Your life probably feels like a story you didn't write. Maybe you're cast as the person who "always struggles" or "can't handle stress" or "never gets it right." These narratives run so deep that they feel like facts about who you are.

But here's what's actually true: you're not broken, and your story isn't finished.

Narrative therapy isn't about fixing what's wrong with you—because there's nothing wrong with you for having hurt feelings about difficult experiences. Instead, it's about recognizing that you've always been the author of your story, even when it doesn't feel that way.

What narrative therapy actually feels like

Walking into narrative therapy feels different because you're not treated like a collection of symptoms waiting to be managed. Your therapist isn't there to diagnose your problems or hand you a treatment plan. They're genuinely curious about your full story—not just the painful parts that brought you in.

Sarah describes her first session: "I expected to spend an hour talking about my anxiety disorder. Instead, my therapist asked when anxiety wasn't calling the shots in my life. Nobody had ever asked me that before. It was the first time I realized there were whole chunks of my life where I was actually handling things really well."

Your therapist becomes a collaborator in uncovering what you already know but might have forgotten. They ask questions that help you remember your own capabilities and strengths. The conversations feel respectful because they are—your emotional reality is taken seriously here.

There's no rush to positive thinking or reframing trauma into life lessons. Sometimes life genuinely sucks, your feelings about it make complete sense, and narrative therapy starts by honoring that truth.

Real people, real story changes

From "disaster parent" to "parent who cares deeply"

Mei walked into therapy convinced she was failing her kids. Her story was dominated by moments when she lost her temper or couldn't manage their behavior. "I kept thinking I was just a bad mother," she says.

Through narrative therapy, Mei began noticing all the creative ways she supported her children despite being exhausted and under-resourced. She started seeing herself as someone who cared so deeply that she sometimes felt overwhelmed—not someone who was fundamentally flawed.

"I realized that my worry about being a good parent was actually evidence that I was a good parent," Mei explains. "The story changed from 'I'm failing' to 'I'm human, and I'm trying really hard.'"

From "anxious person" to "person experiencing anxiety"

James had spent years thinking anxiety was just who he was. "I introduced myself to new people by saying 'I'm anxious' like it was my name," he laughs. "It became my entire identity."

In narrative therapy, James learned to separate himself from the anxiety. This wasn't about positive thinking or pretending anxiety didn't affect him. It was about recognizing that he was a whole person who sometimes experienced anxiety—not an anxious person who occasionally felt okay.

"That shift in language completely changed how I saw myself," James says. "I went from thinking I was broken to seeing myself as someone dealing with something difficult. Suddenly there was room to be other things too."

The power of separating yourself from your problems

One of the most powerful things about narrative therapy is learning to externalize problems—to see them as separate from who you are as a person.

Notice the difference between these statements:

• "I am depressed" (you ARE the problem)
• "Depression has been affecting my life" (you are you, depression is something else)

When problems feel fused with your identity, change feels impossible. How do you change who you fundamentally are? But when problems are external—something you're dealing with rather than something you ARE—there's suddenly space to move.

This separation creates breathing room to:

• Examine how the problem entered your life
• Notice times when you've stood up to the problem
• Discover strengths you've shown while facing difficulties
• Imagine a different relationship with the problem

Simple ways to start thinking differently about your challenges

Want to begin seeing your struggles through a narrative lens? Here are some practices that can help:

Change your language

Notice when you use "I am" statements about problems:

• "I am anxious"
• "I am a mess"
• "I am bad at relationships"

Try shifting to language that creates separation:

• "Anxiety has been showing up in my life"
• "I'm going through a really difficult time"
• "I'm struggling with relationships right now"

Look for exceptions

If you believe a problem is constant ("I never handle stress well"), challenge that story:

• When was the last time you handled something difficult better than expected?
• What was different about that situation?
• What strengths did you show in that moment?

Name the problem

Give the problem a name that separates it from your identity. Some people call their anxiety "the worry spiral" or their depression "the heavy feeling." This isn't about making light of serious experiences—it's about creating space between you and the problem.

Ask different questions

Instead of "What's wrong with me?" try:

• "How did this problem enter my life?"
• "What helps me stand up to this problem?"
• "Who am I when the problem isn't in charge?"

You've always been the author

Narrative therapy recognizes something important: you've always had the power to interpret your experiences in different ways. Problems don't have to define you. Hurt feelings don't have to become your identity. Difficult chapters don't have to determine the entire story.

You're not broken, and you don't need to be fixed. You're a whole person dealing with difficult things, and that's a completely different starting point for change.

At Hurt Feelings, we create space for you to explore and reshape your personal story without apologizing for the chapters that brought you here. Through thoughtful questions and genuine curiosity, we help you remember what you already know about your own capabilities and worth.

Your story isn't finished. And you've always been holding the pen.

Ready to stop apologizing for having feelings and start honoring your full story? Your emotional reality is valid, and there's no need to minimize your experience or dress it up in prettier language. Contact us to learn more about how narrative therapy might help you author new chapters that honor your complete humanity.

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