By Matt Sandoval | Thoughts on Innovation
Many people become mentors because of what they survived.
That’s not a flaw in the system; it’s often the source of their compassion, their staying power, their ability to see a young person clearly. But it’s also a risk. The very experiences that draw us to this work can flood the room if we don’t learn how to carry them differently.
At Free Arts Arizona, we serve young people who have experienced abuse, neglect, and family disruption. We value connection through arts-based programming. Many of our volunteers come to us precisely because they recognize something in our mission.
They’ve been there. They know what it’s like and they want to help.
This National Mentoring Month, I want to offer a framework we’ve adopted over years of training staff, mentors, and artists: take the lesson, leave the story. This framework is inspired by the wisdom of Miller at thankyoumiller.com
The Room Before Training Begins
Picture a room full of people drawn to mentoring work. Many carry their own histories of difficulty. Some histories are close to the surface; others are buried deep. Two patterns emerge almost every time.
Some arrive ready to disclose. The room feels safe. The mission resonates. The impulse to share is genuine. Others arrive with heightened sensitivity because their own history makes them more vulnerable to being flooded by others’ stories.
Both responses make sense. Both require care. They both point to a tension at the heart of trauma-informed mentoring: how do we bring the wisdom of our experience without setting down its full weight in front of people who may not be ready to hold it?
The Lesson vs. The Story
“Take the lesson, leave the story” is not about silencing yourself. It’s not “get over it” or “your story doesn’t matter.” The story is yours. It happened. It’s real. Pretending otherwise compounds the suffering.
The framework is about context and an interpersonal container. There are spaces for your full story: therapy, trusted relationships, support groups, your own writing or art. A mentoring session with a young person isn’t that space. Neither is a training room full of people at different places on their own journeys.
In practice, it’s the difference between saying “I know what it’s like to feel unseen” versus offering a detailed account of every time you were unseen and by whom. Both are true. Only one serves the room.
The key insight is this: you may be at a place to carry your story, but your audience may not be at the same place. That’s true for the young people we serve and for the adults working alongside us.
From Story to Toolkit
Here’s where the framework goes deeper than simple boundaries.
One risk a person may face is fusing with a single story: “I am what happened to me.” Another risk is extracting a single lesson and closing the book: “I learned X, I’m past it.” Neither perspective alone serves you or the people you mentor very well over time.
The opportunity is more expansive. You have many stories, and each story contains multiple lessons. A story of being unfairly treated might also be a story of endurance, of developing a justice orientation, of becoming someone who notices what others miss.
The move is both/and: the story is held, not denied, and the lessons are formed that stand alongside it, now portable, and now lighter to carry. You are more than your narratives. Among the multitude of stories in your life is a hidden wholeness that can be discovered. And the people you mentor can feel that.
Over time, I’ve learned to internally draw what is needed in the present moment to show up authentically. The lessons become a toolkit: not a fixed identity, but resources available for connection, for showing up, for being genuinely useful to someone else. This is empathy as a toolkit, not empathy as flooding.
An Invitation
You don’t have to start with the story that shaped everything. Almost any difficulty, including a frustrating day, a misunderstanding, or a small loss, can reveal what you value and what you’re committed to doing about it.
Start small. Notice: “That bothered me because I value ” and “I responded by .” Build muscle with smaller stories. Learn your own pattern. See what you reach for, what you protect, and what you move toward. Those patterns are a protective form of love for yourself and others.
Then when you hold a bigger story, you’re not doing it for the first time. You’ve practiced finding the lesson without being swallowed by the telling.
Try it out loud or on paper: “This happened to me AND I became someone who __.” Feel the difference in weight.
The next time you feel the pull to share your story in a space that can’t hold it, ask: what lesson does this moment need? What can I offer without setting down the full weight?
This isn’t about hiding. It’s about caring both for your own story, and for the room you’re in.
This National Mentoring Month, as we celebrate the power of mentoring relationships, let’s also honor the complexity mentors carry. Your experiences matter. Your wisdom matters. With the right framework, you can bring both into the room without losing yourself or overwhelming the person you’re there to serve.
Editor’s Note: Matt Sandoval is CEO of Free Arts Arizona, a nonprofit providing arts-based programming for children and families impacted by abuse, neglect, and homelessness.
