We all carry stories. Some are empowering. Others quietly sabotage our progress, whispering old fears into new moments.

Many of these internal narratives began in childhood — in homes where we weren’t protected, supported, or seen the way we needed to be. When caregivers weren’t able to provide stability, attunement, or emotional safety, we became the ones who had to adapt. And those adaptations became our stories.

Take Sam, a smart, sensitive client who constantly felt responsible for fixing the failures of others—especially people in authority. If his boss forgot to prep for a meeting or left out key information, Sam panicked and jumped into action. He’d rewrite agendas, anticipate everyone’s needs, and work late making sure things didn’t fall apart.

Why?

Because deep down, Sam believed:
“If they mess up, I’ll be in trouble.”

That voice wasn’t rational — it was old. As a child, Sam’s caregivers offloaded their adult responsibilities onto him. He was expected to cook meals, care for siblings, manage chaos. If things didn’t go well, he was punished — not the adults. His nervous system learned that safety meant staying ahead of the next failure.

This is what unhealed stories do.

They hijack your attention.
They distort the present.
They create urgency where none exists.
They convince you that your job is to make others OK, so that you can finally be OK.

But here’s the truth:

You were never the problem.

Those who were meant to nurture you simply didn’t have the tools.
You survived the best way you knew how.
And those coping strategies? They were brilliant. They kept you safe.

But now, they may be holding you back.

If you’re ready to challenge your own inner narrative, here’s a process to try:

  1. Notice the inner voice.
    What story is playing on repeat?
    (e.g. “If I don’t fix this, I’ll be in trouble.”)

  2. How do you feel when you believe it’s true?
    What happens in your body? Do you tense up? Withdraw? Over-function?

  3. Does the feeling feel familiar?
    Not just the situation — the emotional tone of it. Is it old?

  4. Trace it back.
    Can you remember feeling this way as a child? What was happening then?

  5. See the truth.
    Could that child have done anything differently?
    Was it really their job to manage the situation? Or were they simply doing their best?

  6. Let them off the hook.
    Offer that younger version of yourself love, compassion, and truth:

“You were never the adult in the room.
It wasn’t your fault. You did your best.”

  1. If it feels supportive, write a few words to the people from that time.
    Let your adult self speak truth to the situation.
    (Even if you never send it.)

When we see how our inner narrative was formed — not by truth, but by survival — we reclaim our ability to choose differently.

You’re not failing. You’re not flawed.
You’re waking up.
And now that you can see the pattern, you can shift how you respond, what you carry, and what you no longer need to carry.

Let’s go back to Sam.

Now that he understands where his old story came from, he’s no longer run by it.
He no longer feels the pressure to over function or “save the day” at work.

Instead of reacting with panic when someone drops the ball, he pauses.
He reminds himself:

“This isn’t mine to fix.”
“They are capable adults.”
“I can let them figure it out.”

And then… he gets back to his work.
With more clarity. More space. More peace.

This is what happens when you challenge the inner narrative.
You make new choices — based on reality, not fear.
You return to your rightful self-leadership.

Are you ready to change your inner narrative? 🌸