Compassionately Undermining Sticky Self-Stories
One of the stickiest and trickiest psychological phenomena that I encounter in my clinical practice, as well as in the consultations of the clinicians I serve, are the persistent unworkable self-stories that can rule our lives. From the perspective of acceptance and commitment therapy (ACT), I’m referring to “unworkable” as any behavior that interferes with living a meaningful and fulfilling life, however that might be defined for a given individual.
Fusion with Self-Stories
Such self-stories coordinate “I” with various labels, including: “bad”, “broken”, “failure”, “helpless”, “worthless”, “unlovable”, “victim”, “weak”, a diagnosis, or what “can’t” be done (e.g. trust anyone, motivate myself, move forward, etc.). While the story itself is not necessarily problematic, and in fact, can sometimes be meaningful or useful, such as in acknowledging one’s victimhood to abuse or obtaining support/services for a diagnosis, it’s fusion with the story that narrows possibilities and keeps us stuck in unworkable patterns of behavior. In other words, when we fully buy into or hold tightly to a story, it naturally exerts a lot of (stimulus) control over our day-to-day choices. Fusion with a self-story is like seeing ourselves and the world through a pair of colored lenses that are rarely taken off. Everything we do and experience gets filtered through these lenses. If someone hasn’t responded to my message, it must be because I’m “bad”; if I wasn’t productive with my time, it’s because I’m “lazy”; if someone treats me poorly, it becomes one more way that I’m a “victim.” Such explanations for our experiences strengthen the story, which creates a self-reinforcing loop that’s hard to disrupt.
Coherence
This self-reinforcing loop builds coherence. Coherence, simply put, can be viewed as making sense of our experiences in a way that things fit, or cohere, together, like a jigsaw puzzle. Consider how satisfying it is to answer a trivia question correctly, accurately predict the outcome of a sports game, or when you get to say, “I knew it!” Our mind yearns for coherence, and when we have a tidy self-story that can encapsulate a lot of lived experiences, where the puzzle pieces all interlock into a cohesive and clear picture, it provides reinforcement in the form of knowing.
Beyond Coherence (Other Payoffs)
Self-stories can have other, sometimes hidden, reinforcing functions. Whether it’s through covertly clinging to or overtly telling a story, there’s some form of payoff, as otherwise, the stories wouldn’t persist. For example, if I identify as my mental health diagnosis, I might get out of taking responsibility for my actions, or lack thereof; if I’m a “complete failure,” and always will be, then I don’t need to bother trying to better myself or my life situation because I’ll fail anyway; if I’m “unlovable,” then I can avoid the risk and pain of rejection that comes with bids for connection. In other words, we may derive rules from our self-stories that not only instruct us on how to live our lives, but can spare us from pain and discomfort, albeit at a cost.
The Cost of Coherence
The primary cost of coherence, in the form of fusion with sabotaging self-stories, is often the neglect of our values. As the reinforcing functions, or payoffs, of holding tightly to a story move us away from pain and discomfort, they also move us away from living a values-based life. If I’m too “weak” to assert myself, then I’m not likely to move towards what matters to me in challenging contexts; if I’m “helpless”, then any offers of support to enact my values are likely to be shot down; if I’m “worthless”, why bother caring for or respecting myself? While typically outside of one’s awareness, these costs tend to accumulate over time, leading to increased life dissatisfaction and disempowerment.
A Contextual Approach
So, as clinicians who encounter such sticky self-stories in those we serve, how can we effectively intervene? Firstly, given that we too have undoubtedly been visited by our own sabotaging self-stories, we can appreciate the commonality of human suffering and proceed with compassion. With sensitivity and curiosity, we can explore the landscape of our client’s story, noting when and how it shows up in session and in the context of their life. We can inquire about its’ origins, asking when they first recall it visiting them. Self-stories are derived from our sociocultural learning history, that is, in how we relate and respond to the interactions we have with others, especially those closest to us, such as family, friends, and peers. The key is that there’s a context that gave rise to the story, as opposed to the client being born with it. A question I often ask clients is, “If I were to have met you at 1 or 2 years old, would you have identified/labeled yourself as ‘unlovable’ (or substitute any other self-limiting belief)?”, to which they usually respond, “no, of course not.” “Ahh, ok,” I reply, “So, there was a ‘you’ before this story came on board — what do you make of that?” The aim here is for the client to notice that there’s more to them than this story.
Flexible Perspective-Taking
While exploring historical factors that may have influenced the development of self-stories, we can also evoke perspective-taking to foster more flexible responses. For instance, if the client is able to determine an approximate age of when they first experienced a particular self-limiting belief, we can invite them to imagine traveling back in time to visit that ‘younger self’, and then to consider how they would want to respond. We might say something like, “Imagine that you hop into a time machine and travel back to 1999 when that ‘younger you’ first felt worthless. You arrive and see them standing there before you, with tears in their eyes. And behind their eyes is that sense of worthlessness. What would you want to say to them? What would you want to do for them?” More often than not, such interventions will evoke compassionate responses, which while directed towards that ‘younger self’, will usually rub off onto the ‘current self’ too.
