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Telling your story to mental health worker(s)

               Where your story meets your ‘case history’

               For many of us, one of the most common situations in which we ‘tell our story’ is to mental
               health workers – often many times, to different professionals, in different contexts.


               Some  of  these  people  –  a  GP  who  schedules  patients  in  15-minute  blocks,  staff  at  the
               emergency department of your local hospital – work under massive time pressures. In such

               settings, there’s often not enough time to share as much of your story as would be needed for
               real understanding.


               At the other end of the spectrum, in many ‘talking therapies,’ the telling of your story  – in
               intimate detail – is central to the process. However, even in these contexts, there are ways in

               which storytelling is complicated by issues of power, clinical orientation, and different styles
               of relating – ranging from very intimate to quite remote.


               It is important to be aware of some of these issues because it’s possible to get hurt trying to
               tell too much of your story to people who are not employed to listen in the way we may want,

               but instead are expected to act swiftly, diagnose, prescribe and look for signs of stress in our
               voices and body language rather than really listening to what we are actually saying.


               Many clinicians are taught that ‘through science and study they must know’ – to them, story
               is not science.


               Turning our stories into ‘a history’ – the inevitable medicalisation of our stories

               The difference between ‘taking a history’ and ‘sharing our story’ is a matter of perspective.

               When a mental health worker ‘takes a history’ the perspective is clinical  – they listen, ask
               certain questions and record what they understand from what we are saying, using clinical

               concepts, medical jargon and sometimes judgment.

               Even when we try to emphasise those parts of our story that are important to us, the clinician

               may be listening for different information that they’ve been taught to listen for as part of their

               history-taking  recipe.  While  this  can  be  both  necessary  and  helpful,  it  can  also  feel  like
               they’re not really listening, because  they are not listening in the way we might  want to be

               heard!

               This can also be a form of co-option – not only of the content and language we use but also of
               the emphasis: what is important and what is not. Some of us challenge this, some of us find

               the  predictability  deeply  reassuring,  while  others  have  no  idea  what’s  going  on  (or  don’t



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