The Stories You Tell Yourself

Humans are walking, talking, overthinking bundles of narrative.

Since we first scrawled wildebeest on cave walls and called it art, we’ve been telling stories—not just around campfires, but inside our own skulls, all day, every day.

Stories are how we make sense of the chaos.
Stories are how we survive.
Stories are how we know that thunder isn’t the gods having a tantrum, but also… kind of is.

Our brains don’t just like stories.
They are wired to turn life into a Netflix series with a shaky plot but a banging soundtrack.
It’s how we figure out why things happen, what to do next and whether that noise in the bushes is a tiger or just Sheiiila from accounting on a bushwalk.

And here’s the kicker:
We don’t just tell stories about the world.
We tell stories about ourselves.
Endlessly.
Silently.
Dramatically.

And these stories?
They don’t just sit in your brain quietly like background actors in a café scene.
No.
They take centre stage, grab a mic and start belting power ballads that either lift you up or hold you hostage.

The Stories That Sneak In Dressed As Truth

Now let’s get something straight:
Not all stories are helpful.
Some are magnificent.
“I am resourceful.”
“I’m learning.”
“I can figure this out even if I don’t yet know how.”
These are Beyoncé-level beliefs. They run the world.

But then there are the sneaky ones.
The saboteurs.
The little narrative gremlins who sound like facts but behave like ex-boyfriends who text you at 2am.
They’re not here to help.
They’re here to mess things up while pretending to care.

And the problem?
You don’t realise they’re stories.
You think they’re reality.

The Six Greatest Hits From The Self-Sabotage Soundtrack

Here they are. The Billboard Top 6 Lies We Tell Ourselves When Trying to Lose Weight and Gain Sanity:

1. “I Deserve It”
A classic. Often heard after stressful days, long weeks or surviving a conversation with your passive-aggressive aunt.
It says, “You’ve worked hard, so eat the thing.”
It forgets to mention that you also deserve a future you’re proud of.
Rewards are great.
Just… maybe not the kind that leave you feeling like regret in stretchy pants.

2. “It’s Too Hard”
This one enters stage left with a dramatic sigh and a fainting couch.
It wants you to believe you’re not built for this.
That change is reserved for other people with less messy lives and more matching activewear.
But here’s the truth:
Yes, it’s hard.
AND you can do hard things.
Start small. Progress doesn’t need a drum roll—just a bit of momentum.

3. “I Don’t Have Time”
Time’s a slippery bastard, isn’t it?
This story thrives on the myth that you need three uninterrupted hours, candles and a life coach named Sven to get started.
But guess what?
Change fits into five-minute windows.
Between emails.
In traffic.
While hiding in the pantry from your children.
It’s not about finding time. It’s about making it.

4. “I’ve Ruined It Now; May As Well Keep Going”
Also known as the “Screw It Spiral.”
You had one biscuit, so obviously, the only rational response is to eat seventeen more and start fresh on Monday.
Except... no.
One blip doesn’t cancel the whole journey.
You didn’t ruin anything.
You just lived.
Reset. Don’t restart.

5. “I’ll Start Again on Monday”
This one wears a halo and carries a planner.
It sounds so reasonable.
Like Monday is the magical day where motivation flows and kale tastes good.
But Monday is just a day.
And waiting for it is like delaying joy until Mercury’s in retrograde and you’ve cleared your inbox.
Start now.
Badly if you must.
But now.

6. “It Will Never Work”
Ah, the pre-emptive breakup.
Before you even begin, your brain’s like, “Babe, let’s not. You know how this ends.”
But here’s the thing:
This story is old.
It’s tired.
And it’s wrong.
It can work.
But only if you stop assuming failure is inevitable.
You’re not psychic.
You’re just scared.
(And that’s okay. Do it anyway.)

Rewrite or Repeat

Here’s the big plot twist:
You’re the author.
The director.
The scriptwriter.
You even control the lighting and the emotional soundtrack.

Every single one of those stories?
You can challenge them.
Rewrite them.
Choose a new line.

Instead of: “I’ve ruined it now.”
Try: “That wasn’t ideal, but I’m still moving forward.”

Instead of: “It’s too hard.”
Try: “It’s hard… and I’m doing it anyway.”

You don’t need to swing from self-doubt to toxic positivity.
You just need to shift the story by one degree.
Small rewrite. Big ripple.

Finale: Curtain Call

So.
Start noticing the stories you’re running.
Are they helping you climb the mountain?
Or are they tying your shoelaces together while whispering, “You’re probably not fit for hiking anyway”?

Because those little thoughts?
They’re not harmless.
They’re architects.
They build the scaffolding of your reality.
And over time, they either hold you up—or keep you stuck.

So grab a metaphorical red pen and start editing.
Your story isn’t finished.
The next chapter?
Could be brilliant.

Especially if you’re the one writing it.