as the goal, the aspiration, the answer; he determines my value and worth, my lovability, even my beauty.
• When things don’t change, I’m increasingly convinced that’s because I’m not pretty enough, thin enough, beautiful enough, perfect enough.
• Because, after all, if I were beautiful, everything would change!
• I’m often chasing promises of Happily Ever After through relationships, jobs, earning more money, taking courses and programs, shopping, you name it. I can’t settle into and be satisfied with what is and who I am.

This is but one example! Clearly, I could go through the very same process with Snow White, Hansel and Gretel, and Eve (which I have done, many times).

The stories we’ve been told, even if they were many, many years ago, lodge themselves in our understanding of self and the world around us. We don’t have to think directly about Cinderella to have her show up in our deepest beliefs, our most painful insecurities, or our hopes for our future.

Believe me, I have no critique of Cinderella. In fact, years later, I watched the Disney version of the musical (1997) with my girls — over and over again. Brandy replaced Leslie Anne Warren, Whoopie Goldberg played the queen, and Bernadette Peters was the wicked stepmother (another archetype worth exploring…) It’s less about the story itself and more about a closer look at ourselves via the stories.

When we name and acknowledge the stories we’ve been told, we can unravel them enough to proactively weave the story we desire and deserve. Consciously. Intentionally. With agency and sovereignty and will.

How?

Mmmmm. Now we’re getting to the good stuff!

Here’s a way in which I continually walk through this process for myself:

1. I identify the predominant themes of one story. Then I drop deeper and deeper still. I ask myself what meaning can be found between the lines and under the surface; some buried “truth” that is functioning in my day-to-day. With one series of the bullets above, here’s what that might look like:

• You can always count on something magical to make everything better. (Drop deeper…)
• Look outside yourself for answers, for solutions, for the life you long for. (Drop deeper still…)
• I don’t trust my own wisdom. (Ahhhh, there it is.)

2. I look more closely at my own stories — events, scenes, and circumstances both past and present. Once I can see what’s under the surface (and deeply ingrained), I ask myself good questions and extend myself endless grace.

• What might have been different had I trusted my own wisdom in _____ situation?
• What did I know, but didn’t feel like I could act on? What ultimately happened?
• Where, even recently, have I heard my own wisdom but not acted on it? Why?
• Do I, somewhere within, believe that an answer (or fairy godmother) is yet to arrive on the scene? What would that look like if that was the case? How likely is that?
• What wisdom would a fairy godmother give me? What if I recognized that this has always been MY wisdom? What if I trusted myself as much as I’d trust her?
• Where do I know-that-I-know-that-I-know AND still feel hesitant to speak, step forward, rise up?
• What if I chose to tell — and live — a different story this time?

3. I write all of this out — asking myself more and more questions and letting myself respond in unedited, uncensored, and un-spell-checked ways.

4. Then I read it back, looking for truths I might not have consciously noticed before, spotting patterns, and seeing, yet-again, how those “beliefs” have been living and active for a very long time — because of the stories I was told and the accompanying messages they held.

5. The “final” step in this process: I rewrite my own story. Now that I see the underlying beliefs that have not been serving me, I can choose the messages, mantras, and morals that do serve and strengthen and remind me of my own sovereignty.

Despite my continued love for the story of Cinderella, especially the musical, I can see the ways in which it has kept me waiting for a prince and magic and a Happily Ever After. But I can also see the ways in which it speaks to a woman’s (my) desire to be seen and honored and acknowledged. To let that be true matters just as much, if not more, than only seeing the places of potential harm.

At the end of the day, here’s my point:

We are shaped by the stories we’ve been told. Fairytales. Bedtime stories. Bible stories. Disney. Nickelodeon. Netflix. Novels. Around-the-table talk of family. The over-story of your predominant culture (patriarchy, racism, misogyny, capitalism, etc.)

Knowing them, looking at them, and then choosing what serves and what does not, makes all the difference. The stories that make you you are worth your every and ongoing attention and effort. YOU are worth your every and ongoing attention and effort! Always.

The stories we tell [and that have been told to us] literally make the world.
If you want to change the world, you need to change your story.
~ Michael Margolis

Looking closely at the stories we’ve been told is a core component of SOVEREIGNTY — my 9-week program. Along with wisdom, agency, courage, and hope. A new cohort begins together in early September. Registration is open now.

My live teaching. A group of amazing women to journey alongside. Resources. Journaling prompts. So much more. All on behalf of being 100% yourself, 100% of the time. Learn more.

Oh, and in case you didn’t know, I send out Monday Morning Letters (via email) every week. Snippets of my story, some of the stories I love, and every bit of encouragement and support I can muster on behalf of your story. Subscribe.