Creating a Context of Defusion
Earlier, you may have noticed my use of the word, “visit”, with respect to self-stories. Such language, or something functionally similar, can set the stage for defusion, which can be viewed as a process of distancing from, and/or transforming the effects of, the story in a way that it has less power/influence. Note that we’re NOT trying to challenge or get rid of the story, because if it’s well-developed and well-practiced, this would only evoke a doubling down (e.g. providing evidence) by the client as they attempt to preserve coherence. And, we may not use the word “story” at all if the client perceives it as invalidating. Alternative phrases include: “belief”, “narrative”, “(mental) script”, “inner critic” (if applicable), and if you’re feeling musical, a “record groove” or “tape playing on repeat” (I’m dating myself with these last two references). Naming the (verbal) behavior can foster defusion via a separation of the deictic (noticing) “I” from the behavior. Even better, we can invite the client to come up with their own name for the functional class of behavior, that is, a name that hierarchically includes the many forms that such selfing behaviors can take on. Recently, my client decided to name his group of self-criticizing/pessimistic behaviors, “Debbie Downer”, as a nod to the famous SNL sketch. And so, whenever this story would show up in session, in its myriad expressions, we would attempt to catch it in flight by stating, “There’s (or “Is that”) Debbie Downer(?)”, which of course, would also evoke a bit of humor in the process, helping to further transform the functions, or effects, of the story.
Collaborative Functional Assessment
Once we’ve helped the client to gain some distance from the story, to see it for what it is, we can collaboratively explore both the (potential) payoffs and costs of this ongoing behavior. We can ask, “What might your mind be attempting to do for you by reminding you that you are (fill in the blank)? In other words, if your mind had a good intention to keep labeling you in this way, what might it be trying to get, or get away from, for you?” Or similarly, “What might you get by holding onto this story? Does it protect you from something?” Uncovering such intended functions, including experiential avoidance (i.e. relief or escape from discomfort), can serve to normalize the client’s experience so that they don’t add an extra layer of self-criticism or shame for fusing with such stories to begin with.
Creative Hopelessness
And then, once again with compassion and respect, we can draw attention to the costs by asking, “And what are the downsides of holding onto this story? What’s happening over time — are the payoffs panning out or are the costs accumulating? Is this story holding you back from doing anything that’s important to you — from living the life you long to live? If you were to continue living out this story for the next 10 years, what impact would that have?” As such functions become clearer, sometimes through repeated exposures and inviting the client to “sit with” the costs, the story begins to loosen its grip. Previously more influenced by coherence or other (intended) payoffs, the client becomes increasingly sensitive to the costs. This process, called creative hopelessness in ACT, is not about making the client feel hopeless about themselves or their life, but rather to see the unworkability of a given behavior - in this case, fusing with an unworkable self-story. Note that we may need to keep returning to this process when experiential avoidance drives the fusion, that is when clients continue to derive negative reinforcement (i.e. escape from something aversive) by fusing with the story.
Shaping Functional Coherence
By regularly assessing and drawing attention to the workability of self-stories, that is how useful or not they are with respect to values-based living, we’re shaping a different kind of coherence, one that is based upon function rather than form. In other words, instead of being concerned with whether or not the content of our sense-making (of ourselves) is TRUE, in that it corresponds with our subjective experiences (i.e. with our reality), we become more invested in whether or not it serves a given goal, and in the case of ACT, we’re especially interested in the client’s values-based goals. Accordingly, we could periodically ask, “With respect to moving in the direction of what’s important to you, does this story help or hinder that process?” Or, “Are there certain contexts when it may be useful and others when it’s not?”
Values-Based Action (+ Willingness)
So, in ACT, undermining unworkable self-stories is not an end in itself, but rather a means to living life more fully. Once the client has gained some perspective and distance from the story, even if ever so slight, this creates space, and freedom, for more choice to emerge. We can explore, with the client, “What do you ideally want to be moving towards if (or now that) this story is no longer calling the shots? And, even if the story shows up (or is present), what could you still do that matters to you? Are you willing to allow this story to be there while you take action, if it means living the life you long to live?” We’d typically want to tailor such questions to the particular client and their contextual circumstances, getting as specific as possible, which can provide clients with something more concrete to focus on. And then, as the client takes small steps in the direction of their values, including while the mind might be shouting “you’re a loser” or “you’ll fail”, the story begins to lose its power, as it’s no longer being reinforced and the client is learning that they can choose and act freely in the presence of whatever stories or other verbal behavior may be operating behind the scenes.
