Rewriting the Story: How Narrative Therapy Helps Us See Ourselves in New Ways
Introduction
We are all storytellers. Every day, we shape and reshape the story of who we are — what we’ve experienced, what we’ve survived, and where we’re going next. These stories are not just idle thoughts; they’re the threads that hold together our sense of identity.
Yet, many of us live inside stories we didn’t fully choose. They might be stories passed down from family, shaped by trauma, or constructed from how others have seen us. Sometimes, these stories are empowering — filled with resilience, courage, and hope. Other times, they can limit us, holding us inside patterns of pain, guilt, or self-doubt.
Narrative therapy is a modality of therapy that invites us to look more closely at these stories — to ask: Whose story am I living? and What other stories are possible?
In this post, we’ll explore the foundations of narrative therapy, how it can help reframe your relationship to your past and present, and offer a reflective activity you can use to begin re-authoring your own story.
What Is Narrative Therapy?
Narrative therapy was developed in the 1980s by Australian social workers Michael White and David Epston, who believed that people are not the problems they face — rather, the problem is the problem. Their work offered a radical shift from traditional models of therapy that focus on diagnosing or pathologizing individuals.
Instead, narrative therapy suggests that our lives are shaped by the stories we tell about ourselves, and by the stories others tell about us. These stories influence our identities, relationships, and even our sense of what’s possible for our future.
At its core, narrative therapy is about externalizing problems — separating a person’s identity from the issues they face. For example, instead of saying “I am depressed,” we might say, “Depression has been visiting me.” This shift sounds subtle, but it changes everything. It opens the door to curiosity, compassion, and possibility. It says: You are not your depression. You are a person with a rich, complex story — and depression is only one chapter of it.
Why Stories Matter
Stories are meaning-making tools. They help us make sense of experiences, relationships, and even pain. But stories can also become traps.
For instance, if someone grows up hearing the story, “Our family just isn’t good at emotions,” they may carry that narrative into adulthood, believing emotional expression is unsafe or shameful. Or, if someone has lived through trauma, their story might become colored by themes of helplessness or danger, even long after the event has passed.
These stories are not lies — they are partial truths. They highlight certain events while leaving others out. In narrative therapy, we ask:
What are the dominant stories shaping this person’s life?
What stories have been silenced or overshadowed?
What counter-narratives might reveal resilience, courage, or agency that has gone unnoticed?
By engaging with these questions, narrative therapy helps individuals recognize that their identity is not fixed — it is multi-storied. Every life contains multiple narratives, and therapy becomes the space where we can choose which ones to nurture.
The Power of Externalizing
A central practice in narrative therapy is externalization — viewing problems as separate from ourselves.
When we externalize, we stop saying I am anxious and start saying Anxiety shows up when I feel out of control. That simple linguistic shift allows us to talk to the problem, not as the problem. It opens a space to examine when, where, and how it appears — and what might help us loosen its grip.
Externalization is powerful because it changes shame into curiosity. Instead of being consumed by an internal flaw, we become the observer of a dynamic. From there, we can begin to see patterns, develop strategies, and rediscover our capacity to choose.
For example:
Instead of “I’m lazy,” we might say, “Procrastination tends to show up when I’m overwhelmed or afraid of failing.”
Instead of “I’m broken,” we might say, “Pain has been trying to protect me from something for a long time.”
In narrative work, language becomes a bridge — transforming internalized judgment into a dialogue that invites healing.
Reclaiming Agency Through Story
When we begin to notice how stories shape us, something remarkable happens: we start to reclaim authorship of our lives.
This is one of the most empowering aspects of narrative therapy — the recognition that while we cannot change what has happened, we can change how we understand and respond to it.
Consider the story of someone who endured a difficult childhood. For years, their dominant story might be, “I was powerless and unloved.” While that story holds truth, it may also obscure another equally valid story: “I found ways to survive. I learned to read people’s moods quickly. I developed compassion for others’ pain.”
When we bring these alternative stories into focus, we begin to see the person not just as a victim, but as a survivor — even a thriver. This does not erase the pain of the past; it expands the narrative to include resilience, creativity, and strength.
Family Stories, Myths, and Cultural Narratives
Our personal stories don’t exist in isolation. They are deeply intertwined with family myths, cultural narratives, and intergenerational beliefs.
Maybe your family has a story about being “the strong ones who never ask for help,” or perhaps “the family that always looks perfect from the outside.” These myths serve a purpose — they can create belonging or pride — but they can also limit emotional expression and authenticity.
Cultural narratives can be equally powerful. Society tells stories about success, gender, race, beauty, and worth. We absorb these messages, often unconsciously, and they begin to shape how we see ourselves.
Narrative therapy helps us hold these external stories up to the light:
Which of these stories actually align with my values?
Which ones cause harm or restrict my growth?
What might a more authentic narrative look like?
By naming and questioning these inherited myths, we begin to build space for self-authored stories — ones that reflect who we truly are rather than who we were told to be.
