The Stories We Still Believe

We don’t just remember the past—we unknowingly bring it with us into the present

We make up stories to explain what happened in our lives.
And then we assume those stories apply to every situation that looks even slightly similar.

We generalize.
We make it all mean the same thing—about us—no matter what’s actually happening now.
No matter how capable we are in this moment.

We ignore nuance.
We assume.

But those stories?
They’re not even real.

They’re just explanations our mind created—often long ago—
to make sense of what happened,
and what we thought it meant about us.

And the stories that hurt the most…
are usually the ones we made as little people—
children who had no way to survive except by adapting
to what was right in front of us.

We had to make up stories.
We had to figure out what we needed to do—to believe—to get love,
acceptance, belonging.
Our survival depended on it.

But why do we keep doing it now?

I understand why we did it then.
But why can’t we recognize the stories for what they are now?

Why don’t we see that this moment is different?
That it doesn’t mean what it used to mean?
Why are we still so blind to that?

Maybe we’re only blind until we pause long enough to look.

Maybe awareness is the beginning of rewriting the story.

I don’t have the answers.
But I’m starting to notice the difference between what’s actually happening now—
and what I once believed it meant.

Part of healing is seeing that the story isn’t true and allowing ourselves to stop believing it.

If you enjoyed reading this, please ❤️. It helps others find it. Thank you! 🤗