The Story We Choose to Tell

I’ve rewritten this week’s post four times.

Every time, my ideas drift into something they’re not. I read a few weeks ago that humans naturally love dramatic narratives, and my past week validates that.

Three years ago, I was working a job that made my life miserable. I woke up every day tired, dreading work—even after a full night’s sleep. At the office, all I heard were colleagues complaining about the pressure they were under. The environment was toxic—managers constantly tried to one-up each other, and I was caught in the crossfire. One time my manager forgot to discuss a task until the last minute; instead of saying, “I’m sorry, I forgot—can you help me out?” he sent a rude after-hours email ordering me to “do the task” because “it needs to be done today.” Worst of all, the work wasn’t what I really wanted, and I couldn’t see how the experience would ever matter.

Two years ago, I worked at a school. I loved every moment with the children. Whenever they burst into my office to share how well they played at football practice or how their teacher did something funny in class, I felt like a proud older brother. I helped plan and run student activities, and I enjoyed every second. Seeing them laugh made me feel whole. I even got into videography so I could turn their activities into short-form content and show the world how much fun they had. The role wasn’t exactly what I pictured for my future, but I learned invaluable soft skills—and, most importantly, responsibility.

Now, what if I told you those two stories describe the same place and the exact same role? Would you believe it? I certainly wouldn’t—but they do.

My point?

When I focus on the negative moments at the school, I feel sorry for myself. When I remember the impact I had on the children, I feel prouder than ever.

Every story is like that. We control the narrative. Each thought we entertain becomes a story we tell, and the way we frame it determines how it shapes us.

So before you finish writing the story in your mind, pause—choose the meaning you need, and then shape your story to serve it.