Why we tell ourselves stories

Last weekend my partner's sister celebrated her 80th birthday, bringing all four siblings together for the first time in twenty years. As they talked about their childhood, something unexpected happened. My partner realised that one of the stories he'd been telling himself about their early years simply wasn't true.

No one had lied to him.

He'd simply been too young to understand what things were really like. (And I’m glad to say the new story was a happier one).

Why our minds fill in the gaps

It’s not uncommon for people to have different stories about the past – and even about the present. So why do we do that? I think the answer has less to do with memory than with safety.

Psychologists sometimes describe this as our brains trying to reduce uncertainty. When information is missing, we naturally create explanations that help the world feel more predictable.

Sometimes it’s because there are gaps in the information. Things we are uncertain about.

This is something our brains don’t like. Our brains like certainty and predictability. Some neuroscientists describe it as a predictive brain, constantly trying to anticipate what is happening next from what has happened before.

So where there’s a gap it makes something up to fill it. It’s not that we’re irrational – it’s because this is what human brains do.

We all do this. It's part of how the brain makes sense of the world. When information is incomplete, our minds don't leave the gap empty. They fill it with the explanation that best fits our previous experiences.

The stories we tell in relationships

Unfortunately this need for certainty can really trip us up in relationships. Particularly when the gap is a ‘Why’ question.

For instance when your partner is late home without letting you know, there are so many possible interpretations. Is it because:

• They’ve been delayed in traffic?

• They don’t care enough to message you?

• They’ve been in an accident?

The event is identical. The stories aren't.

The difference between these responses isn't intelligence. It's the experiences that have taught our nervous systems what to expect. If you've generally experienced people as reliable, you'll probably assume there's a simple explanation. If your past has taught you that people disappear, let you down or were unpredictable, your mind may reach for a very different story.

I have always tended to go for the third option, ever since I was a teenager left in charge of my little sisters, while my parents were out for the evening. If they were half an hour late home, I’d start making up scenarios such as car accidents to explain the delay.

Whether it began in my early childhood or was reinforced by being sent away to boarding school at eleven, I don't know.

Children at boarding school often had very little information.

• Why haven't my parents written?

• Why didn't they visit?

• Why was I sent away?

• Why doesn't anyone seem to notice I'm upset?

Children can't tolerate endless uncertainty. So they create explanations, beliefs and strategies.

• Maybe I don’t matter to my parents.

• They didn’t have a choice but to send me away.

• I shouldn't need my parents now I’m 8 years old.

These stories help to reduce the uncertainty and make it possible for the child to adapt to a really difficult situation. They work as long as we stick to them. So we find it difficult to challenge them.

The tragedy is that the stories we create as children often outlive the circumstances in which they made sense.

They turn up in our relationships – with our partners, our children and our parents. It can feel deeply uncomfortable to question an understanding you’ve had for decades – about your parents, about what it means to be a child or about your relationship.

Making room for a new story

You can’t stop your brain telling stories. That’s what it’s designed to do. It’s always looking for predictability and certainty.

An old colleague of mine once said “If we create stories all the time, at least we can create positive stories.”

We can't always stop our minds coming up with an old story. But we can notice where the camera lens of our mind is pointing. We can turn it just a little and ask, "What else might be true?"

The old story may never disappear completely, but if you stop travelling down it every day and begin strengthening another one, eventually the new road becomes the easier route.

The more often we notice an old story without automatically believing it, the easier it becomes to see other possibilities. Over time, the old story stops being the only one our minds reach for.

The next time you find yourself absolutely certain why someone behaved the way they did, pause for a moment.

Ask yourself: ‘Is this what actually happened? Or is it the story my brain has created to make the world feel more predictable?’

Sometimes that single question is enough to loosen the grip of an old story and make room for a new one.

Watching the four siblings talking together at the weekend was a reminder that changing a story doesn't change the past. Their childhood didn't suddenly become different. But understanding it differently changed how they felt about it.

Understanding the stories our brains create is one of the keys to healthier relationships, especially when childhood experiences continue to shape how we interpret the people we love.

Let's explore your story together

We all tell ourselves stories. Some help us. Some of them keep us stuck.

If this article has left you wondering whether old stories are showing up in your relationship today, I'd be happy to help you explore that.

I offer a free 60-minute Clarity Call where we can talk about what's happening in your relationship and whether there's a different way of understanding it.

Book your free Clarity Call here

Common questions

Why do we make up stories when we don't know what happened?

Because our brains are designed to reduce uncertainty. When information is missing, we naturally create explanations based on our previous experiences.

How does childhood affect adult relationships?

The beliefs and strategies that helped us cope as children can continue to shape how we interpret our partner's behaviour decades later.