Prisoners all

The previous several posts relate to growing up gifted and what life was like for me. It is the abridged version because there is much more to be said that is not appropriate in this venue. One can see however, how formative an experience it has been.

But this is only one of many story lines about my growing up years. There are more. It is not the only version of what it was to be a young person. Other narratives could be written about growing up in a family that camped and did outdoor activities, or about being in a family without divorce. Entire story lines could be developed about being the third-born in my family, or what has happened religiously to the family as a whole as well as individually. I would guess that previous posts do not belie this strand of my story and that was by design.
The story about being gifted is only one very thin thread of the whole story. Were I to dwell in that story all the time, life would feel as though I were standing at the edge of an open grave: missed opportunities, misunderstandings, confusion, great joy that I don't experience now, etc. But there is much more in life than this one story line, as powerful as it may have been.

It has been said that people can become prisoners of their stories. Nothing makes more sense to me than this, as I have been a prisoner of of several stories for certain periods of time. Have you ever met someone who has a story and is quick to tell you that story, adding detail to detail so you get the full impact? That person is probably trapped in their story. The "party line" becomes the structure for their present and future. Everything is typically either blamed on their story, or tied to their story in some way: "My parents didn't love me enough." "I was abused as a child." "Religion was forced down my throat." "My father was absent." Some people weave their present into their past in such a way that it seems as though the same dynamic is happening now, even though they may be 60 years old.

We often hear our elderly tell stories about their lives. If you listen carefully, you can hear the story in what they say. Perhaps they grew up in the Depression, struggling to survive. Maybe their entire story is one of survival and all of their stories of childhood contain this as a key ingredient. You will probably find that their comments about their present life are full of survival references, too.

One of many things therapists listen for is the story. Some people are prisoners of one story but they don't know it. They hold on to the details and relate them to anyone who will hear because those details are integral to their own identity. If they do not have their story, they do not seem to feel like a self. Their friends know their story and can quote it almost word for word because they've heard it so many times. This story is often told as a way to join with other people--if you know what has happened to me, you will understand me. But after so many references to that formative story, people's eyes can glaze over as they think, here it comes again, and they hear the bitter tone of voice as their friend explains their dilemma yet again.
People like this only remember facts from the past that supports their story. They do not look back and recall other events that supports alternative stories of their life, or that tells stories of exceptions to the party line story. They are all about their story and they hold tenaciously to it because if they do not have their story, they do not have a self. I know people who are frozen in time, prisoners of old stories. I felt this way for many years about my singing. But from my vantage point now, I see that it was just one version of my experience, not the entire summation of who I am or how I feel about anything.

Therapists help people develop alternative stories by rounding out the story by exploring other realities that were present during the time that formative story took place. When the story is very negative and painful, it is important to set the painful events in the context of what was going right at the time, or what positive experiences one had in other arenas of life. For example, as a child I was never afraid to go to bed at night for fear that I would be molested. I never had to worry that my father would strike my mother. Although we didn't have much money, we had enough to eat. We made all sorts of gifts for one another at Christmas, so that to this day, I really treasure handmade gifts. I had a degree of freedom living in the country that few of my friends had in town. I felt loved and cherished as a small child, and have many happy memories of family activities. Even though the singing issue strained my relationship with my parents for years, I worked through it and moved on in my relationship to them. I understand my parents and their good intentions for my life.

Do you have a story? Are you trapped or defined by it? Your story can contribute to your self-knowledge or it can squelch self-development and keep you ruminating on what happened or what should have been. If you read stories of the holocaust survivors, you will find that those who survived well were ones who had alternative stories of what was happening other than simply the fact that they were incarcerated, trapped, and helpless. You will read about friends, group meetings, their observations of what was happening socially or relationally in the camp, or even their observations of nature: sky, forest, grass. Viktor Frankl was such a person, the father of logotherapy--an existential approach to finding meaning in one's lot in life. His theory was developed by observing others in the camps.

There are those who hold their story close to their heart, and those who step back and find many story lines; those whose stories make our blood run cold and those whose stories warm us. There is room for more than the party line about who we are and how we got this way. Our lives are really like a diamond with many facets. The more facets a diamond has, the more it sparkles. So with our life stories.