When the Story stops making sense

When the Story Stops Making Sense

Sometimes crisis is not the event itself, but the moment you realize the old story no longer fits.

Last week, I had the opportunity to attend a coaching workshop about the use of story in coaching. One idea has stayed with me ever since: A crisis can be defined as a story that no longer makes sense.
I’ve thought a lot about the power of story over the years. As humans, we make meaning through stories. We tell stories to understand who we are, where we’ve been, what matters, and what we believe is possible.
But this particular idea landed differently.Because when we think about crisis, we often think about the event itself.

The job loss.
The divorce.
The diagnosis.
The death.
The business wobble.
The child who is struggling.
The unexpected change we did not see coming.

And yes, those events can absolutely be disruptive, painful, and life-altering. But sometimes, the crisis is not only what happened. For the individual, the real crisis begins when the story we have been living inside no longer explains our life.

Crisis as a Meaning Gap

In the corporate world, we use the words crisis management and crisis communications often. I came from that world, and in industries like energy, government, and public-facing organizations, crisis preparation matters.
You prepare for the oil spill.
The fire.
The natural disaster.
The operational failure.
The issue that could affect people, reputation, safety, or trust.
And in those situations, the crisis is not only about solving the physical or operational issue. It’s also about helping people understand what happened, what it means, what is being done, and what comes next. In other words, it’s about meaning.
But what if the crisis is happening in your own life? Not just outside of yourself, to someone else, in some other town? What happens when the thing that changes is not only your circumstance, but your understanding of yourself?
A personal crisis can happen when a familiar story no longer works. When what you have always known no longer makes sense. When the explanation you have been carrying can no longer hold the truth of your experience.
It can sound like:

● Who am I without this marriage?
● Who am I without this job?
● Who am I now that this person is no longer in my life?
● Who am I now that my children no longer need me in the same way?
● Who am I if the life I worked so hard to build does not feel the way I thought it would?

That’s the meaning gap. It’s the space between what used to be true and what is becoming true now. The crisis can be the gap between what we’ve always known and how to make meaning in the new.
And that gap can feel deeply uncomfortable.

This intersection between what we used to know and what’s transforming in front of us form the topic of coaching conversations every day. (Take a look at this article I wrote a few years ago where I explore what that can mean for your business or career.) How do we interpret these events? How do we make meaning out of them so they make sense to us? How do we find comfort in the uncomfortable?
This especially hits home when you are used to being in control. When you’re used to making the decisions, when you’re used to being the capable one, when you’re used to being the one who holds it all together.

You’re probably used to functioning well, to leading with purpose, to parenting beautifully, to being productive. You hold it together on the outside almost always, but on the inside? When the story no longer works? That’s where the real struggle often lies.
It’s the gap: what is true now? And what are you holding onto as an old story that no longer fits?

I explore that gap in this article I wrote about having outgrown an older version of yourself and learning to lean into the discomfort of who this new version of you might be.
On the outside, everything looks like status quo, but on the inside? There’s dissonance.

The Quiet Crisis of Success

Sometimes the crisis doesn’t come because something has gone terribly wrong. Sometimes it comes because things have gone exactly as planned.
You achieved the thing. You got the title. Raised the family. Built the career. Bought the house.
Started the business. Earned the respect. Became the person everyone knew you could become.
And then one day, perhaps quietly and unexpectedly, you realize: this isn’t what I want anymore. You’ve worked so hard to get here, and almost suddenly, it doesn’t hold the meaning it once did. What happened? Did you change? Did the job change? Did the people around you change? It’s likely that all of it changed, bit by bit, in micro-moments through the evolution of your life. And yet the story inside your head didn’t keep up. The story in your head of who you are stayed the same.
You may find you are living an outdated version of your own story.

Are You Having an Identity Crisis?

We can also refer to this as self-identity. We often use the phrase “identity crisis” casually, but there’s something very real about the moment you look at your life and are no longer sure where you fit inside it.
And then there’s the negative self-talk:

• “I should be grateful.”
• “I’ve worked so hard to get here.”
  “This is what success is supposed to look like.”
• “I can’t change now.”
• “People are counting on me.”
• “I should be able to handle this.”
• “This is just what leadership/life/business requires.”
• Or perhaps it’s:
• “Why doesn’t this feel like enough?”
• “What’s wrong with me?”
• “Everyone else seems satisfied!”
• “Is this really it? I rinse and repeat for the rest of my life?”

Crisis as an invitation to rewrite your story

But what if your crisis is an invitation to rewrite your story. What if it isn’t a crisis? What if it’s a signal that you get to rewrite your current story and add on to it. Perhaps there’s another chapter. Maybe there’s another book waiting to be written by you?
There’s an opportunity for a new story to emerge. It just means you’re growing, you’re evolving, and you’re continuing to be an active participant in writing the story of your life.

How to tell it’s time to rewrite your story

Often the time for a rewrite – or a next chapter – creeps upon us in micro-moments. And yet, the realization can land like a ton of bricks. Like when you realize, finally, that you’re making too much food for your weeknight family dinners as everyone isn’t living at home anymore.
Or when you find that you actually don’t have to get up at 5AM to workout and walk the dog and get the kids to school on time because the kids are walking themselves to school.
Or that you actually are really bored in your job and that darn boss of yours isn’t going anywhere. Perhaps it’s time for you to take charge, and rewrite this next page in your book of life.
You may be feeling restless, resentful, tired of your “role” in a relationship and you question what you’re doing this “all” for. You may feel guilty for wanting something different. And what used to excite you doesn’t excite you anymore.
This is not failure. It’s information.

Crisis as a threshold

This is your invitation to explore what you want for your next chapter. You can stay in “crisis” mode as long as you like – as long as it takes. But you get to choose when you decide to start writing your next chapter, your next story.
What if you looked at your current crisis as a threshold between the story that brought you here and a newly written story that will carry you forward?
Now I invite you to get curious. What do these insights mean? What is the discomfort leading me to? What do I need to leave behind and what will I now walk towards?
It may be time to rewrite or reframe the story you’ve been holding onto. Here’s my invitation to you: What’s possible from here, when you hold the pen?