Why Storytelling Can Feel Healing but Keep You Stuck

You've probably worked with coaches who tell long, emotional stories to illustrate every point.

And sometimes it feels helpful — because it's relatable, it's familiar. You can see yourself in it.

But here's what I do differently.

When I use a story, it's short. It's precise. It's only there to help you recognize the pattern you're in right now — not to explain where it came from, or why it makes sense, or what happened in your past.

You already know your story. You've told it. You've lived it.

So the moment we see the pattern clearly — we come right back here, into this moment.

Because this is where change actually happens.

For many of us, storytelling is how we've learned to access emotion — to name it, to make sense of it, to finally feel it. But sometimes, the very thing that helps us open can also become the thing that keeps us from going deeper.

You might think of the stories that uplift you — the ones that open your heart or remind you of what's possible.

As you do, notice how your body responds. You may feel warmth, expansion, maybe even love.

That's real — and it's coming from within you. The story simply reminded you of it.

What we're training here is the ability to stay connected to that state, even when the story isn't present.

That shift — from using the story as an access point to living the state directly — is where the real work begins.

Where Storytelling Usually Shows Up

Most of us learned to explain ourselves through stories.

When something feels important, or vulnerable, or uncertain, the instinct is to reach for a past example — to describe what happened before, to offer context so that the other person understands why something matters to you now.

It feels natural. It feels like connection.

And for a lot of people, it's the only way they know how to make sense of what they're experiencing.

In coaching, this shows up quickly. Someone begins describing what's happening in their internal world, and before they realize it, they've slipped into a long narrative about the past — how someone used to treat them, what their childhood was like, a relationship that shaped a belief, a moment that feels defining.

What's really happening there is that the nervous system is searching for orientation.

It's trying to get stable by going back to something familiar.

The challenge is: the emotional state in that story is the emotional state that gets reinforced when we tell it.

Even if the story is framed as insight, understanding, or meaning-making, the nervous system doesn't differentiate. It simply trains whatever emotional intensity is present in that memory.

So every time the story gets repeated, the old emotional pattern gets practiced again.

When I say "story," I mean the narrative that pulls awareness away from the raw experience of the moment and back into a conditioned emotional pattern — not a metaphor, but the shift from what's actually happening to the mind's interpretation of it.

When I say "no story," I don't mean rejecting narrative altogether — I mean refusing to use narrative as a substitute for presence.

This is why I use storytelling very differently in coaching.

The Difference Between Recognition and Reinforcement

There's a useful way to tell a story, and a way that keeps someone stuck.

A useful story is short. Direct. It helps someone recognize something they're doing in real time.

It names the pattern without creating emotional build-up around it.

For example, someone might say:

"I notice that right before I speak up, I pull back internally."

That's it. No backstory needed.

Now we're here — present — working with the actual pattern happening now.

But most storytelling pulls attention into the past.

It creates emotional intensity that belongs to a version of you that isn't here anymore.

And the nervous system practices that intensity as if it's happening today.

If someone remembers a moment where they felt dismissed, the emotional state practiced is being dismissed.

If they remember a moment where they felt unseen, the emotional state practiced is being unseen.

Even if the story is told calmly, the body remembers the emotional experience that shaped it.

This is the state being trained.

So the focus becomes clear:

Are we telling this story to orient, or are we telling it to relive?

The first expands capacity.

The second trains the same limitation.

When "Good" Storytelling Feels Helpful

Sometimes the stories that move us — a film, a podcast, someone's journey — seem to lift us.

They make us feel love, hope, compassion.

And that's real.

But those emotions are still being triggered by what we're watching or hearing.

They aren't being generated from within.

And the nervous system learns where emotion comes from.

When we rely on outside stories to inspire us, we train: "I feel love when something moves me," instead of "I can live love now."

So even the good ones — the ones that open the heart — can train dependency if they become the only way we access those states.

This is the state being trained.

A Practical Example From Coaching

Let's say someone comes in and says they feel stuck in their relationship.

If we go into storytelling mode, what usually follows is:

how the dynamic developed, what the other person did, when that same pattern happened before, why it triggers something deeper, how long it's been happening.

The emotional state being practiced there is the state of being stuck.

Instead, we can work with the present moment.

