Perspective is EVERYTHING.

I have found myself on both sides of this statement.

When I'm drowning, life has to hit me pretty hard before I ever come around to standing up. I have to try every frustrated breakdown, crying session, and excuse-riddled explanation before I finally look around and realize that I'm actually in the shallows.

Because these experiences tend to go to such extremes, more often than not, I find myself in the spectator's seat, watching as those close to me struggle to tread water.

This specific statement grabbed me because it classifies this experience as "the worst thing", and it truly is. To look on as someone you love is challenged by the story they tell themselves is the worst of all encounters.

Brene Brown is one fantastic lady whom I respect and whose work I reflect upon quite often. She is currently on tour promoting her book Rising Strong, and her excerpt provided in this article shines a light on this perpetual inability to save ourselves:

"Storytelling helps us all impose order on chaos—including emotional chaos. When we're in pain, we create a narrative to help us make sense of it. 

This story doesn't have to be based on any real information. One dismissive glance from a coworker can instantly turn into I knew she didn't like me. 

...when I'm in doubt, the "I'm not enough" explanation is often the first thing I grab. It's like my comfy jeans—may not be flattering, but familiar"

 I'm a pretty fantastic story teller, but I'm never better than when I'm both the narrator and the audience.

I see this in fellow women around me. In order to compartmentalize the dramatic society that we live in, we tell constant mini stories so that life fits into neat little packages that we can stack and sort and feel in control of.

But this is not reality.

Why do I feel more comfortable in the false reality I create than the factual one that exists?

 

As both the narrator and the spectator, I feel a twinge of comfort in the steps Brene recommends. I see them guiding me in both roles, because I never feel as helpless as when I don't know how to support someone who is drowning.

 

Brene Recommends:

1. Engage with your feelings.

2. Get curious about the story behind your feelings.

3. Write it down.

4. Get ready to rumble.

 

Her elaborations in the article do these steps justice, but just seeing steps 2 and 3 as bullet points are eye-opening enough. I tend to find myself rushing into step 1, filling in the middle with a lot less-classy choices, and pretending I'm ready for step 4 when I'm not.

 

"Facing our stories takes courage. But owning our stories is the only way we get to write a brave new ending." 

If I own my perspective, I can change my story. 

 

If I assume others' perspectives, then maybe I can understand why they feel like they're drowning rather than always trying to convince them to "stand up".

 

 

 

Here's to swimming like a champ and storytelling like a laureate,


Kristy