Friday, 20 February 2026

The Story You Tell Yourself Isn’t Always the One That Heals

There’s a particular kind of discomfort that doesn’t come from what happened. It comes from how we remember it. And more specifically, from how we need to remember it in order to survive. When Trauma Leaves a Quiet Aftertaste A few years ago, someone close to me went through a serious family health crisis. The kind that changes the emotional temperature of a household overnight. Fear, uncertainty, and exhaustion moved in quickly and made themselves at home. During that time, I had conversations with both the family member who was unwell and the person supporting them. What became clear was that recovery wasn’t happening under one roof. The unwell person chose to stay away from the family home because it felt overwhelming, intense, and emotionally draining. What struck me then was not the decision itself, but the emotional tone around it. There was a noticeable absence of distress about his absence. Almost a quiet acceptance. A settling into a new normal far faster than expected. It wasn’t wrong. But it was revealing. Because moments like these often expose shadow pieces of relationships - the parts we don’t usually look at unless life forces us to. What we don’t emotionally react to can sometimes tell us more than what we do. The Stories We Rewrite to Stay Whole Fast forward a few years. The anniversary of that difficult period came up in conversation. And what I heard this time was a very different story. Now, the narrative had shifted. It had softened. It sounded collaborative, measured, and mutual. “We decided together that it would be best for him to recover away from home.” Thoughtful. Considered. Almost noble. And I felt something tighten inside me. Because this version didn’t match the emotional reality I remembered. It wasn’t that the facts were wildly different - it was the meaning that had changed. There are a few possibilities when this happens. Sometimes memory fades and gets kinder with time. Sometimes perspective grows and brings compassion with it. And sometimes - quietly, unconsciously - we edit the past because the original truth is too painful to sit with in the present. None of these make someone bad. They make someone human. Why the Truth Can Feel Too Heavy to Hold The brain’s primary job isn’t honesty. It’s protection. When a truth threatens our identity, our relationships, or the story we tell ourselves about who we are, the mind intervenes. It reframes. It softens. It smooths the sharp edges. Because admitting “I was relieved when he wasn’t there” carries weight. It raises questions we may not be ready to answer. About love. About obligation. About resentment. About the parts of ourselves we’d rather not see. So instead, the story becomes safer. More socially acceptable. Easier to share in public spaces. This is not lying in the traditional sense. It’s survival. But survival stories have a cost. When we continuously override emotional truth, we also mute our capacity to heal. Because healing requires contact with what actually happened - not just what feels bearable to remember. You can’t resolve what you’ve quietly rewritten. What Healing Asks of You Instead Real emotional work isn’t about shaming yourself for the stories you tell. It’s about gently noticing them. It’s about asking, “What would it mean if the original version were true?” Because often, beneath the rewritten memory is grief that never got acknowledged, anger that never found language, or relief that didn’t feel allowed at the time. In People Building, this is where the real work begins. Not in blaming the past, but in telling it honestly - to yourself first. The truth doesn’t need to be dramatic to be powerful. It just needs to be real. And when you allow yourself to hold the full complexity of your emotional experience, something shifts. The nervous system softens. The body exhales. And the need to keep editing the past finally loosens its grip. You don’t have to punish yourself with the truth. But you do have to stop protecting yourself from it. by Gemma Bailey (with the help of Ai) https://www.peoplebuilding.co.uk/franchise

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