Stories We Tell Ourselves
Today’s post is a little more personal. As 2020 winds down and we look forward to a more hopeful 2021, I wanted to reflect on an aspect of storytelling that I don’t think we give enough attention to:
The stories we tell ourselves about ourselves.
I’ve said it time and time again: “the hardest story to tell is your own.” Usually when I say this, it’s in the context of marketing ourselves as storytellers. We’re often the “plumbers with leaky pipes,” partly because we’re so busy telling our clients’ stories, and partly because it’s, admittedly, quite difficult to see who we are objectively.
Telling our own stories to the outside world is challenging because:
It can be hard to see what makes us unique to others (what may seem unique to an outsider might seem completely mundane to us since we’re around ourselves all the time);
It’s easy to assume that what we do find interesting or unique about ourselves is interesting to others (since we’re the main characters in our lives, everything is interesting, no?).
Two very different sides of the same coin, right? In some ways, nothing is unique; and in others, everything is!
It’s for this reason that I hire external storytellers to help tell my story. Of course, I’m heavily involved in how that story is shaped, but less as a storyteller myself, and more as a subject matter expert. I know myself best.
In fact, this is how I tend to partner with clients. My team and I play the role of the storyteller, while they contribute as much as possible about their company, their industry, their challenges. In this way, we each bring different but equal value to a project and make it a true, symbiotic collaboration.
But something I’ve come to realize is that it’s not just the external story that matters. The internal story is maybe even more important.
Now, when I say “internal,” I don’t mean “for your internal stakeholders” like employees. I mean you. And me. I’m talking about the inner voice that sometimes tells us, “yes, I can do this” or “what makes you think you’re good enough?” It’s the voice that self-sabotages one day, and pushes forward the next.
On Cyber Monday, instead of advertising sales of storytelling products, I offered to be an ear for anyone who needed to talk about anything — about storytelling, about business, about how hard 2020 has been. I’ve had some very meaningful exchanges over the past few days, but one stands out in particular.
A gentleman from Europe reached out with some questions about self-criticism and how to more constructively receive feedback from others. We talked about failure, self-sabotage, and how we are sometimes our own worst enemies. What stood out most to me about our engagement, though, is how despite his fear of feedback from others, that’s precisely what he was asking me for — feedback. And somehow he wasn’t afraid. He was courageously leaning into one of the things that scares him most.
Tying self-worth to the wrong things
There were three main topics we discussed — the first being self-worth. It was clear that he ties a lot of his self-worth to his abilities as a filmmaker, and he shared that his fear of criticism (and failure) holds him back. With permission to share, here’s my side of the conversation (to protect his privacy).
I told him I think it’s dangerous to tie so much self-worth to any one thing in our lives. Our value is an amalgamation of so many beautiful things, and inextricably tying it to the inevitable ups and downs of pursuing challenges is very risky. The fear of failure that often comes with that kind of thinking can prevent us from trying the challenging things that could end up being extremely meaningful and enriching to our lives.
As psychologist Kelly McGonigal says,
"One thing we know for certain is that chasing meaning is better for your health than trying to avoid discomfort. Go after what it is that creates meaning in your life and then trust yourself to handle the stress that follows.”
Recognizing self-sabotage
But then, that part of the conversation led to how sometimes, our inner voices spiral out of control. It’s hard to get a handle on them and recognize when they’re being ridiculous. We often think that our inner voice is trying to protect us from hurt and doing us a service. But oftentimes, it’s just hurting us more.
I shared with my new friend a story of my own self-sabotage, and how my spiraling inner voice had been actually causing more problems than it was protecting me from. Warning: sports analogies ahead! 🎾
When we’re self-sabotaging, it’s really hard to grow. Much like tying our self-worth to specific outcomes, sabotaging thoughts can prevent us from taking on the kinds of meaningful challenges that may have a higher risk of failure (or setbacks), simply because challenges are inherently difficult!
I told him, there's a really great quote out there: "If you're the smartest person in the room, you're in the wrong room.”
Being the best in a small pond may stroke our ego for a while, but eventually it starts to feel stagnant. It’s when we push through roadblocks and pick ourselves up from near failure that we grow into our stronger, more resilient, most confident selves. But to do that, we need to be ok with stumbling along the way. If we perceive every stumble as a reflection of our self-worth, we’ll quickly self-sabotage and prevent ourselves from progressing.
“Fail forward” and other clichés
I have a pretty big beef with quotes like “fail forward” or “fail often.” While I agree with them in principle, I feel like those instructions are woefully incomplete. These quotes are really good at stroking the egos of the “already fearless” but do very little to help those who still get held back by the fear of failure. How do you embrace something you’re actually terrified of?
Becoming immune to failure requires a sort of exposure therapy, like when an arachnophobe gets tossed into a pit of tarantulas by their shrink. After an initial bout of panic, the person slowly becomes calmer and calmer, and eventually becomes desensitized. Their fear dissipates with increased exposure.
Tarantulas aren’t particularly deadly. Their bites just sting a little. Same goes for failure, in most cases.
What I can tell you is that in my personal journey, I started small. Failing at little things that didn’t matter much to my existence, like learning to swing a tennis racquet, while being supported by a loving community… that was a good start. Even if I failed, I still felt loved. Mom was unconditionally supportive. Dad was pretty critical, but only because he believed I could be exceptional. It wasn’t always pretty, and we fought more than we probably should’ve, but I look back at it as a very solid foundation.
Tackling bigger and bigger challenges, experiencing setbacks, learning from mistakes, and recalibrating to persevere with greater strength, hasn’t just bolstered my resolve. It’s made me a tougher person. Over the course of my life, I’ve learned that failures and setbacks aren’t a reflection of my worth as a person. They’re just a reflection of my needing to put more work or more learning into the task at hand.
“I have some learning to do” is not the same as “I’m not good enough.”
All this to say, it didn’t happen overnight. I didn’t develop a sense of self-confidence by accident and it wasn’t a linear journey either. Lots of ups and downs. I had some of my lowest points in my late twenties and early thirties, long after I thought I’d learned everything about my sense of self-worth and confidence. Nope.
There’s always room to grow. And it’s never too late to start. It’s an iterative process that takes some introspection and leaning into discomfort. But the more we do it, the stronger we become.
Hindsight in 2020
And this is a big reason I look back at 2020 as an opportunity. It’s our chance to say to ourselves, “I survived this.” Every time we survive something, it builds yet another precedent that we are, in fact, survivors. That we can emerge from adversity. That even if the result is imperfect, we are better humans as a result.
And so, as we enter the holiday season and usher in the new year, my hope to everyone in this wonderful community is that we can show ourselves a little bit of extra grace. That we can see ourselves for the resilient, beautiful people that we are. And move forward stronger than we were before.
Much love,
Amina