We are storytellers, every one of us. We may not realize it, but we tell ourselves stories all day every day – about what sort of person we are, what others think of us, what sort of person others are, what is true, what is real, what really matters – the list is endless. And as every good children’s book taught us years ago: stories have enormous power.
When I was little, my grandmother would ask if I was telling the truth by asking: Are you telling a story? Stories aren’t necessarily lies, so the nuance matters. But what I like most about this question is that it separates the teller from the tale. And that, I think, is the only way to become aware of how much of what we mistake for reality is a story of our own telling.
Are there any ruminators out there? Anyone who looks back on a situation or conversation and picks it all apart? After a relationship ends, or a job ends, or any of life’s many catastrophes levels you, do feel compelled to mentally replay every detail, searching for all of the signs that you missed? They must be there, right? Because hindsight is 20/20.
That’s a story, though. What you see as signs, now, are only identifiable because you know how it all turned out. Had it turned out differently, you’d label other things as signs. Hindsight isn’t 20/20, it’s storytelling. And the story that you’re telling yourself is that you should have known better.
Should you have, though? Really?
I can’t say. It’s your story and your life. It’s worth asking the question, though. It’s worth it to remind yourself that at the time, you didn’t know how it would end. You’re not required to be a fortune teller, just a learner.
Maybe you shouldn’t have known better. Maybe you just know better, now. Maybe that’s good enough.
Maybe we can take the lessons and skip the shame.