The Stories We Tell Ourselves

The most powerful stories aren’t the ones we read in books or watch on screens—they’re the ones we tell ourselves about who we are, what we’re capable of, and what’s possible for our lives.

Let’s begin with a confession: I used to believe I wasn’t the kind of person who took risks. Not the thrilling, cliff-diving, adrenaline-chasing sort of risks (heaven forbid—I like my cappuccino served in a cup, not mid-skydive), but the quieter, scarier ones. The kind that ask you to question who you are and, worse, who you've always believed yourself to be.

We all have these private narratives. We don’t talk about them at dinner parties or post them on Instagram (though I suppose some people do—bravely captioned beneath a filtered sunset). No, these are the stories that run quietly in the background of our lives, like old jazz standards playing in a distant room. Familiar. Comfortable. Easy to ignore. But powerful enough to direct the entire show.

Mine went something like this: I’m not a risk-taker. I like safe bets. I don’t do bold.

It was a lovely little story—tidy, self-contained, impossible to disprove as long as I never tried anything bold in the first place. Which, of course, I didn’t.

Until one day I did. Not because I’d been hit by some divine lightning bolt of courage (if only self-actualization came with a thunderclap). No. I simply started asking a different question: What if the story I’m telling myself isn’t true?

What if the only thing separating me from the life I wanted was a line of dialogue I’d grown too used to repeating?

It’s funny how we assume the stories we tell ourselves are facts. We’re too old. Or too young. Too early. Too late. We’re not ready. Not qualified. Not that kind of person. We assume success is a private members’ club and someone else holds the guest list. We believe that boldness belongs to the brave, brilliance to the gifted, freedom to the lucky.

And so we stay put. Not because we’re stuck, but because we’ve convinced ourselves that we are.

But here’s the magic trick no one tells you: the moment you question the story, you loosen its grip. The moment you dare to rewrite even a single line—I am a risk-taker—you shift the plot entirely.

Now, I’m not here to suggest you become someone you’re not. Quite the opposite. This isn’t about pretending. It’s about remembering. It’s about peeling back the layers of “I can’t” and “I’m not” until you get to the part where you ask, What if I already am?

Because words matter. Especially the ones you whisper to yourself when no one else is listening.

Change the words, and you change the action. Change the action, and you change the outcome. Change enough outcomes, and suddenly—poof—you’ve changed your entire life.

So, here’s your invitation:
What’s one story you’ve been telling yourself that’s holding you back?
What if you challenged it?
What if, just for today, you gave yourself a better line? A stronger narrative?
What if you flipped the script

Resources to Help You Rewrite Your Story:

  • The Big Leap by Gay Hendricks – A deep dive into the self-imposed limits we create and how to break through them.

  • Mindset by Carol Dweck – The science behind why what we believe about ourselves matters more than we think.

  • You Are a Badass by Jen Sincero – A fun, no-nonsense guide to shifting your mindset and stepping into a bigger version of yourself.

What’s one story you’re ready to rewrite?

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