Why Your Brain Thinks You’re the Villain

And How to Rewrite the Script

Have you ever noticed that your brain is basically Netflix on shuffle?

One minute, it’s playing an inspirational drama: “You’re destined for greatness!” The next, it’s a horror flick: “You sent that email to the wrong person, and now your career is over.” And sometimes it’s pure slapstick: “You just tripped in public. Again.”

Psychologists call this ongoing production your self-narrative. I call it the little screenwriter in your head who’s been working unpaid overtime since childhood and who apparently never went to film school.

The truth is, every one of us is living inside a story. Not the ones we post on Instagram, but the invisible stories that shape our identity, our choices, and even our sense of worth.

Why Stories Matter (Yes, Even the Embarrassing Ones)

Here’s the thing: the stories that shape us don’t just reflect reality. They create it.

If your inner story says, “I’m not enough,” you’ll find proof of inadequacy everywhere: in your boss’s critique, in your friend forgetting to text back, in that one sock that always goes missing in the dryer. (Seriously, where do they go?)

But if your story says, “I’m resilient. I’m growing,” then those same experiences become evidence of strength. The sock isn’t a tragedy; it’s proof that you can adapt. (And buy mismatched socks.)

Donald Miller, the bestselling author of Building a StoryBrand, told me, “If you confuse, you lose.” He was discussing businesses, but the same principle applies to life. If your story is cluttered with fear, comparison, or expectations you never chose, you lose clarity. And when you lose clarity, you lose direction.

That’s why getting clear on your story isn’t just nice self-help fluff. It’s survival.

Where Do These Stories Come From?

Ah, the origin story. Every superhero has one. So do you.

Maybe you were “the responsible one.” Maybe you were “the troublemaker.” Maybe you were “the kid who couldn’t catch a ball if it were the size of a beach balloon.” (That one’s mine.)

When I was in the Navy, my story for a long time was, “Don’t screw up.” It sounds motivating, but it actually made me more tentative. Every decision felt like walking a tightrope. Eventually, I realized: you can’t lead well if your story is just about avoiding mistakes.

Later, in the corporate world, my story became: “Blend in.” You laugh, but that’s easy to do in Fortune 50 boardrooms. Wear the right suit. Say the right words. Don’t challenge the playbook too much. But blending in almost erased me. It took years, and a few big risks, to realize that standing out, not fitting in, was the better story to live.

And here’s the kicker: even today, my podcasting story sometimes sounds like: “Technology hates me.” (Because yes, I’ve absolutely done the thing where you hit record, pour your soul out for an hour… and realize you never actually pressed record. Oops.)

The point is, we all carry scripts. Some serve us. Some don’t. And the good news is: we get to revise them.

Bo Eason, a former NFL player turned master storyteller, shared with me something I’ll never forget: “Your origin story is the most powerful thing you own. But you have to tell it truthfully or the world will tell it for you.”

And he’s right. Those early scripts still echo today. The question is whether you’re letting them define you or whether you’re choosing to reinterpret them.

The S.T.O.R.Y. Framework (Because Acronyms Make Everything More Official)

After years of studying how people live, lead, and sometimes crash spectacularly, I began to notice patterns in the stories we tell ourselves. Out of that came the S.T.O.R.Y. framework.

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