(Because I’m tired of my own inner BS)
I suspect I’m not alone here, but there’s a tiny, persistent narrator in my head.
She’s quite unkind, rarely accurate, and the queen of negative self-talk.
She spins tales about what I should be doing by now, how I should be feeling, and where I should be in life.
According to her, I’m always behind, always lacking, and never quite “there” yet.
(And if I do happen to be “there” in an area of my life, I certainly don’t deserve it.)
It’s all very well to say “don’t listen” to the evil narrator. Easier said than done – that bitch’s voice is loud.
I want her silenced.
Because the stories we tell ourselves matter more than we realise. The stories we tell ourselves literally become our lives.
And some of my stories? They’ve expired. They’ve gone stale. They’re long overdue for a rewrite.
Here are some of the worst offenders in my brain at the moment.
1. “This is just who I am now.”
Translation: I’ve stopped trying.
This one usually shows up when I’ve been stuck for a while … stuck in habits, stuck in patterns, stuck in fatigue.
“Oh, I’m not a morning person – I can’t get up early” … “I’m hopeless with money” … “I don’t have discipline”.
But just because something’s familiar doesn’t mean it’s permanent.
I am not cement. I’m clay. I’m still shaping, still becoming, still figuring it out.
This is who I am right now … and that’s allowed to change.
2. “If I was really meant to do it, I would’ve done it by now.”
This one hits like a full-weighted punch to the ambition.
It sneaks in when I think about big dreams that haven’t happened yet … the book I haven’t written (it WILL happen), the career shift I haven’t made, the risks I didn’t take.
But it’s a total lie. Maybe I wasn’t ready. Maybe I needed more healing, more clarity, more chaos to clear.
Maybe the version of me who had the dream wasn’t the version of me who could actually pull it off.
And that’s okay.
Delayed doesn’t mean denied.
It doesn’t mean I failed. It means I’m still in progress.
Still gathering wisdom, courage, audacity.
The timeline I imagined isn’t a deadline. It’s just a sketch.
And I’m allowed to redraw it.
3. “I should just be grateful.”
Ah yes, the guilt-wrapped gaslight we give ourselves.
You know the one:
“I have a roof over my head and food on my table. I have a happy, healthy family. Just shut up and be grateful.”
Gratitude is powerful. But it’s not a gag order.
I can be thankful and want more. I can love parts of my life and still crave change.
They are not mutually exclusive.
4. “It’s selfish to want more.”
This one sounds reasonable on the surface. Don’t be greedy. Just be grateful. Other people have it worse.
But dig a little deeper, and it’s pure negative self-talk in a responsible adult disguise.
More peace. More space. More autonomy. More joy. More money, even.
I don’t want everything, I just want to stop settling.
But the voice that says “you’re selfish for wanting more” isn’t wise. It’s scared.
It’s been trained to shrink. To play small. To stay safe and quiet and agreeable.
Wanting more isn’t selfish.
It’s self-aware.
It’s brave.
Because “just be grateful” is sometimes code for don’t rock the boat.
And I don’t want to sail someone else’s sea anymore.
5. “If I just lose X-kg, life will finally fall into place.”
We’ve all made this bargain. That once I drop the weight, everything else will align … confidence, clarity, self-worth, sexiness.
But I’ve weighed less and still felt like shit about myself.
Because the weight was never really the problem.
It’s the shame. The hustle. The belief that I need to shrink to be worthy.
I’m letting that belief go.
Rewriting the negative self-talk script
I don’t have the energy for these old narratives anymore.
They’ve been holding the pen for too long, and they’re terrible storytellers.
So I’m starting again.
With curiosity instead of criticism.
With grace instead of guilt.
With a whole lot of “this might be messy, but I’m doing it anyway.”
If you’ve got a few tired stories or negative self-talk whispering in your head, consider this your permission slip to let them go. Rewrite them. Burn them. Laugh at them.
Because you’re not behind. You’re not broken. And you’re definitely not alone.
Em x