Getting Personal The Life Story Coach

As a personal historian, we don't often share about ourselves. Should we? Today’s topic is sharing. But not about the clients sharing their story. Instead, we’ll talk about how much we can and should share about ourselves. In episode 8, I warn personal historians away from sharing about themselves (and then tell you about how I broke that rule). In this episode, I share how a couple of recent incidents have made me rethink that.
What a conversation with a podcaster taught me A couple weeks ago I had a long conversation with Jennifer Gardner, the host of the podcast Roamhowl. During our hour-long phone conversation, we explored whether I might be a good fit for her show. At quick glance, I met her criteria. Mid-life career change, check. Change spurred by painful life episode: check. Out-of-the-ordinary steps taken that might appeal to others: check. Extra dollop of hardship: check.
In other words, we talked about how I started The Story Scribe, my personal history business, when I was in the midst of a divorce, during a time when I was moving each week between the kids’ home and the secondary residence my ex-husband and I shared as part of our “nesting” arrangement. I told her about a lot of the hard stuff—some expected, some not—that happened during this dark period.
Our conversation is hard. The conversation was full of starts and stops. Basically, she kept asking me to dig deeper, to paint the picture for her of what my life had been like. And I tried, but the deeper we got into it, the more panicky I felt. I was hitting up against a wall.
The more longer we talked, the more frantic I felt.
Words failed me. Over and over.
I’ve always considered myself to be pretty good at self-reflection, but it that’s what happens on the page, when I’m writing. As it turns out, I’m not that great at sharing in conversation.
It wasn’t just the facts she was going for; she was mining for my reactions, my feelings, my reflections and interpretations. I gave a little start when she asked me what I had learned from one particular experience. Hey! I thought. That’s my question!
Dive deep—but not on me! When I interview people about their life, after someone tells me about something about a big event or incident, I regularly ask, “How did that make you feel?” or “What did you learn from that?” (The first question tends to be easier for women; men do better with the second one.) Sometimes you watch as the storyteller struggles to find words. Sometimes they never do.
I like to think that I show sensitivity during these times. But until my talk with Jennifer, until I was on the other side of the interview table, so to speak, I didn’t fully understand how hard it can be to share in a coherent way. Not just the facts, but the storyteller’s reactions to things.
A couple weeks ago, I had a client apologize for not “knowing” the answers to some of my questions. I hate that, because a storyteller should NEVER feel like they aren’t “doing” it right. Another client (both are men) asked me at the end of our iv if he was doing good. It was sweet but also a sign that I need to improve. I need to find a better way to convey that there is no right or wrong. I tell my storytellers many times not to worry about questions they can’t answer, that I’m just doing my thing of poking around to look for their stories, but I want to do a better job at convincing them.
So that’s one thing that my pre-interview interview with Jennifer taught me--an appreciation for how hard it can be to answer questions about your life. Not because you don’t want to, but because you haven’t maybe churned through it and made sense of it. So I think I’ll have more understanding when a storyteller doesn’t know how to talk about something. (As an aside, I also learned that nope, no way am I prepared to bare myself to the world on a podcast. No. No.)
Try this at home. It might be a good exercise for any of us personal