The subtle stories you live inside

Hello,

And happy Halloween weekend to all who celebrate 🎃

Personally, I’m a big fan! I love anything that gives us an excuse to dress up and try on a new personality for the night. Whether you go ‘sexy cat’ or ‘blood-covered gremlin’ (no judgment, I’ve been both), you get to wear something new, switch up your hair, throw on some makeup — and for one night, get to be seen as something different.

Halloween gives us collective permission to experiment, to step outside of the roles we normally play and become someone else, even if only for a few hours.

And as much as I love it, we shouldn’t need Halloween to do that. I wish it were easier for us to wake up one day and decide to shift the roles we’ve been playing in our own lives. To be a little braver, softer, bolder, freer, and have it actually stick (for more than a couple of days).

Which leads nicely to this week’s theme. How we CAN make those real-life shifts and changes a little easier - using a tool we all have at our disposal but rarely use - our stories. Those we unknowingly live inside, that are quietly shaping what we believe is (and isn’t) possible.

Stories like:

• “If I change my career now, I’ll have wasted all that time.”

• “You can’t want wealth and still be a good person.”

• “If I’m the emotionally evolved one, I can fix the dynamic.”

Stories cosplaying as fact.

But the beautiful thing is, once you see them, you can start to rewrite them. You can decide when a story has served its purpose and start creating space for a new one to begin.

Now, show of hands…

Who is currently stumbling their way through some sort of transition?

It might have been sparked by something external, like changing careers or the end of a relationship. Or it could be an internal shake-up; you’ve started questioning the things you used to believe in, about the world, how it works, and your place within it.

Either way, you’re in a position where life is asking for change, and you’re in that middle bit where the old has fallen away, but whatever comes next still isn’t clear.

These seasons of liminality are HARD. They require deep trust in yourself, but also in something greater than you. They’re the worst and also so so necessary. All my favourite life shifts have sat on the other side of moments like this, and having spent a lot of time existing in this in-between bit, I can tell you from experience: you can definitely make these seasons easier or harder for yourself.

Option 1 - the hard route. You fight it, trying to use force and distractions to ignore the calls for change, desperately clinging to the outdated story you once knew. I can tell you now, you don’t win. You still end up at wherever it is you’re being pulled towards, it just takes a lot longer, and you end up with a lot more bumps and bruises.

Option 2 - the easier route. You surrender to the stream, wherever you’re being pushed, and instead of trying to control the direction (which you can’t), you control the story you tell about the experience. This change could be the worst thing that’s happened to you, or the best, that is the bit you get to decide.

And so we’re back to stories, our focus for today.

You know the drill: go sort out your cozy setup. Make a drink, grab your journal, maybe a duvet and a little background music too. Honour and carve out this time for you.

As always, I have a lesson, 3 (+1) questions and a dare for you.

[A LESSON]

If you’ve been here a while, you’ll have heard me say this before… our identity isn’t just who we are, it’s a collection of the stories we tell about who we are.

Psychologists call this narrative identity theory, and it’s basically the idea that we make sense of our lives by turning them into stories, complete with characters, settings, conflicts, and turning points. We edit and re-edit those stories over time to give our lives coherence, meaning, and direction.

Dan McAdams, one of the leading researchers in this space, found that people who tell “redemptive stories” - ones where they make meaning from pain and see growth or transformation on the other side - tend to live happier, more resilient, and purpose-driven lives. In contrast, people who get stuck in contamination stories - where good events turn bad or setbacks confirm a sense of powerlessness- often feel trapped, hopeless, and less capable of change.

What’s wild is that these aren’t stories we consciously craft; we’re often completely unaware of them. They’re stories we’ve inherited from family, culture, religion, or past versions of ourselves, trying to make sense of things. They live under the surface, subtly shaping how we experience the world. They decide whether we interpret ‘not getting the job’ as “proof I’m not good enough” or “a plot twist I’ll learn from.”

They even start to shape our biology; your nervous system literally reacts differently depending on the story your brain tells about what’s happening. That’s why the same event can feel empowering for one person and devastating for another. The difference isn’t what happened, but the story being told about it. It’s subtle, but that shift in storytelling can change everything about how a transition feels.

And life transitions can be hard, but they’re also where our stories get rewritten.

They’re the moments when the old narrative no longer fits, and we’re left in that messy middle, trying to figure out what comes next. But instead of closing your eyes and desperately trying to rush into the next chapter, these are the moments you have the opportunity to write it.

That’s where awareness comes in. Once you start noticing the stories you’re currently telling, the ones quietly narrating how you see yourself, what you think you deserve, what you believe is possible, you get to decide whether they’re actually serving you anymore.

You can begin asking:

• What story am I telling about this transition?

• Who told it to me first?

• What story would make this season feel more hopeful, more meaningful, more me?

When you choose to tell a different story, you don’t erase the hard parts. You just give them context, and in that context, meaning. That’s what helps the chaos start to feel coherent again.

So if you’re in that middle bit right now, try this: stop fighting to “figure it out,” and start listening to the story you’ve been living inside. The story you’re telling yourself about this season of life. Because once you see it, you can start to reimagine it, not as an ending, but as the beginning of a new chapter you actually want to live.

And that’s where you start to take your power back.

[3 QUESTIONS ]

1. Think of a defining moment in your life so far. What would it look like to “try on” different stories about it? 

   For example, a breakup could be seen as: The failure that proves I’m unlucky in love OR a necessary ending that made room for growth. How does each version feel, and which story supports where you’re going next?

2. What story about “how your life is supposed to go” are you unconsciously performing? And who actually wrote it? Your culture, parents, a past self?

3. If your life had background music right now, what genre/vibe would it be? And what story does that soundtrack support?

BONUS QUESTION

4. Who/What benefits from you keeping your current story?

[A DARE]

This week,

I dare you to take your story into your own hands. Write the next chapter of your life, starting with the sentence:

“And this was the moment everything changed…”

Don’t overthink it. Let it flow. It could be dramatic, messy, funny, even a little unrealistic.

The point isn’t to predict the future perfectly; it’s to give yourself permission to author the next part of your story, even if it’s just on the page for today. Notice how it feels to imagine a new possibility, and how different that feels from being stuck in the old narrative you’ve been living inside.

I’ll be doing it too, so if you show me yours, I’ll show you mine ;) Just hit reply, and we can start to write these next chapters together.

I’m excited.

See you on a Sunday,

L