This blog is a continuation of the previous blog — Some (More) HW on Self and Self Belonging.

As I began to understand how the process of creating self and self belonging works, I struggled with my usual question: Why do I do this — prop-up a self and continue to fuel it? What purpose does it serve?  My contemplations so far had gotten me to see that my sense of self and self belonging help sell a lie about an unchanging self and world, they smooth isolated instances in time into a narrative and help me pick facts to include in that narrative and which to ignore. It is like self is a gifted storyteller…(did you guys ever see the movie Usual Suspects?)

But beyond that, I was stuck. humph. I asked Neecha and Mae Yo for guidance and they suggested I consider what would happen if I didn’t create a self, is it even possible to avoid? I struggled with this for a while and decided to apply one of those old handy dandy contemplation tools I keep in my pocket — I decided to zoom out…if self is a storyteller then instead of asking about self (which I’m totally stuck on),  I can ask questions about telling stories: What kind of stories do I tell in my life? Why do I tell stories or exaggerations or lies?

I see that I generally have 2 types of stories I tell..the ones that are told out loud to others and the quiet ones I tell to myself. Let’s take a closer look at each:

Example Out Loud Story: The Great Tweezers Lie of 1993:

Finally, I will admit the truth, all these decades later — it was I who took my Mom’s tweezers and forgot to put them away. But back then, 14 year old Alana was afraid of getting grounded; when my Mom came-in and accused me of taking the tweezers, I looked her in the eye and I lied, “ What tweezers? I don’t have any idea what you are talking about.”

So there is is the reason for my story: I lied to save myself, to avoid my Mom’s wrath. How many other ‘out loud stories’ have I told and why:

• At a dinner party, with everyone captivity listening to my travel tales,”I got run down by a rhino on safari and lived to tell the tale.”I tell of my adventurousness, my glamorous exotic experiences; I never admit how afraid I felt, how I never want to go on safari again…
• 30 minutes late to work and I exaggerate to my boss, “traffic took 30 minutes to move 10 blocks.” I leave out the part that I left the house late. I want to seem responsible, a victim of circumstance not a person who can’t make it out the door on time.
• Talking to a donor at an event, I learn they went to my university. It was a fine school, but I’m hardly a die-hard alumni. Still I find myself sharing tales and ‘bonding’ over a common experience which, in general life, means quite little to me. But I want to be liked, to find common ground with a stranger, to be successful at my job.

The stories I tell out-loud are always meant to control other people’s perceptions of me. They are meant to get people to like me, or to protect myself from negative judgement or consequences.

Example Story I Tell Myself: That’s Not Cheating

When I was in highschool I had a ‘rule’ — I would not be a cheater. I would not cheat on my partners and I wouldn’t would mess around with someone else’s partner either. But there was once, I liked a guy so much, he just already had a girlfriend. Based on my rule, I wouldn’t cheat, but I flirted, invited him over to study, insinuated..I got him to break-up with his girlfriend so we could go out. But that’s not cheating..I waited till after the break-up to mess around with him. I created an imaginary line, a story, and then I defined myself as someone who stayed on the “right” side of it. I did it because I wanted to protect myself from seeing myself as a cheater. I wanted to believe I was a good person, who deserved friends, and good faithful partners.

How many other ‘inside stories’ have I told and why:

• In my relationship with my mom, I painted myself as the victim and my mom as the ‘wicked witch.’ I ignored the other side, the times I was hurtful to her, the times she was the hero. I did it because I didn’t want to see my own ugliness, my lack of gratitude. The truth that I was being a bad child a lot of the time.
• I hate New Yorkers, I look outward to find ugliness in their actions, to distract myself from my own ugliness, the traits about myself I don’t like.

The stories I tell myself are all designed to bolster my sense of being a good Alana. They obfuscate my negative qualities, they defend my righteousness and justify my potentially bad behavior through selective memory, arbitrary rules and standards, and downright lies. I need to be a good Alana. I value goodness, I think it is what makes me worthy of love, of protection, of good karma and a comfortable life.  I believe that good people deserve good outcomes and that the world will deliver those.  So I tell stories that affirm my goodness, because that goodness is what makes my worldly existence seem predictable, orderly and safe.  

At the end of the day, my self as storyteller reinforces my vision of the world as a predictable place, one I can navigate if I just follow the rules (rules of my own creation). It lets me be in control, to imagine a world worth living in because I ,as a self proclaimed ‘good’ person, will get good stuff and avoid the bad. It makes me believe it is worth being born.