the stories you tell yourself

By Lissa Carter, LCMHCS

I think the hardest sell I have as a therapist (other than the never-popular “I can’t make you feel better, but potentially this work will help you feel better…as in, with greater nuance and depth”)

—other than that, the hardest sell for my clients is the practice of self-compassion.

Hard to believe, right? It sounds so innocuous. And yet for many of us, the idea of changing the inner voice from one of discipline and management to one of attunement and kindness feels both impossible and wrongheaded.

How will we ever get anything done if we speak to ourselves with kindness? How will we push through the tasks we hate, the narrow passages in life, bite our tongues instead of blurting out that ugly truth to that complicated person?

And yet: the lower brain is incessantly, beneath the level of consciousness, scanning the environment. Am I safe? Am I safe? Am I safe? If the answer is no—-there could be a bear up ahead, that person was mean to me last week, there’s no water in the bottle—the lower brain may shunt the whole system over into “unsafe” mode. In “unsafe” mode, everything is based on efficiency. Run, fight, feed, get those needs met and get to safety. Which is a wonderful mode to be in when there is a bear around or you’re out of water halfway through a sunny 10-mile hike.

But it does carry a cost: “unsafe” mode bypasses the calorically expensive narrative brain, the one that makes sense of our stories, the one that holds our deepest values, the one that engages in critical thinking and meaning making. So if the lower brain assesses that you are unsafe, the decisions that follow will be based on efficiency, not upon your values.

(Caveat: I’m painting in broad strokes here—brains are very complicated and I am most definitely not a neuroscientist.)

What does all of this have to do with self-compassion? SO GLAD YOU ASKED.

Let’s say the lower brain scans your world and comes back with an “unsafe” reading because the coworker you’re meeting with today is sometimes cruel or unreliable. You may, as you approach your meeting, find your pulse racing, your brain foggy, and your speech inarticulate. Your normal coherence and relational intelligence may feel out of reach.

Which, ironically, makes that meeting MORE unsafe for you.

When your lower brain is scanning the environment, it isn’t just scanning the external world. It’s also taking an internal temperature check. If my thoughts are racing and I am telling myself “That person hates me”, it adds to the danger tally. Equally, if I am breathing deeply and telling myself “you’ve got this”, it will move the needle toward safety.

Which brings us back to self compassion. As Terry Real likes to say “there is nothing harshness can do that loving firmness can’t do better”. If my inner voice is one of warmth and care (“get in there, yes it’s scary but you can do this,”) versus one of self-management (“don’t screw this up, you can’t handle another loss”), that may just tip the balance on my safety assessment. Meaning that if my internal voice is one that adds to my safety, I may have greater access to my intelligence, my social skills, and my values when I need them most.

But it goes farther than that. Because, as a former supervisor of mine used to say, “the strongest nervous system in the room wins”. Meaning that if you are the one who is able to self-attune even in a crisis, you may be the island of safety in the powder keg that keeps it from blowing.

Your self-compassion practice may just be the breadcrumb of safety that another leans into to keep themselves from overreacting, thus making an oasis of safety, which may lead to a community of safety, which, I dearly hope, may lead to a species that, over time, makes more sound and loving decisions.

If you are interested in story, myth, or the power of narrative therapy, you may want to participate in one of the storytelling evenings I am offering this year. The next story will take place on August 1st, 2024. Learn more by clicking the picture below.