People only know what you tell ‘em

Imamember

How to share her past without pushing new dates away? 

She had recently divorced her husband after learning of his cheating with someone she knew. She didn’t know how to bring this up with new people. Her experience had been that it pushed them away. 

How could she bring up her story in the future without making people think that she, in her own words, is damaged?

 

Are we damaged? 

Even if we are, is this always a bad thing? 

I told a story of buying an expensive watch, only to scratch it in the first couple of weeks. At the time, I felt like the watch was irrevocably damaged. When I took it back to the store, the owner smiled and showed me his watch, which was covered in scratches, saying: 

“These scratches are the things that make my watch my watch. Without them, it could be anyone’s watch.” 

The scratches we get in life (and betrayal in a marriage is a big one), are part of the fabric of our life. Scratches don’t have to mean “damage.” They are just markings you have acquired because you’ve lived. We have to start owning our scratches instead of being ashamed of them. They are what make our life our life.

 

Of course, that doesn’t mean there isn’t processing to do when something causes us immense pain. 

Part of that processing is to look at the story we are telling ourselves about the situation. 

Ava’s story seemed to be that it was somehow embarrassing or shameful: 

Not only was her husband cheating on her, but he did so with someone she knew. 

But the shame wasn’t hers, it was theirs. They had betrayed her. They had demonstrated a breaking of their moral compass (assuming they had one to begin with). 

Maybe her story was that it was somehow her fault: she didn’t do enough in the marriage, or she wasn’t enough as a person. 

This is a common instinct, but it’s still a way of taking on someone else’s responsibility for the affair. We shouldn’t have to be perfect for someone else not to do something awful. 

If her husband wasn’t happy, he could have spoken to her; instead, he had an affair. 

That is not about her; it’s about him. 

These kinds of realizations on Ava’s part—that we all have scratches that we can proudly own, and that the affair was about him, not her—are all part of Ava rewriting the story of her divorce and losing the “damaged” label. 

Doing this internal work will automatically change the way she tells the story out loud next time. 

People take their cues from us. 

If we speak about something with lightness, confidence, peace, or even humor, it will likely produce a very different reaction than if we speak it with heaviness, fear, and shame. 

 

But Ava isn’t there yet, so how should she bring up her past in the meantime? 

The short answer is that she doesn’t have to. 

None of us do. 

People only know what you tell them, and they don’t need to know parts of your life that you aren’t ready to share. Your only job is to see if you enjoy spending time together and have similar intentions.

 

The next time Ava is asked about her last relationship, she can simply state that she spent the last year going through a divorce and is excited to be out there again. If her date asks about why she got divorced (a very personal question to ask someone you just met), she can neutralize and redirect the conversation. This might be with a smile and a nonchalant hand: 

“Oh, that’s a story for another time,” before changing the subject. 

Or if she wanted to give slightly more of an answer, she could say: 

“It didn’t work out because we had very different values.” 

This happens to be true, but it doesn’t involve telling a story you’re not ready to tell, and that no one has a right to at this stage. 

Share according to your comfort level, not according to their questions. 

I sometimes tell personal stories, but I don’t share what I’m not ready to share, which includes things I’m still in the middle of processing. 

People still get to know me. I’m still vulnerable. But I’m vulnerable on my terms. You can take the same approach in your life.

Key Takeaways

 

1. People take their cues from you. How you tell the story will have a major impact on how they hear the story.

2. To tell a better story, you have to begin by rewriting the story about your past that you are telling yourself.

3. Be vulnerable on your terms, not on theirs. People only know what you tell them, so share according to your comfort level, not their questions.

What About You?

• What’s a story from your past that you want to rewrite for yourself? 

• How could telling yourself a different version of this story help you tell it with more lightness and confidence when you share it with others? 

Matthew Hussey