"What's the internal experience you're having right now when you think about that dynamic?"

They might say: "There's tension in my chest. I feel small. I feel pulled inward."

That's the actual material.

Now the work becomes:

Can you stay with that sensation without collapsing into it?

Can you breathe into it without trying to fix it?

Can you train a different emotional state while the situation remains unresolved?

What changes isn't the story.

What changes is the internal state.

And when the state shifts, the behaviors shift.

The communication shifts.

The way we show up shifts.

No story needed.

Because the work is happening in the current moment, not in the memory of a previous one.

Why Many Coaches Lean on Storytelling

A lot of coaches use storytelling because it creates resonance quickly.

It's a way to show: "I get it. I've been there. You're not alone."

That can be comforting.

But it can also keep both people inside the same emotional frame.

Coach and client both train the same emotional pattern together.

The relationship becomes built on shared emotional history, rather than the capacity to hold a different internal state.

The coaching then becomes about understanding, analyzing, processing, explaining, meaning-making.

And the nervous system keeps training the same emotional responses that have always been there.

The person may feel seen, but they don't necessarily change.

When I use a story, I use it for one purpose: to help someone recognize a pattern they are already living.

Once the recognition is there, we return here — to the present moment, to the emotional state being trained right now.

Because this is where capacity develops.

You might notice a part of you wanting to defend storytelling right now.

That's okay. That part has practiced finding meaning in stories for a long time.

It's been trained to locate inspiration outside of you — in someone else's path, in a movie, in a talk that moved you.

That impulse isn't wrong; it's just practiced.

And this work is about retraining where your state comes from — not from the story, but from within your own system.

Conscious Storytelling as Training

So yes, I do use storytelling.

But it's intentional, precise, and brief.

Three things stay constant:

The story doesn't explain.

The story doesn't justify.

The story doesn't create emotional momentum.

It simply names a pattern:

"I noticed I felt my chest tighten before I spoke."

"I caught myself hesitating even though I wanted to move."

"I realized I was already preparing for disappointment."

Short.

Clear.

Present-tense.

Because that's where the nervous system can be retrained.

That's where emotional capacity expands.

That's where alignment develops when the external situation hasn't changed yet.

When It's a "Good" Story

Sometimes it's not the painful stories that hold us — it's the beautiful ones.

The memories where everything aligned, where love or gratitude felt effortless.

It's easy to believe revisiting those moments keeps us connected to that goodness.

But when the feeling depends on the memory, the memory still holds the power.

That trains a subtle pattern: "Joy happens when conditions were right."

So even though the story feels positive, it's still training separation from the state itself.

When you train the state directly — here, now — love and gratitude stop being something you find again.

They become something you live from.

This is the state being trained.

When Storytelling Becomes a Way to Avoid Feeling

Sometimes storytelling is used to avoid being in the emotional experience itself.

Someone begins to approach the core sensation — the discomfort, the fear, the tenderness — and the story comes in as a buffer.

It turns attention outward: to explanation, to context, to history.

This can feel productive.

It can feel like insight.

It can feel like clarity.

But what's actually happening is distance from the internal experience.

When we tell the story instead of sitting in the sensation, we're training avoidance.

If you're noticing yourself in this, there's nothing wrong.

This is simply a pattern that was practiced.

And patterns can be retrained.

Where Capacity Expands

The work is to notice:

When do I shift into storytelling?

What emotional state is present right before I begin the story?

And what happens if I stay with the sensation instead of telling it?

This is where emotional training becomes real.

Not by analyzing the past.

Not by explaining the story.

But by practicing a new internal state while the old one is still available.

The nervous system learns from repetition.

Every time we remain in the present moment rather than the story, capacity expands.

Reflection

Before we end, take a moment with this. No need to analyze it. Just notice what comes up:

What emotional state are you practicing most often — without realizing it?

If you want to train this more directly, the Inner Foundation Method is where we work with these states in a consistent, structured way.

It helps you build a steady internal baseline you can return to, no matter the situation.

If you'd rather stay in conversation with this work week to week, there's the newsletter as well.

And if day-to-day reminders are helpful, I'm on Instagram at @mikewangcoaching.

This work isn't about changing the story.

It's about how you show up inside the moments you're already living.

There's something meaningful in noticing the subtleties of your own state.