The Mid-Year Reset Your Storytelling Practice Might Need

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In This Episode

By this point in the year, storytelling can start to feel different.

You’re still showing up to the interviews, the deadlines, the back and forth. But something begins to shift. A story lingers longer than you expect. A decision stays with you after it’s made. You start to notice the weight of the work in a way that’s harder to ignore.

In this episode, I’ll explore with you what it means to arrive at that moment, not as something to fix, but as something to pay attention to.

Together, we name the parts of storytelling that often go unspoken. The emotional load that builds over time. The tension between urgency and care. The quiet ways decision fatigue can shape how stories are gathered and shared.

If your work has been feeling heavier lately, this conversation is an invitation to pause, reflect, and consider what a more supported, sustainable storytelling practice might look like from here.

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Transcripts

By this time of year, for many storytellers, you’re in it.

You’re in the emails, the deadlines, the interview scheduling, the back and forth with program staff, the pressure to get something out the door.

You’re holding stories that don’t always leave when the interview ends. You’re navigating consent in real time. You’re making judgment calls without always having the space to think them through.

And somewhere along the way, storytelling can start to feel heavier than you expected.

Not because you’re doing something wrong, but because this work is not neutral.

Summer is often when that becomes very clear.

There’s something about the middle of the year that invites a different kind of reflection. Something more honest. It’s the moment where you can feel what your storytelling practice is actually asking of you. And for many people, it’s a lot.

So this episode is not about fixing everything. It’s not about adding more to your plate. It’s a check-in. A pause. A chance to notice what’s working, what’s not, and what might need to shift.

Let’s name something that often goes unspoken.

Storytelling is not just a technical skill. It’s relational work. It’s emotional work. It’s trauma-informed work. And by mid-year, you’ve likely felt that in your body.

Maybe it shows up as a kind of quiet heaviness after an interview. You finish the call, you close your laptop, and the story is still sitting with you hours later.

Or a story that lingers longer than you expected. You find yourself thinking about that person while making dinner, or while trying to fall asleep.

Or a moment where something didn’t feel quite right, but you moved forward anyway because the timeline was tight. Maybe you used a quote that felt a little more vulnerable than necessary. Maybe you kept a detail in because it made the story stronger, even though you paused for a second when you read it.

Maybe it looks like tension.

Between what your organization needs and what feels aligned with your values. You’re asked to highlight urgency, but the way it’s framed starts to feel a little too close to pressure.

Between telling a story that will resonate and protecting the person at the center of it. You’re deciding whether to include a detail that might help fundraising, but could also expose more than the story owner intended.

Between moving quickly and moving with care.

And then there’s the pace.

The expectation that stories keep coming. That there’s always another one to gather, another one to write, another one to share.

At a certain point, it stops feeling like storytelling and starts feeling like output. And when that happens, it becomes much harder to stay connected to why you started doing this work in the first place.

You might not name it this way, but what many storytellers are experiencing by this point in the year is a combination of emotional load, decision fatigue, and a nervous system that hasn’t had much time to reset.

And again, this is not a personal failure. It means your work may need more structure, support, or space. Or even boundaries.

If your storytelling practice feels heavier right now, that does not mean you are doing it wrong.

It means you are becoming more aware. And awareness is where a trauma-informed practice begins.

There’s often a moment where something shifts internally. You start to notice things you didn’t notice before. You start to question decisions you used to move through quickly, like whether every story actually needs to be shared publicly, or whether the way you’ve always gathered stories is the only way to do it.

You start to feel the impact of this work more clearly.

That moment can feel uncomfortable, but it is also an invitation.

A mid-year reset does not mean starting over. It means adjusting. Realigning. Creating a way of working that can actually support you for the long haul.

I want to offer a few simple shifts you can begin to explore. These are not about doing more. They are about creating space, clarity, and steadiness in your work.

First, revisit story readiness, not just consent.

Consent is essential, but it is not the only consideration. Story readiness asks a different question. Is this person in a place where sharing their story feels grounded, supported, and aligned for them, or are they still in the middle of something?

For example, someone might say yes to an interview because they trust your organization. But during the conversation, you notice they are still actively processing what happened. They may not yet have distance from the experience.

A trauma-informed approach allows you to pause and say, this might not be the right moment.

Mid-year is a good time to reflect on whether you are only checking for consent, or whether you are also assessing readiness.

Second, bring program staff back into the process.

If storytelling has started to feel disconnected, this is often why. Program staff hold context. They hold relationships. They understand nuance in ways that marketing teams may not always see.

I’ve seen situations where a story is drafted and shared publicly, and program staff later say this doesn’t fully reflect what that person is experiencing, or this detail could actually create risk for them.

Not because anyone intended harm, but because collaboration wasn’t built into the process.

This is a moment to re-invite program staff into story selection, review, and decision-making. Not as an extra step, but as a core part of how stories are told.

Third, check in with yourself as the storyteller.

You are part of this process too. The stories you hold impact you, whether or not you talk about it.

I’ve heard from so many storytellers who feel emotionally drained by mid-year, but assume that’s just part of the job. It doesn’t have to be.

Take a moment to notice your own capacity. Are you feeling grounded? Are you moving from one story to the next without space to process? Are there interviews that are still sitting with you?

Even something as simple as building a pause between interviews, or having a short practice to reset after a conversation, can make a difference.

A trauma-informed storytelling practice includes care for the storyteller, not as an afterthought, but as a foundation.

If you are listening to this and thinking, I don’t just need ideas, I need a way to actually build this into my work, I want you to know you don’t have to figure it out alone.

This is exactly the kind of moment the When Bearing Witness program is designed for.

Not the beginning of the year when everything feels possible, but the middle, when you are in it and need structure, support, and a place to reset.

The Summer cohort runs from June 1 through June 25, and enrollment is open now.

Over four weeks, you’ll move through the full storytelling process through a trauma-informed framework, with self-paced modules you can engage with on your own time. Alongside that, we’ll come together for two live integration calls where you can ask questions, work through real scenarios, and learn alongside fellow nonprofit storytellers who are navigating this work with the same level of care.

You’ll also have access to tools, templates, and space to reflect on your current practices so you can build systems that feel more aligned, sustainable, and grounded in care.

If that feels like what you need right now, I would love to have you there.

You can learn more and register at mariabryan.com/when-bearing-witness-program.

Mid-year is not too late to shift your approach.

In many ways, it is the perfect time. Because now you know what this work actually feels like.

And from that place, you can begin to shape it into something that supports both you and the people whose stories you hold.

I hope this gives you a place to pause, reflect, and begin again.