Narrative Therapy and Trauma
Trauma can shatter our sense of continuity and meaning. It often leaves people feeling fragmented, defined only by what happened to them.
Narrative therapy offers a gentle but powerful way to approach trauma. It doesn’t force people to relive painful memories; instead, it helps them reorganize their relationship to those memories.
When someone tells their trauma story in therapy, they are not just recounting an event — they are making meaning. The therapist’s role is not to “fix” the story but to help the person locate the parts that reveal strength, courage, and persistence that were present even in moments of pain.
For instance, instead of centering solely on the narrative of “I was helpless,” a therapist might help the client explore:
“What helped you survive?”
“Who supported you, even in small ways?”
“What values guided you, even when things were hard?”
These questions don’t erase trauma, but they reweave the narrative, bringing forward the threads of resilience that were always there.
Finding Alternative Stories
In narrative therapy, alternative stories are the quieter truths that often go unnoticed — the moments of strength, connection, or joy that exist alongside pain.
White and Epston described the process of “thickening” these alternative stories — giving them detail, context, and emotion so that they can stand alongside the dominant narratives in our lives.
For example, if someone’s dominant story is “I always mess things up,” therapy might invite them to recall a time when they handled something with care or success. What was happening in that moment? Who noticed it? How did it feel?
Over time, these moments begin to accumulate, creating a more balanced, complex, and compassionate view of oneself.
Bringing in Other Narratives: Art, Myth, and Metaphor
Narrative therapy doesn’t just rely on personal storytelling — it also invites us to draw from other narrative sources: literature, mythology, film, poetry, and art.
These external stories can serve as mirrors, metaphors, or guides. Someone might find resonance with the myth of Persephone’s descent and return, seeing their own trauma and healing mirrored in that cycle. Another person might identify with a character from a novel who reclaims their voice after being silenced.
When we engage with myth and metaphor, we step out of literal self-description and into symbolic meaning-making. This gives us distance from pain while also deepening understanding. It reminds us that our struggles are part of the universal human story — not evidence of our brokenness.
Narrative Therapy in Daily Life
While narrative therapy is often practiced in clinical settings, its principles can easily be applied in daily life. Here are a few ways to begin integrating narrative thinking:
Listen for language. Notice how you talk about yourself. Do your words sound rigid or compassionate? Can you shift “I am…” statements into “I notice…” or “I’ve been experiencing…”?
Map your stories. Identify dominant narratives that show up in your life. Then, write down smaller, alternative stories that challenge or soften those narratives.
Name your values. Ask yourself what matters most — and which stories honor those values.
Seek witnesses. Share your alternative stories with trusted friends, mentors, or communities who can help reinforce them.
Narrative change is relational — our new stories grow stronger when others can hear and affirm them.
Reflective Activity: Rewriting a Limiting Story
The following exercise invites you to engage directly with the ideas of narrative therapy. Set aside 30–45 minutes of quiet time, a notebook, and a compassionate mindset.
Step 1: Identify a Dominant Story
Think of a story you tell yourself often — one that feels limiting or painful.
Examples:
“I always attract the wrong people.”
“I’m not creative.”
“I can’t change.”
Write it down in a sentence or two.
Step 2: Externalize It
Now, rewrite that story by separating it from your identity.
For example:
Instead of “I always attract the wrong people,” write “Unhelpful relationship patterns keep showing up in my life.”
Instead of “I’m not creative,” write “Creativity feels blocked lately.”
Notice how this shift allows you to see the story as something that interacts with you, rather than defines you.
Step 3: Get Curious
Ask yourself:
When does this story feel strongest?
Who or what reinforces it?
What parts of my life contradict it?
Write freely. You might be surprised at the nuance that appears.
Step 4: Find the Thin Story
Look for small moments — even brief ones — that reveal a different story.
Perhaps there was a day when you did express creativity, or a time you set a healthy boundary. Write about that moment in vivid detail.
What values were present in that moment? Courage? Compassion? Integrity? Those values are clues to your preferred story.
Step 5: Thicken the Alternative Story
Now, expand your alternative story. Write it as if it were a chapter in a book — describe the setting, emotions, and shifts that occurred. Name the qualities in yourself that made it possible.
This “thickening” process strengthens the new narrative so it can coexist with — and eventually transform — the old one.
Step 6: Witness Your Story
If you feel comfortable, share your new narrative with someone you trust. Being witnessed can be a powerful part of narrative transformation. If that’s not possible, read it aloud to yourself or write it in a letter to your future self.
Closing Thoughts
Narrative therapy reminds us that we are more than the sum of our experiences. We are not fixed characters in a story someone else wrote — we are authors, co-creating meaning with every word, memory, and act of courage.
Our stories can evolve. They can hold both pain and resilience, grief and growth. Through reflection, externalization, and imagination, we can learn to see ourselves not as broken, but as beautifully, dynamically human — capable of rewriting even the most painful narratives into stories of strength, compassion, and connection.
As you move through your own story, remember: every chapter is a chance to listen deeper, edit gently, and write anew.