The Story You’re Telling Yourself Is a Lie (And It’s Costing You Everything)
You have a story about yourself.
It’s been with you so long you don’t even recognise it as a story anymore. It just feels like truth. Like the way things are.
“I’m not the kind of person who…”
“I’ve always been someone who…”
“People like me don’t…”
These aren’t observations. They are stories. And they are running your entire life.
The story about why you can’t ask for what you want. The story about why that opportunity isn’t for you. The story about why you have to work twice as hard to deserve half as much.
The story that sounds like humility but functions like a cage.
Here’s what I’ve learned working with professionals who seem to have it all together: everyone is operating from a story they decided was true about themselves years ago, often decades ago, and they’ve been collecting evidence for it ever since.
“I’m not a naturally confident person.” So you avoid situations that would require you to act confidently, which confirms you’re not confident, which reinforces the story.
“I’m bad with money.” So you don’t learn about it, don’t pay attention to it, make decisions from anxiety rather than strategy, which keeps you bad with money, which proves the story true.
“I’m just not leadership material.” So you don’t speak up, don’t put yourself forward, don’t develop the skills, which means you don’t get leadership opportunities, which validates that you were right all along.
The story becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.
And the really insidious part? The story protects you from disappointment. If you’re “not that kind of person,” then you don’t have to try. You don’t have to risk failing. You don’t have to face the possibility that maybe you could have had that thing if you’d been brave enough to reach for it.
The story keeps you small. But it also keeps you safe.
Until one day, you realise safe isn’t enough anymore.
I watch this moment happen in sessions all the time. Someone is mid-sentence, explaining why they can’t do something, when they stop. Pause. And say, “Wait. Is that actually true? Or is that just what I’ve always told myself?”
That question changes everything.
Because once you see the story as a story and not as immutable truth, you can start asking different questions.
Where did this story come from? Who gave it to you? What was happening in your life when you decided it was true? And most importantly: is it still serving you?
Usually the story came from somewhere legitimate. A parent who compared you to a sibling. A teacher who misunderstood your processing style. A failure that felt so devastating you decided never to risk that kind of exposure again.
The story made sense at the time. It protected you. It helped you navigate a situation where you had limited power and even more limited options.
But you’re not that person anymore.
You have different resources now. Different skills. Different choices. Different levels of agency.
And yet you’re still operating from that old story like it’s some kind of unchangeable fact about who you are.
It’s not.
You are not your story. You are the person capable of choosing a different story.
So what story are you telling yourself that’s no longer true?
What would become possible if you stopped believing it?
What would you try if you weren’t confined by this narrative you’ve been repeating for so long you forgot you made it up?
You get to rewrite it. You get to test whether it’s actually true or just familiar.
And that’s terrifying. Because familiar feels safe even when it’s limiting.
But on the other side of that terror? There’s a version of you that isn’t constrained by old stories. That gets to find out what you’re actually capable of when you stop deciding in advance what you’re not.
That’s worth the discomfort.
