top of page

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

Writer's picture: Sorilbran StoneSorilbran Stone

Last week, I found myself deep in SEO content—reading articles, watching videos, and generally catching up on strategies I hadn’t revisited in a while. As I sifted through updates and insights, I started reflecting on how I’ve responded to shifts in the SEO landscape over the years.


Whenever our website traffic dropped—whether from a core update or algorithm tweak—I’d immediately internalize it. What did I do wrong? What if I lose my job? Maybe I’m just not good at this. Those thoughts always crept in, and I accepted them as truth without question.

It wasn’t until last week, while reading about how everyone in the SEO world braces for updates and scrambles to adapt, that I realized my panic wasn’t unique. Nobody has the secret sauce for SEO. You can piece together patterns, gather insights, and prepare as best you can, but there’s no magic bullet. Drops in traffic aren’t always a reflection of failure; sometimes they’re just part of the game.


And yet, for years, I had convinced myself that every dip in traffic was my fault—that it was evidence of incompetence, of me being not quite enough.


The Shame Beneath the Story

That realization hit hard, but not just because of SEO. It struck me how deeply this narrative—this idea that I’m doing it wrong—had rooted itself in my life.


I started thinking back to relationships, to moments where I misread signals or held back because I was too afraid of getting it wrong. That same fear, that same shame, had sabotaged me there too. Relationships I didn’t fully invest in because I didn’t believe they would last. Times I pulled away because deep down, I believed I was disposable.


Looking back, I can see how this narrative has colored so much of my life. It’s like a black streak in watercolors, bleeding into everything it touches. Shame turns bright yellows into olive greens, reds into burgundy, whites into gray. It changes how you see the world—and how you see yourself.


Inspecting the Narrative

The truth is, that story of shame didn’t just show up one day. It started forming in my mind decades ago, and I’ve been carrying it ever since. And unless I’m diligent about inspecting my thoughts—really looking at what I’m feeling and asking why—that shame can spill into every part of my life.


I’ve spent 43 years battling this belief that I’m easy to replace, that I’m somehow less than. And when I’m not careful, I let that story tell me who I am. I let it rewrite my perception of myself and my capacity.


But here’s what I’m learning: we don’t have to accept the stories life tells us. We get to decide the narrative.


Becoming the Narrator

One of my biggest takeaways from this past year is that we have to be active participants in crafting our own narratives. If we’re not intentional, life—along with its bad memories, failures, and shame—will hand us a version of ourselves that isn’t even true.


When we let those stories go unchecked, they shape everything—our confidence, our relationships, our ability to move forward and accomplish what we’re called to do. The stories we tell ourselves matter. They define the quality of our lives and the paths we’re able to walk.


So, I’m learning to ask myself: What’s the story I’m telling here? Is it true? Is it helpful? Is it mine?


Because we don’t have to accept every narrative that crosses our minds. We can challenge the ones that don’t serve us. We can write better stories about who we are and where we’re going.


And maybe, just maybe, we can finally step into the fullness of who we were always meant to be.

1 view0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


© 2023-2025 by Sorilbran. Well-earned shoutout to Wix  💯

bottom of page