Human service organizations increasingly recognize the power of storytelling. Stories humanize data, illuminate system gaps, and motivate change in ways statistics alone never can. When stories come from people with lived experience, particularly those who have navigated foster care, trauma, or family separation, the impact can be profound. But storytelling is not neutral work. For the individuals who share their lives, storytelling can be vulnerable, exhausting, and destabilizing if not handled with care.
This article offers human service professionals guidance for developing the skills, habits, and organizational conditions needed to engage lived experience storytelling in ways that are ethical, trauma-informed, and genuinely supportive.
The insights that follow are shaped by the lived expertise of Titianna Goings and Mikaila Hopper, two individuals who have shared their stories repeatedly in professional, public, and advocacy settings. They are once again lending their voices to shine a light on what systems might miss when engaging individuals with contextual experience.
One Person, Many Stories
Persons with lived experience are often called on to share their perspectives in a variety of settings which begs the question: How many times have they told their story?
For many people with lived experience, there is no easy answer.
Titianna Goings estimates:
“If I had to guess, somewhere between 175 and 200 times. I started sharing my story early in life as a teenager.”
As a member of SaySo, a youth‑led advocacy organization, storytelling was embedded in her leadership role.
“Sharing parts, if not all, of my story usually went along with the duties of my role.”
Mikaila Hopper echoes the same reality:
“I can’t even guess. Honestly, I probably couldn’t tell you because the foster care experience as a whole, you can tell so many different stories from so many different angles.”
She reflects on her recent appearance on a podcast with her brother and her realization that her foster mother and her biological brother have not yet met:
“She knows my side… but she didn’t know my brother’s point of view, what it was like to come back from being deployed overseas and find your siblings in foster care.”
Then she names the core truth:
“I don’t have just one story.”
Professional skill:
Human service professionals must resist treating lived experience as a fixed narrative. Stories change as people heal, reflect, and grow. Ethical engagement begins with understanding that lived experience is expansive, contextual, and evolving, not a script to be reused on demand.
Storytelling Is a Skill—and a Muscle
The first public telling of a story is often imperfect.
When thinking about her first experience, Mikaila says plainly:
“It was a train wreck.”
Then she explains why:
“It’s like lifting a dumbbell for the first time in the gym. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
She outlines the phases professionals working with storytellers must understand:
“There’s living through the trauma. Healing from the trauma. Reflecting on the trauma. And then talking about the trauma.”
“Those are different muscles.”
Professional skill:
When you ask someone to “share their story,” you may be asking them to use a muscle that is still developing. Trauma‑informed practice requires normalizing imperfection, offering preparation, and avoiding expectations of polished delivery.
A powerful and often overlooked form of support is peer connection.
Others with lived experience can offer:
- Lived understanding of the emotional aftershocks
- Language that normalizes reactions rather than pathologizing them
- Reassurance that what the storyteller is feeling is expected and survivable
Ethical organizations intentionally build pathways for this support. This is not about outsourcing care, it is about honoring relational wisdom. Peer support does not replace professional responsibility; it strengthens it.
Feeling “Held” Makes the Difference
What sustains storytelling over time is not resilience alone—it is support.
Mikaila describes what helped her continue:
“I didn’t even realize how impactful my story was while I was telling it.”
She remembers being surrounded by colleagues who reflected its value:
“It felt like an echo chamber of people saying, ‘Thank you. We see you. This matters.’”
That reflection changed how she understood her experiences:
“All that messy, nasty stuff I lived through—it was being used for good.”
Titianna echoes that sense of importance and highlights her feelings on the absence of follow‑through:
“I was excited that “important” people that could make a change wanted to hear my story…but once the hype died down, I didn’t have that follow-up support.”
Professional skill:
Supportive organizations actively reflect meaning back to storytellers and follow through by affirming:
“This matters. You matter. What you shared made a difference.”
That affirmation is not optional—it is protective.
Ethical engagement requires those words to be reinforced through action. Follow‑through is how reflection becomes protection.
Based on the needs and the comfort level of the storyteller, that follow‑through may look like:
- A personal check‑in the day after sharing
- A follow‑up weeks later, once emotions have settled
- Asking how the storyteller is doing—not just what’s next
- Offering continued connection, resources, or space to process
When organizations circle back, they communicate something powerful:
Your worth didn’t end when the event did.
Reflection that is authentic and sustained builds trust.
Follow‑through signals respect.
And both together help ensure that storytelling is not just meaningful—but safe.
The Hidden Cost of Storytelling
Storytelling is emotionally and physically taxing.
