We’re making up stories many times a day, every day, about what other people are thinking, why something happened, what’s going to happen next, and what it means about us.
If someone doesn’t respond to your proposal and you decide they thought it was too expensive.
Three people unsubscribe after an email, and you think, Crap, I’m annoying people.
You promote something, and enrollment doesn’t happen as quickly as you expected, so obviously nobody wants it, and your audience is tired of hearing from you.
Or you see somebody in your industry seemingly blowing up and decide you’re behind and should probably be doing what she’s doing.
But none of those things are facts. They’re stories you made up.
So if you’re going to make up a story anyway, why not make up one that feels better?
Maybe the person who hasn’t responded to your proposal got slammed this week and hasn’t even looked at it yet. Maybe those three unsubscribes are people who aren’t a match and are making room for the people who are. Maybe a quieter enrollment doesn’t mean people don’t want what you’re offering. You just haven’t found the message that makes the right people lean in yet… or they’re getting their finances together to enroll.
The tricky part is that some of our stories have been repeated so many times, we’ve forgotten that we made them up in the first place.
“I suck at follow-up.”
“My audience is too small.”
“People aren’t spending right now.”
“I’m inconsistent.”
“I’m terrible at tech.”
“I can’t charge that much.”
“I have to work really hard to make good moola.”
We say these things like they’re facts about ourselves or the world. Then we start collecting evidence to prove them true. Every no becomes proof that people aren’t spending. Every unanswered email proves people aren’t interested. Every slow week proves something isn’t working.
Meanwhile, we can have evidence of the exact opposite sitting right in front of us and barely notice it.
I caught myself making up a whole bunch of crap during our recent Super-Synced launch.
I really wanted to record a down & dirty CliffsNotes version of one of my masterclasses because I knew a lot of people couldn’t attend live. We don’t do replays; the content was really useful, and I knew people would love having the shortened version.
But there was no room in our promo schedule for another email. I didn’t have time to edit my slides and record another training. And I was also telling myself, I don’t want to send another email and annoy people.
It just felt like too freaking much on my plate.
So I let myself off the hook. I decided I didn’t have to record it. I didn’t have to squeeze it into the schedule. I didn’t have to decide whether sending another email was right or wrong. I could just NOT do it.
Ahhhhhhh.
Once I felt the relief of not having to do anything, I stopped being attached to whether the training happened or not. I decided I’d just do what felt good.
Literally an hour later, I thought, I have time. I want to do this right now.
So I did. I recorded it, and we sent it out.
Nothing about my schedule had magically changed in that hour. My story had changed. And once I wasn’t pushing against something I thought I had to do, I could actually feel into what I wanted to do.
Sometimes the better story isn’t even about convincing yourself that something fabulous is going to happen. Sometimes you just need a story that gives you relief.
I learned that in a much bigger way last year when our son was in the hospital for 45 days.
We had so many loving people giving us advice about supplements, treatments, resources, and things that might help him. I was incredibly grateful for it, but I also started telling myself that I needed to follow up on every single suggestion.
Because what if I didn’t?!
What if the one thing I didn’t investigate was the thing that could help him thrive and get well?
You can imagine how freaking stressful that story became.
I finally realized I couldn’t keep doing that to myself. I needed a new story, and the one I chose was:
Our son is well no matter what we do or don’t do.
Whatever we choose to do to support him is what he needs. I don’t have to chase down every possibility in order for him to be well.
That story gave me relief when I desperately needed it.
And THAT is what I want you to pay attention to with the stories you’re telling yourself.
You don’t need to take “Nobody wants what I’m offering” and replace it with “EVERYONE IS DYING TO WORK WITH ME!”
Your brain might call bullshit on that one. 😂
Just catch yourself when you’re stating a story as if it’s a fact and ask yourself, Do I actually know this is true?
Two people said no this week is a fact.
But… Nobody wants what I’m offering is a story.
Someone didn’t respond to your email is a fact.
They’re not interested is a story.
Your launch didn’t bring in as many people as you wanted is a fact.
This isn’t working is a story.
Once you separate what actually happened from what you’ve decided it means, you get to choose what you want to make up next.
Maybe it’s, “Two people said no. That tells me absolutely nothing about the next person I talk to.”
Maybe it’s, “There are a hundred reasons she may not have responded yet.”
Maybe it’s, “I don’t have to figure this out right now.”
Or one of my personal favorites:
This doesn’t have to mean anything.
You’re probably never going to stop making up stories. I sure as hell haven’t.
But you CAN start noticing which ones make you feel like crap, stressed, behind, scared, or like you need to force something to happen.
Then make up something better.
What story are you telling right now that you’ve mistaken for the truth?
And what could you make up instead that gives you some freaking relief?