The Stories We Tell Ourselves — Are They Helping or Holding Us Back?

The Power of Our Inner Narrative

Have you ever caught yourself repeating the same thought—“I’m not good at this,” “It’s too late for me,” or “I’ve never been creative”—without questioning where it came from?

These self-messages become mantras, often playing on a loop beneath our awareness. They shape our beliefs, actions, and self-worth, dictating what we believe is possible for ourselves.

Some of these stories are empowering—reminders of adaptability, perseverance, and past successes. But too often, they limit us, reinforcing fears, doubts, and insecurities that keep us from stepping into new opportunities.

The good news? The stories we tell ourselves are not set in stone. Like any story, they can be rewritten. But first, we need to recognize where they come from.

Parallels to My Fiction

I didn’t plan to explore limiting beliefs when I created the five main characters in my Women of the Canyon series. I crafted them as powerful, successful women with a strong link to their heritage and ancestors. Each carries wisdom, knowledge, and the ability to carve their path.

But as I write more about reinvention in later life here on Life’s Threads, I realize how much unspoken personal narratives shape my characters—especially Val.

Val grew up on a farm in Washington state, where she learned the value of hard work and responsibility. Nursing was a respectable and much-needed profession and a natural path for her. She dedicated her life to caring for others, always sure of her purpose. But that certainty crumbled when she retired and moved to Echo Canyon, leaving behind everything she knew.

Now, she’s adrift, struggling to find her place in a new chapter of life.

Why is that?

She has resources, time, and an interest in gardening—a hobby that could bring her joy. Yet, something holds her back.

Is it grief? Fear of starting over? Or is it a story she has carried with her for years—one that whispers that purpose must be tied to productivity, that her value was in her role as a nurse, and that without it, she is lost?

How many of us have told ourselves a version of that same story?

The Origins of Our Inner Stories

I’m no psychologist, but after living for seven decades and working with thousands of people, I’ve learned to recognize how powerful—and sometimes detrimental—personal narratives can be.

Most of these stories don’t start with us. They come from childhood messages, past failures, societal expectations, or the comparisons we make of others. Over time, these narratives build up until we unconsciously adopt them as truth.

I grew up in the 1950s and ’60s and hate to blame my mother for any of this, but there were rules—especially for women. Going to college to become a teacher was acceptable, but other ambitions? Not so much. I longed for different experiences but knew they weren’t appropriate or realistic.

And because I didn’t know how to challenge those assumptions, they became my truth. “That’s just how things are.”

So, I missed out on a lot.

Even though things are improving, we still see this happening today. Girls are told they aren’t good at math or science, so they assume careers in technology, finance, or engineering are out of reach. Aspiring artists convince themselves they lack talent before they’ve ever picked up a brush. Older adults believe it’s too late to start something new because the world favors the young.

These stories feel real, but that doesn’t mean they are.

What Does This Mean for Val?

Val’s struggle isn’t just about retirement—it’s about identity. For decades, she knew who she was: a nurse, a wife, a caregiver. But when her husband died in the pandemic of 2045 and her career ended, those identities slipped away.

She tells herself, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

But is that true?

What if she finds a way to unburden herself instead of being lost? What if she allows herself the freedom to explore instead of searching for the answer?

Maybe Val’s story doesn’t have to be about loss. Perhaps it’s about reinvention.

And maybe that’s true for all of us.

How to Recognize a Limiting Story

Not all personal narratives are harmful, but the ones that hold us back tend to follow a pattern. Listen closely to your language and inner dialogue to recognize a limiting belief.

A limiting story often:

• Starts with absolutes: Always, never, too late, not meant for me.

• Stops you from trying new things: If something makes you hesitate, it’s worth questioning.

• Echoes someone else’s doubts: Often, these stories aren’t even our own. They come from family, teachers, society, or past experiences.

For decades, I believed I couldn’t be a writer because my 10th-grade English teacher told me so. It wasn’t just a critique of my work but a declaration I internalized as truth. “I’m not a writer.” And because I believed that story, I didn’t challenge it for 55 years.

What stories have you been carrying that aren’t true?

Rewrite the Script: Choose a New Narrative

The best part about stories? They can change by reframing limiting beliefs into empowering ones.

• Shift from “I’m too old to start”

  • → “My life experience gives me a unique perspective.”

• Shift from “I don’t have time”

  • → “I choose what I prioritize.”

• Shift from “I’m not creative”

  • → “Creativity comes in many forms, and I’m still discovering mine.”

Actionable Steps to Change Your Story

1. Challenge the thought – Ask yourself, “Is this always true? Where did I learn it?”

2. Gather counter-evidence – Think of moments that contradict the belief.

3. Rewrite the narrative – Instead of saying, “I’m not a writer,” reframe it: “I enjoy storytelling, and my voice matters.”

Example: A woman in her 60s once told me she wasn’t “tech-savvy” and could never run an online business. But when she reframed that thought—“I can learn new things, and I’ve navigated plenty of changes before”—she took an online course, built a website, and now runs a thriving business from home.

Her story didn’t change because of luck. It changed because she chose to rewrite her next chapter.

The Role of Community in Changing Our Stories

We must not do this alone.

This is something Val is beginning to realize.

Since moving to Echo Canyon, she has struggled to find her place. But the women around her—Raven, Skylar, and Riley—see more in her than she sees in herself. Through their friendship, she is beginning to let go of the old story that she has nothing to offer.

Who in your life challenges your limiting stories—and how can you do the same for someone else?

We are not bound by the stories we inherit; we can rewrite them at any time.

What story are you ready to change today?