Earlier this summer, I started reading Laura Dave’s Eight Hundred Grapes, a novel about a woman who runs away from her wedding after learning that her fiance has a daughter he didn’t tell her about. (That’s not a spoiler; I just told you what Georgia – the narrator – finds out in the first chapter.)
Full disclosure: I didn’t finish the book (though my friend Hallie loved it and recommended it on Great New Books, where we’re both part of the review team).
But there’s one line I’m still thinking about, weeks later:
Wasn’t the ultimate form of fidelity whom you told your stories to?
In the book, this line refers to Georgia’s faltering relationship with her fiance: she’s (rightly) furious that Ben hasn’t told her about his daughter, or that he’s still in touch with his ex (the little girl’s mother). But I’ve been thinking about it in a broader sense.
As Joan Didion has noted, “we tell ourselves stories in order to live.” That’s especially true for those of us who view the world through words: readers, writers and bloggers who make and share meaning through stories.
Some of us are born storytellers, like my dad, whose sense of comedic timing and infectious laugh make it fun to listen to his stories over and over again. (I can retell many of them word for word – even if I wasn’t there when they happened.)
But all of us tell our stories to the people we love, whether it’s a funny incident at work or a life-changing moment in the middle of an ordinary Tuesday. And when we don’t – when we start to hide things or simply stop making the effort – it stands to reason that those relationships would start to fray.
Last year, my friend Laura wrote a terrifying and powerful blog post: And then I stopped talking to my husband. She didn’t literally stop talking to her husband, but she gradually quit sharing a lot of daily incidents and insights (which, in her case, happened mostly online) with him. They talked about their kids and their household routine, but they stopped discussing the important stuff – until one day, when he was driving her to the airport and didn’t know where she was heading. This caused a few understandable tears on Laura’s part, but they talked it out, and started making the effort again.
That post terrified me because I saw how easy it could be. How simple and effortless to stop telling your stories – until you don’t really know each other any more. I sent the link to my husband, and I’ve been thinking about it again since Eight Hundred Grapes brought it to mind.
It’s so important to keep telling my stories, not just to my husband, but to my family and friends (many of whom live far away). I want to be faithful in telling my stories and hearing theirs, even when it takes work. (And sometimes it takes a lot of work.)
Lindsey noted last fall that friendship is made of attention, and I believe this is a part of that. We share our lives through stories, and they are foundational to our relationships. To paraphrase Didion, we tell ourselves – and each other – stories in order to live.
What do you think? Who are the people you tell your stories to?
cakes, tea and dreams 
Your post is so thought-provoking and sounds an alert in my head! When I compare and contrast those times I step forward to tell my spouse my daily stories I find that the investment and sometimes the risk (the stories aren’t always good news for him) is worthwhile and increases the intimacy in our relationship. Even though it is often easier for me to keep the stories to myself. I love how you frame what we need to talk about as “stories” because they really are the narrative of our experiences and thoughts. Deciding who gets to hear the stories determines how deep and meaningful the relationships.
The stories definitely are a risk, sometimes. But I do think it’s a worthwhile one!
Wow! Love you, Aunt Carmen
Oh, I love that phrase and image! 800 Grapes is on my list … I should read xox
This is a good wake-up call for marriage, isn’t it? We girls tend to be over-sharers in our family. We still tell our stories to one another through a group email called The Breakfast Club. Sometimes I’m framing a story for the Club in my head while I’m still experiencing the moment. I hope we never lose that, no matter how scattered across the country we live.
I love that Breakfast Club image. You Nickerson girls make me smile.
Whooaa, this is so good. My husband and I have wildly different day jobs and very different extracurricular passions. This is such a great reminder to keep telling each other our stories even if we have to add a bit of extra context., e.g., when I tell him about this blog post I read today I may have to remind him who “my online friend Katie” is, even though he’s heard it once or twice. 😉
I hear this. I have to remind my husband who my blog friends are all the time – though he’s heard a lot about you Nickerson girls. 😉