The Stories We Tell Ourselves
Have you ever walked out of a conversation feeling great...only to spend the next three days convincing yourself it actually went terribly?
Maybe it was a job interview. You left feeling confident. You connected with the interviewer. You answered the questions thoughtfully. You even made each other laugh. Then twenty-four hours pass. Nothing. Suddenly your brain gets to work. I talked too much. I should've answered that question differently. They probably found someone more qualified. Maybe I wasn't what they were looking for. By the time your phone finally rings, you've replayed the interview so many times that you've forgotten how good it actually felt while you were in the room.
Or maybe it's someone you just met. The conversation flowed effortlessly. Hours passed without either of you noticing. You laughed. You felt seen. You walked away thinking, That felt different. Then… Silence.
And before you know it, your mind has become an award-winning screenwriter. Maybe they're busy. Maybe they're overwhelmed. Maybe they met someone else. Maybe I came on too strong. Maybe I wasn't enough.
Here's the fascinating part. None of those stories are facts. They're simply possibilities. Yet our brains have an amazing ability to circle the most painful possibility and quietly label it, Truth.
Why? Because our minds are wired to fill in the blanks. Uncertainty is uncomfortable, so we rush to create certainty, even if the certainty we create hurts us.
I've started to notice that the situations creating the most anxiety in my life are rarely the situations themselves. They are the stories I tell myself while I'm waiting. Waiting for an answer. Waiting for a phone call. Waiting for clarity. Waiting for someone else's decision. It finally hit me one day that the waiting isn't what exhausts me. The storytelling is.
What if, instead of assuming we know what someone else is thinking, we simply admitted the truth? I don't know. Those three words can be surprisingly freeing. Maybe they loved the interview. Maybe they're still making a decision. Maybe their child got sick. Maybe they're overwhelmed at work. Maybe they're not interested.
The truth is, until someone tells you what they're thinking, you simply don't know. Everything else is speculation. Some of those stories may eventually prove to be true, but many won't. The problem isn't that our brains generate possibilities. The problem is that we often choose the most painful possibility and treat it like a certainty.
And while you're busy trying to become an expert on someone else's thoughts, you miss the opportunity to become curious about your own.
Lately, when I catch myself writing stories, I've started asking a different question. Not, "What are they thinking?" But…
What am I learning about myself?
Am I proud of how I showed up?
Was I authentic?
Did I honor my values?
Did I enjoy the conversation?
What did I discover about myself that I didn't know before?
Because those answers belong to me. Everything else belongs to someone else.
The stories we tell ourselves have incredible power. They can convince us we're being rejected when we're simply waiting. They can make us feel inadequate when nothing has actually happened.
Or… They can remind us that uncertainty is not the problem. The meaning we assign to uncertainty is. The next time you find yourself filling in the blanks, pause for a moment.
Ask yourself:
Am I responding to facts...or am I responding to a story?
Sometimes my answers surprise me.
I learned that I showed up authentically.
I learned that I handled an uncomfortable conversation with kindness.
I learned that I'm braver than I gave myself credit for.
I learn that I can enjoy a meaningful connection without knowing where it will lead.
Those are things no one else's response can take away from me.
Sometimes the kindest thing we can do for ourselves is leave the ending unwritten until the truth has a chance to arrive. Maybe the story you're waiting for isn't about whether someone chooses you. Maybe it's about discovering who you become while you wait. Because every time you choose curiosity over assumptions, compassion over criticism, and truth over imagination, you're not just changing the story you're telling yourself. You're changing the person who gets to live it.
Reflection: Where in your life are you responding to a story instead of the facts?
