My introduction to storytelling came from standing up in front of a crowded bar and sharing stories from my life with a room full of people.
I was involved with a group of friends that ran a monthly storytelling show and for the better part of three years, this was a regular aspect of my life.
Most of the time I would tell stories that reflected funny, yet poignant moments of my life; like the change in my musical tastes as I navigating the period between adolescence and puberty, or the time I went to a Burning Man-style festival to try to “loosen up” only to come to terms with my generally “unloose” nature.
In those days we also spent a lot of time helping each other out with our stories and performances. We had regular critique and coaching sessions.
One of the common lines of questions that always came up as we dug deeper into each other’s stories was “why?”
“Why did you throw out your B-52s CD for Metallica when you were 14? Couldn’t you have listened to the B-52s AND Metallica? Why the hard switch?
Or
“Why did you bother going to a Burning Man-style festival anyway? You don’t like the music. Nothing about you suggests you’d like the culture. Sure, there’s value in trying new things, but most people don’t make that type of commitment. What were you hoping to achieve or experience?”
The short answer to both of these sets of questions was that I was desperately trying to carve out my own identity and figure out where I fit in the world, but I didn’t know that when I began writing these stories.
My first drafts were always very defensive and never talked about myself. In fact, most of the ink in those first drafts was spent on making fun of others, which didn’t turn out to be as funny as I thought it would be.
Digging in deeper into my stories forced me to ask questions about myself that I never really explored before.
Why did I decide to go to a festival at age 35 and try to fit in with that culture?
Why did I only really make a half-hearted attempt and never bothered to try to connect with people in that world beforehand or at the event?
Why did I spend the whole time formulating snarky takes on the whole experience instead of just “letting loose”?
Why did I even presume “letting loose” was a goal I needed to achieve or that I would discover how to do it at a Burning Man-style festival?
The introspection forced me to come to terms with a lot of the ways my own insecurities and need for acceptance have guided my actions over the years. I had never noticed this before that time, but by digging deeper into my own story, I was forced to confront this.
In the end, the festival story ended up being about how I had to come to terms with the more uptight aspects of myself, and find a way to accept that this is a part of me, but it doesn’t have to control me. I also learned to quit seeking acceptance in places that aren’t meant for me, and instead find the people and places that accept me and help me thrive.
In sharing that story with a bar full of people, I did have to put myself out there in a way that I found scary at the time. But you know what? It also connected me with a lot of people that had similar perspectives, challenges, and insecurities about finding their place in the world.
None of that would have happened if I didn’t do the introspective work of addressing my life story through the story I shared in the bar.
By taking a deeper look at how I was framing the experiences of my life it forced me to open up, take a look at my own insecurities, and lean into the discomfort that comes with vulnerability.
Sharing your story is a vulnerable act. Vulnerability can be uncomfortable, but it opens the doors to so many wonderful things.
The key to connection is vulnerability. The key to vulnerability is your story.
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Storytelling is a fascinating aspect of how we perceive the world and exist as humans. If you’d like to learn more, download the Storytelling Primer below and start learning more about storytelling today.