The Story I Almost Told Myself

Have you ever noticed how quickly your mind fills in the blanks when you do not have all the information?

Someone does not answer your text. Your spouse seems quieter than usual. A family member says, "I'm fine," but something feels off.

Before long, your mind has created an entire explanation. You decide what the silence means, imagine what the other person is thinking, and predict what will happen next. Then, when you finally learn the truth, you discover that none of the story you created was real.

That is what I have been thinking about lately—the stories we tell ourselves before we know what is actually happening.

When Assumptions Become Stories

Our minds do not like unanswered questions. When something feels unclear, we naturally try to make sense of it.

Someone does not respond to a message, and at first you think, They're probably busy. As more time passes, that thought changes to, Did I say something wrong? Before long, you have convinced yourself that something has changed between you.

Then the person finally replies, "Sorry. My phone died."

That was the entire explanation.

Meanwhile, you may have spent hours reacting emotionally to something that never happened.

The truth is, we do not only respond to events—we respond to what we believe those events mean. Our past experiences, fears, expectations, and insecurities all influence the stories we create.

Ask Before Assuming

Marriage has taught me this lesson more than once.

Jim and I have been together for more than thirty years, but that does not mean we always know what the other person is thinking.

There are days when Jim comes home from work quieter than usual, and my mind immediately begins searching for a reason.

Is he upset?

Did something happen?

Did I do something wrong?

Then I simply ask if everything is okay, and he replies, "Yes. I'm just tired."

That is it. The man simply had a long day.

If I had reacted to the story in my mind instead of asking the question, I could have created tension where there was none.

One simple question has the power to prevent countless misunderstandings:

"This is what I heard. Is that what you meant?"

Sometimes the answer is no. The other person may have had no idea their words sounded the way they did.

Sometimes the answer is yes.

Either way, you are responding to reality instead of reacting to your imagination.

Fear Can Write the Ending Too Soon

Being a caregiver has shown me another side of this lesson.

When someone you love has experienced real medical challenges, you naturally become more aware. You notice changes in behavior, energy, and symptoms because those details truly matter.

The challenge is that awareness can easily become anxiety.

One symptom appears, and suddenly your mind begins imagining every possible outcome.

I have learned to stop and ask myself one simple question:

"What do I actually know right now?"

Not what I fear could happen.

Not what happened years ago.

Not what I just read on the internet.

What do I know right now?

That question brings me back to the present.

It does not mean ignoring my instincts or avoiding medical care. It simply reminds me to gather information before allowing fear to write the ending.

The View Depends on Where You Are Sitting

One of my favorite examples of perspective comes from riding on the motorcycle with Jim.

We are riding the same motorcycle on the same road at the exact same time, yet we are experiencing two completely different rides.

Jim is watching traffic, road conditions, curves, potholes, and anything that could affect our safety.

I am admiring the mountains, old barns, streams, tree-covered roads, and little towns we pass along the way.

Same motorcycle.

Same road.

Different view.

I may notice something beautiful that Jim never sees. Jim may notice a danger I never knew existed.

Neither one of us has the complete picture alone.

Life works the same way.

Someone else may see something from their perspective that we cannot see from ours. Listening to another perspective does not require us to abandon our own. Sometimes it simply gives us more information.

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

Some of the strongest stories we create are not about other people—they are about ourselves.

We tell ourselves things like:

When we repeat those thoughts often enough, they begin to sound like facts.

But are they facts?

Or are they simply old beliefs we have never questioned?

Starting Live Intentionally Now has challenged some of my own stories.

Who am I to write a blog?

Who am I to start a podcast?

Will anyone listen?

Do I know enough?

The truth is, I do not have all the answers.

But that was never the goal.

I am not sharing because I have reached the finish line. I am sharing because I believe there is value in learning together.

I have experiences.

You have experiences.

I have a perspective.

You have a perspective.

Perhaps something I share will help you see your life differently. Perhaps something you share will help me see what I could not see from where I was standing.

That is the kind of community I hope we build together.

Pause Before Believing the Story

Our minds will always create stories. That is part of being human.

The goal is not to stop thinking. The goal is to recognize when a thought has quietly become a conclusion.

Before reacting, pause and ask yourself:

Not every story we tell ourselves is false. Sometimes our instincts are absolutely right.

However, every story deserves to be examined before we build our emotions, decisions, and relationships around it.

I am working on becoming more curious before becoming certain.

I want to ask before assuming, listen before defending, and leave room for other people to explain what I may not be able to see.

Most of all, I want to leave room for myself to grow beyond the stories I have believed about who I am and what I can become.

So let me leave you with one final question:

What story have you been telling yourself lately?

What do you actually know?

And what part did your mind write on its own?

Your feelings are real, but your assumptions are not always facts.

Sometimes, the greatest gift we can give ourselves is the willingness to pause, ask one more question, and allow the truth to unfold before we decide how the story ends.

Until next time, stay curious, ask the question, and give yourself—and the people around you—the grace to explain.

Pause. Learn. Reach. Teach.

fears and personal growth.