Last week, I got home from a work trip, twelve-hour days, four days on the road, dinner on the run, and a cancelled flight in the mix. I was exhausted. I dropped my bag in the hallway, kicked off my shoes, and collapsed on the couch.
A few minutes later, my husband Darrin walked past and said gently, “Do you want me to put your suitcase in the bedroom?”
That was it. A completely reasonable, even thoughtful question.
But in my tired state, I flared. My internal monologue kicked in fast: He’s complaining about my mess. I’ve just walked in the door and he’s already on my back. Doesn’t he understand what a busy week I have had?
And just like that, I wasn’t hearing his words, I was reacting to the story I’d told myself about them.
This is what we do. When we’re stretched thin or emotionally raw, we default to self-protection. Our brains rush in with meaning, often painting others as critical and ourselves as inadequate. It’s a quick, automatic, messy human response.
But most of the time, those stories aren’t true.
Darrin wasn’t criticising me, he was offering to help. I just couldn’t see it because I’d already decided I was failing.
In schools, we often fall into these stories:
- A student avoids eye contact, they’re being disrespectful.
- A colleague doesn’t reply, they’re ignoring me.
- A parent questions something, they’re attacking me.
But working restoratively offers a different approach.
It asks us to pause.
To assume positive intent, not because it’s always true or comfortable, but because it opens us up to possibility of connection, trust and repair.
To approach with curiosity instead of certainty. To consider, what else could be true?
This isn’t about excusing behaviour. It’s about understanding it so we can respond, not react.
When we catch the story early, we give ourselves a chance to stay open, curious and make space for understanding.
Next time something hits a nerve, ask yourself:
What’s the story I’m making up and what might change if I assumed positive intent instead?
