Narrative therapy helps people build empowerment and a positive identity.

What does narrative therapy aim to foster in individuals?

• A. A disempowerment in their identities
• B. Emotional distress through storytelling
• C. Empowerment and a positive identity
• D. A reliance on the therapist's interpretation

Answer: (C)

Narrative therapy is a therapeutic approach that emphasizes the importance of the stories individuals tell about their lives. It acknowledges that people construct their identities through narratives and that these narratives can influence their sense of self and wellbeing. The primary aim of narrative therapy is to empower individuals by helping them to re-author their life stories in ways that reflect their values, strengths, and experiences, thereby fostering a more positive identity. By encouraging clients to explore and articulate their personal narratives, narrative therapy supports them in recognizing their agency and developing a sense of ownership over their stories. This process often leads to increased self-esteem and a more constructive perception of challenges, ultimately contributing to personal empowerment. In contrast, the other options do not align with the goals of narrative therapy. The approach explicitly seeks to avoid disempowering identities or increasing emotional distress, and it encourages autonomy rather than dependency on the therapist's interpretation.

Narrative Therapy: Rewriting the Story You Carry

Let me ask you something: when you wake up in the morning, which voice in your head gets to narrate your day—the one that’s harsh and loud, or the one that reminds you of tiny wins and hidden strengths? The stories we tell about our lives don’t just describe what happened; they shape who we believe we are. That’s the heart of narrative therapy: it treats our life stories as malleable plots, not fixed scripts.

What is narrative therapy, really?

At its core, narrative therapy is a way of looking at mental health through the lens of stories. People don’t just have problems; they live within stories about who they are, how they fit in the world, and what it means to be seen or heard. In this approach, the therapist and client team up to examine these stories—where they came from, who benefits from them, and how they influence choices, emotions, and relationships.

This isn’t about labeling someone as “problem-saturated.” It’s about noticing that some chapters might keep a person stuck, while others hold potential for a richer, more hopeful plot. Think of it as a collaborative storytelling project where the client is the author, and the therapist is a kind of editor, offering gentle questions, alternative angles, and inviting spaces to try on new endings.

The aim: empowerment and a positive identity

Here’s the thing about narrative therapy: the aim is empowerment and a positive identity. That’s the direction, not a detour. When people see themselves as capable authors of their own lives, they often experience a surge in self-worth and agency. They start to recognize that identity isn’t handed down by a single event or by the opinions of others; it’s something they can shape with intention.

Why is this so important? Because when someone feels empowered, everyday challenges start to feel more like puzzles to solve rather than verdicts that define them. A person who once saw themselves as “the anxious type” can begin to notice moments when anxiety is just a signal, not a ruler. A person who felt defined by a past mistake can begin to reframe that error as a scene in a larger, more resilient narrative. The result isn’t pretending everything’s perfect; it’s choosing a narrative that fits values, strengths, and lived experience.

If you’ve ever tried to tell a story from a different perspective—making a personal victory out of a setback or reframing a relationship conflict as a moment of learning—you’ve touched the essence of this approach. It’s less about erasing pain and more about giving yourself a different lens to interpret it. It’s about ownership: the idea that you’re not just a character in someone else’s chapter of your life—you’re the author of your next chapter.

How does it work in real life? A practical tour

Narrative therapy isn’t a mysterious art; it’s a set of concrete, gentle techniques that invite re-authoring without pressure. Here are some key moves you’ll often see in sessions:

• Externalizing the problem. Instead of “I am depressed,” you might hear, “the depression is voices in my head that keep pulling me down.” The problem becomes something apart from the person, something that can be addressed. It’s a clean way to reduce self-blame and create space for action.

• Exploring influence. Therapists ask whose voices and stories have shaped the current narrative. Family stories, cultural scripts, media portrayals—all of these can act as co-authors, sometimes to our detriment, sometimes to our benefit. The goal is to identify which scripts serve the person today.

• Mapping the effects. Where does this story show up? In work, in friendships, in the way someone negotiates time for self-care? Noticing these effects helps reveal the real scope of the story and where small changes could ripple outward.

• Highlighting unique outcomes. Even in tough patches, there are moments that don’t fit the old story, moments that show resistance, creativity, or courage. Naming these “unique outcomes” helps rebuild a sense of competence.

• Re-authoring the narrative. This is the heart of the work: testing out new storylines that honor values, strengths, and hopes. It’s not about pretending bad things didn’t happen; it’s about integrating them into a bigger, more accurate, more hopeful life story.

