There are some days when my life feels like one big story, with me as the main character. I can hear the narration in my head as I move through the day.

And just when I thought I’d finally be happy...

Can you believe someone did this to me? Poor, poor me!...

Have you ever noticed the stories in your head?

The ones we tell ourselves.

The ones we share with others.

You might be wondering what I mean by “stories.”

I’m talking about the explanations we come up with to make sense of what’s happening around us.
Why other people do what they do.
Why we do what we do.

Each of us tries to make sense of what’s happening around us—and especially to us—by telling ourselves a story. This story helps us interpret our experiences, and it often includes who we believe we are, what role we play in our family or the world, and how we expect to be treated.

For example, imagine someone who sees themselves as “the unlucky one” or even “cursed.” When something bad happens—big or small—they immediately explain it through that lens. If they spill their coffee or miss a bus, they think, Of course this happened to me. Stuff like this always happens to me. I’m the unlucky one.

Even when something positive happens, like winning a prize or getting a great grade, they tell themselves, This must be a fluke. This kind of thing doesn’t really happen to me. It doesn’t fit my life.

Now imagine someone else who sees themselves as confident, or as someone who always has a reason to feel proud. That same spilled coffee or bird dropping lands on their head, and their story is, No big deal. This stuff happens to everyone. I’m still doing great. So what.

And when good things happen for them? They think, Of course I won. I knew I had to take that chance. I trusted myself. I made that happen.

The events are often the same. But the meaning we give them, and the story we attach them to, can be completely different.

We all do it. We explain things to ourselves as if we’re uncovering the truth.
But the truth is, much of what we’re telling ourselves isn’t fact. It’s a story.

And a lot of that story is made up.
Not intentionally, not maliciously. Just made up from our imaginations.

It usually starts with a small kernel of truth.
Something real, something that happened.
But then we build on it. We fill in the gaps.
We add meaning, motives, judgment, and predictions.
And before we know it, we’ve built an entire narrative around a single event.

That might be hard to hear.
No one likes to be told that they’re making things up.
But the truth is, we all are because we’re human.
And our brains are meaning-making machines.

So here’s something I’ve been trying, and maybe you want to try it too.

Next time you find yourself deep in a story- and you’ll know you are in a story when you catch yourself venting, going over and over about what someone did to you or a mistake you made, and you just can’t seem to let it go.    Pause for a moment.

Tell yourself: Right now, something is going on - I am caught up in my story and breathe.

Now ask yourself: What is the one part of this story I know is true?
Not from my perspective. Not from emotion or memory or fear.
But something that is simply true. A fact. A small, clear piece of reality.

Maybe the truth is that you got into a fender bender.
And the rest—the part where you tell yourself that you’re a nincompoop, or that this always happens to you-is the story.

Maybe someone treated you unkindly.
That’s real. But the part where you decide they’re a terrible person who will never change?
That’s the story.

The more we can separate the truth from the story, the more clarity we have.
The more choices we have.
And maybe even the more compassion we can bring to ourselves and to others.

Just something to sit with.
I know I am.