What is the Story You are Telling Yourself?

Why the narrative you carry forward matters more than what happened

Last week, I had three conversations with people who had each been laid off. Though the circumstances were very different, the emotional experience was almost identical. They were grieving the loss, and each of them began to turn that experience inward.

These were people who, just days earlier, had been operating at a high level. They were leading teams, making decisions, and talking to customers. They went from full calendars, clear purpose, and key goals to silence. The rhythm to their days suspended in mid-air, held in a kind of stasis as everything around them seemed to move on without them. They went from knowing where they fit in that symphony and now inexplicably playing to an empty room.

When I asked each of them what story they were telling themselves about what had happened, the answers were strikingly similar, even though the situations themselves were not. They weren’t talking about strategy shifts or leadership changes or broader market dynamics. They were talking about themselves, about what they must have missed, what they should have done differently, how they could have prevented it.

It was as if they were trying to take something inherently uncertain and make it feel explainable by turning it into a personal failure.

There is something comforting, in a strange way, about believing that if something went wrong, it must have been within your control. Because if it was within your control, then maybe next time, you can avoid it or fix it.

But that isn’t always what’s true.

How the story affects our actions

Years ago, while I was working with my coach Katia, there was one question she asked me over and over again, often at moments when I was most certain I understood what had happened.

“What is the story you’re telling yourself?”

At the time, it felt almost too simple, like it couldn’t possibly get at the complexity of what I was dealing with. But over time, I realized that the question wasn’t about simplifying the situation. It was about separating what actually happened from the guilt and regret I had layered on top of it.

Those two things are not the same. In moments like this, the meaning we assign can be far more powerful than the event itself. The narrative stood between me and the objective reality, and it colored every reaction and respond I had.

Fighting the wrong war

Someone I trusted introduced me to a product manager they described as “exceptional”. This PM had thrived in their previous role, had strong recommendations, and seemed like exactly the kind of person we would want to bring into the company. I had her brought in for an interview with a team that was focused on her space.

After reading the negative feedback, I requested to interview this person myself. And the interaction was so different from what I expected, so much so that it was almost disorienting. She was guarded, defensive, even at times combative. The conversation felt less like an exchange of ideas than someone who was trying to figure out if I was going to accidentally screw her.

I couldn’t reconcile it with everything I had heard from her reference. Afterward, I followed up with the referrer to understand what I was missing. It turns out that she had just exited a difficult situation with their previous manager. Her trust was shaken and she was trying to avoid being in the same situation again. While that is understandable, her approach to the interviews was a response to the story she was telling herself.

What was protective in one context became limiting in another. She was telling herself that she needed to protect herself, which ended up costing her an incredible opportunity. By fighting the last war, she could not move forward.

How stories become walls and walls become barriers

When something difficult happens, whether it’s a layoff, a broken relationship with a manager, or a moment where things didn’t go the way we expected, we don’t just move on from the event itself. We build a story around it, one that helps us make sense of what happened, and then we carry that story forward into everything that comes next.

It then becomes the reality of what happened. We start showing up based on that reality. Others start reacting to that behavior which then reinforces the story we told. Gradually over time, the story becomes the truth.

There is a difference between learning from an experience and letting it dominate your point of view. Seeing the blind spots for what they are and rewriting the story allows us to break free.

Rewrite the narrative

For those who recently were laid off, they were living in bewilderment and confusion. For a long time, their careers in tech felt relatively predictable. If you perform well, you grow your career. You advanced and got promoted. There was an implicit belief that things would continue to move forward in a way that was, if not guaranteed, at least directionally consistent. There was stability. That assumption is breaking down.

To make sense of what happened, they each looked inward. They were plagued with “If onlys…” but I asked them to rewrite the story. What if there was nothing they could have done? What if it happened that they were unlucky to be on the project that was cut?

I asked them each to tell me, “What is the story you’re telling yourself?” And each wondered if they could have tried harder or done more. They consider whether they have failed in some way. Perhaps, but perhaps it was truly out of their control, but approaching the path forward with disappointment and anxiety would not make their journey easier.

I asked them to accept what happened as a stumbling block, but to leverage it as a stepping stone to the future. By reframing, it gave them a new way of retelling the story so that they could look forward not back, and would prevent them from fighting the last war.

I wanted them to show up to the next interview without a sense of desperation and fear, but with confidence and assurance of their value. In small and subtle ways, the way they show up would reflect the story they were telling.

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If you are stuck, learn to rewrite the story.

1. Write down the story you are telling yourself. Explain what happened both good and bad in a single sitting. Don’t edit or try to optimize. Just get the words out. Tell the story of what happened, including what you did or others did. Consider the actors and what they mean. If possible, consider describing to someone in a video or transcript so it comes more naturally.

2. Read or listen to what you wrote. What was the crux of the story? What feelings did it evoke? Most people notice patterns when they do this. The story is not neutral. It has a point of view, judgement, and conclusions. Right or wrong, it is real.

3. Rewrite it without judgement. What if you shifted the ending to focus away from blame and on learning? What would the story tell you?

The story you tell yourself doesn’t just describe what happened. It determines what you do next and how others perceive you.

You may not be able to change what happened, but you can change the story you carry forward and the actions you take from there. And sometimes, that’s the one thing you need to free you to move forward.