Mikaila is clear:
“After a 10‑minute news segment or a 30‑minute speaking engagement, you might need the rest of the day off.”
Why?
“Talking about traumatic things—especially from adolescence—it does stuff to your body.”
She references what trauma science confirms:
“Your body keeps the score.”
Titianna names the emotional toll directly:
“After sharing, I’d battle feelings of anxiety, paranoia, and fear of judgment—alone.”
Professional skill:
Treat storytelling as real labor. Failure to affirm the real labor of storytelling can unintentionally mirror a storyteller’s earlier experiences of being used, studied, or extracted from, especially for individuals who have already lived under systems that documented their pain but did not stay to support their healing.
Best practice includes:
- Flexible schedules and recovery time
- Avoiding stacking emotionally demanding tasks
- Recognizing physiological stress responses as normal, not weakness
The Aftermath No Audience Sees
When an audience leaves inspired, the storyteller often remains with the aftermath.
Mikaila names the reality:
“You tell your story, and the audience goes home inspired. But I still have to live with the aftermath.”
She explains what that can include especially when your story reveals trauma inflicted by family members:
“My biological parents still watch everything I do… I still get text messages telling me to stop.”
Then the consequence:
“This is why so many victims don’t tell their stories.”
“You become that child again.”
Professional skill:
For individuals with lived experience, sharing a story can activate emotional, physical, relational, and even safety‑related consequences long after the event ends. Ethical engagement requires organizations to think beyond the moment of delivery and prepare for what comes next—with the storyteller, not on their behalf.
At minimum, this includes:
- Anticipating backlash or negative reactions
- Safety planning when there is risk of emotional, digital, or physical harm
- Leadership willingness to contextualize criticism, especially when feedback is rooted in stigma or misunderstanding
- Standing with the storyteller when harm occurs, rather than distancing or remaining neutral
Choice, Control, and Expiration Dates
Ethical storytelling centers choice.
Titianna describes what helps her feel safe:
“I need to be able to use my language—even AAVE (African-American Vernacular English ) in a professional manner.”
She also names control:
“The option to pass on topics. Being part of the editing process.”
Consent must be ongoing.
“Three months after sharing, professionals should check back in.”
Why?
“Life changes. Details change. Consent shouldn’t be assumed.”
Professional skill:
Best practice includes:
- Regular consent check‑ins
- Permission to revise or retire stories
- Never assuming past consent equals ongoing consent
Control over one’s story is foundational to dignity.
Not Every Story Is for the World
Mikaila draws a critical distinction:
“A lot of the most important work will happen behind four walls.”
She explains the difference:
“There are things I would never tell the world… but telling professionals who know how to hold it? That matters.”
Professional skill:
Organizations must clearly define:
- Public storytelling vs. protected storytelling
- Where and how stories will be shared
- Confidentiality expectations
Trust grows when people believe their stories will be contained, not consumed.
Storytelling Is Relational, Not Extractive
Titianna explains how repeated storytelling can feel familiar in an uncomfortable way:
“It reminded me of that file that followed me as a young person—with all my ‘mess’ in it.”
Because of that, reciprocity matters.
“I would appreciate knowing what’s in the ‘file’ of others in my organization.”
Mikaila affirms this:
“When leadership shares too—when they understand this—it makes you feel safe.”
Professional skill:
Storytelling should be an exchange, not extraction. Mutual humanity builds trust across roles and power differences.
When Leadership Makes the Difference
Titianna is clear about what sustained her willingness to share:
“The backing and encouragement of the director of the organization—Ms. Carmelita—is why I continue to share my story.”
Support was relational, not episodic.
“I still check in with her about opportunities.”
Processing mattered too:
“Doing roses and thorns after events made me feel seen—not just used.”
Professional skill:
Leadership presence—not just permission—creates safety.
Why This Matters
Stories change systems. They shape policy, funding, practice, and public understanding.
As Mikaila says:
“At the end of the day, I can’t write the check—but I can tell the story that helps the person who can decide where it goes.”
Titianna adds her vision:
“I don’t want stories told for pity. I want them to build healthy connections and force policies and procedures to change.”
A Final Reflection for Human Service Professionals
People with lived experience are often willing to sacrifice comfort for impact—but they should not have to sacrifice safety, dignity, or health.
The question is not:
“How do we get more stories?”
It is:
“Have we built a system worthy of the stories entrusted to us?”
When organizations learn to hold stories with care, storytelling becomes not just a tool for change—but a shared act of responsibility.