Good storytelling is an interactive event. It’s me inviting you to sit down next to me, join me for a cup of coffee, and, as they say in Hawai’i, “talk story.”
I’ll get naked. Metaphorically. Nothing is off the table, hidden, clothed in metaphors, and TMI does not exist. The idea is for you to be comfortable enough me to elicit authentic reactions.
I’m not lecturing. I’m not even teaching. I’m sure as hell not standing behind a podium talking while others just listen. This is simple communication, true communication, a joint effort.
Triggering? Possibly. But in a comfortable way. As comfortable as possible. That’s when I’ll wrap my arm around your shoulders to convey that it is all right, you are not alone, I’ve been there, down the darkest of paths, and here we are now, in the warm sunlight, talking story.
For me, my storytelling is my mental health 12th step. God I screwed up. Often. In my 54 years, I always found the hard way to do things. Conditions that existed pushed me down the harder paths that took me away from where I wanted and needed to go. There were so many times that I thought to myself, “I wish this could be just a little easier.”
My storytelling is about the pearls. I learned I can spend all weekend at an educational conference, sit through hours of lectures, but what I end up taking home are the pearls I pick up in chance conversations.
My storytelling is to engage. I’ve read the books, did the therapy, and did the work. I learned a lot. But some of the most transformative things I’ve learned are from chance engagements, hearing other’s stories and insights of what they have learned.
Will you sit with me and have a cup of coffee and see what we can discover about ourselves?
Gentler Insanities Anonymous 
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