How Stories Stitch Us Back Together

A few years ago, I found myself telling a story I hadn't planned on telling. I was sitting with a small group, nothing formal, just a few folks sharing life, and someone said something that brushed up against a part of my own story I usually keep tucked away. But...in that moment, I told it. Just a piece of it. Not the whole thing. Not the polished version. But enough. And something unexpected happened; they leaned in. Not with advice or solutions, just with presence. And I left that night feeling a little lighter. Like I wasn't carrying it alone anymore.

Some moments in life shake us up, right? Losses, betrayals, things we didn't see coming. While time might move forward, the stories from those moments can stick with us. Sometimes, they settle deep in our bones, shaping how we see ourselves, how we trust others, and even how we walk through the world.

But here's the thing: healing doesn't always come from pushing those stories away. Sometimes, healing begins when we actually face them. When we tell the truth about what happened, we start to see that we made it through. That's where narrative therapy comes in. It's a therapeutic approach that invites people to write or speak about their experiences as a story with a beginning, middle, and end. The science backs it up, showing that folks who do this tend to experience a tangible drop in anxiety, depression, and trauma symptoms. It turns out that giving shape to what happened helps us carry it differently.

This isn't just a clinical idea; it's deeply spiritual, too. In Islam, the Qur'an is filled with stories of people who doubted, trusted, lost, and found their way back again. The story of Yusuf (Joseph) is one of the most powerful. It's layered with family pain, injustice, patience, and, eventually, restoration. These aren't just lessons, they're soul stories that help the reader feel less alone.

In Judaism, storytelling is central to healing and identity. During the Passover Seder, Jewish families retell the Exodus story every year! Not because they forgot but because remembering together helps generations make sense of their pain, resilience, and hope. It keeps the story alive and, in doing so, helps people find their place in it.

In many Indigenous traditions, storytelling is passed down through elders not just to teach history but to heal. Stories are told in circles, often with space for silence, emotion, and response. They're not just retellings, they're relational, meant to reconnect the individual with the community, with the land, and with Spirit.

In addition, healing doesn't just happen when you tell your story. Sometimes, it happens when you hear someone else's. You start listening to their pain or joy, and something in you softens. You realize you're not the only one who's been there. You're not the only one who's carrying something heavy. Their courage makes space for your own. And sometimes, just being present, bearing witness to someone else's story, offers them healing, too.

So here's a gentle invitation for this week and beyond: Think of a hard moment in your life. Then, write it out as a story. Just for you. Give it a beginning, a middle, and an end. Then, take a deep breath and ask: What did I learn? What surprised me? What helped me keep going? (Oh...and maybe, if you feel brave enough, invite someone else to share their story, too.) It doesn't have to be polished. It doesn't need a happy ending. It just needs to be told. Because sometimes, when we finally say it out loud or put it on paper, we take the first step toward healing. And sometimes, when we listen, really listen, we help someone else take that step, too.

That's the gift of all this. This journey we're all on, through curiosity, through story, it's not about getting it all right. It's about getting real. And there's something holy in that.

Ever weaving stories into healing,

Sam