• Writing to an audience. Sometimes clients write letters to people involved in the story or to their future selves. This act of writing invites reflection, accountability, and a clear sense of who the protagonist is—today and tomorrow.

• Creating a new plot through small steps. A new chapter doesn’t have to be dramatic. It can be a small daily decision—taking a walk after dinner, reaching out to a friend, setting a tiny boundary—that signals a new storyline is underway.

A little tangent that lands back home

If you’re listening in on this and thinking, “That sounds nice, but how does it feel in practice?” you’re not alone. There’s a human rhythm to this work. Imagine a storyteller sitting with you in a sunlit room, listening more than predicting, inviting you to test different endings rather than prescribing one perfect arc. And yes, therapists bring their own experiences to the table, too, but the aim isn’t to overwrite your voice with theirs. It’s to co-create, to offer options, to remind you that you can choose your path.

Why narrative therapy matters in everyday life

The beauty of this approach is its everyday relevance. It doesn’t demand fancy tools or a perfect mood. It works best when you’re curious about your own story and willing to experiment with language. That might sound a bit soft, but there’s real strength behind it: stories guide behavior. Change the story, and behavior often shifts in the same direction.

Take resilience, for example. When you view resilience as a trait someone has or hasn’t, you might overlook the moments that reveal it. When you view resilience as a skill you practice—reframing, seeking support, trying new strategies—you begin to notice opportunities to act differently next time.

Cultural and social threads matter, too. Our narratives aren’t formed in a vacuum. They’re woven from family history, community norms, and even the stories we absorb through books, films, and social media. Narrative therapy invites us to examine those threads: Which voices are we letting be the loudest in our story? Which ones do we want to amplify? In a world full of competing scripts, choosing a story that honors your values can be a quiet act of resistance and self-care.

A quick guide for students exploring these ideas

If you’re studying this approach and want to keep the concepts clear in your notes (and in your future work with clients), here are a few touchpoints to hold onto:

• The central aim: empowerment and a positive identity. The focus is on helping people see themselves as capable agents in their own lives.

• The big moves: externalize the problem, map its effects, uncover unique outcomes, and re-author the life story.

• The language matters. Small wording changes can shift how a person experiences themselves. “I am anxious” versus “the anxiety is a thing I’m dealing with” can open space for action.

• The client remains the author. The therapist collaborates, questions, and reflects, but the client always keeps ownership of the narrative.

• Small steps, big impact. A few new phrases, a handful of new routines, or a simple letter to a future self can begin a lasting shift.

• Sense-making in context. Culture, relationships, and environment aren’t background noise; they’re active players in how stories unfold.

A few quick reflections you can carry into a session (or a study session)

• Start by naming the story you’re living in. What’s the dominant plot? What would you call it in one sentence?

• Identify a scene where you felt a different version of yourself. What did you do? Who were you with? How did it feel?

• Draft a brief “new ending” or alternative scene. What values are guiding this version?

• Ask: whose voice is missing in this narrative? How might including that voice alter the story?

• Consider a tiny, concrete action you can take in the next week to support the new storyline. A walk, a coffee with an old friend, a boundary you’ll try.

Putting it all together: the lived value of narrative work

In the end, narrative therapy is not about erasing pain or pretending everything is fine. It’s about reclaiming authorship of your life, honoring your experiences, and choosing a path that aligns with who you want to become. It’s about recognizing you’re not bound to a single, unchangeable portrait. You’re allowed to revise, to reframe, to welcome a more hopeful identity into your daily life.

If you’re navigating the world of mental health approaches or guiding others through their own stories, you’ll notice something familiar: healing often begins with a shift in perspective, not a total overhaul of reality. A slight tilt in the lens—toward empowerment, toward a positive sense of self—can open up space for courage, curiosity, and healthier choices.

A closing nudge, then: consider your own story for a moment. Where might you externalize a challenge you’ve been carrying? What small, doable step could tilt your plot toward a more resilient ending? Narrative therapy invites you to try, to test, to see what happens when you give yourself permission to edit with care.

If you’re a student or professional curious about how this approach sits within the broader field of mental health, you’ll likely notice its quiet strength: it respects the person at the center of the story, invites collaboration, and foregrounds autonomy. It’s not about a single technique doing all the work; it’s about a relationship that honors your voice as the key instrument of change. And isn’t that the kind of change that lasts? A story you want to keep telling, again and again, with honesty, courage, and a bit of hopeful humor.

In short, narrative therapy aims to empower you and help you develop a positive identity. It’s a practice of listening, reflecting, and co-creating—an invitation to rewrite the chapters that feel stuck and to step into a story where you’re the author who carries, with clarity and care, your own truth.