What If That Isn't True?
Welcome back to Running to Myself. I’m your host, Trisha Stanton.
Whether you are aware of it or not, your brain is always filtering information.
In the most general terms, we can divide those filters into positive and negative lenses. Some people naturally notice what's working. Others naturally notice what's wrong.
But there are also more specific filters that all of us carry.
One of the filters I often notice having a significant impact is one we'll call LIMITS.
We all live within certain limits.
Some of them we're aware of.
Some of them we're not.
Some are real limitations. Such as:
There really are only twenty four hours in a day. And Gravity is still doing its thing. Also, None of us can actually be in two places at once no matter how torn we feel.
But many of the limits that shape our lives most significantly aren't external at all.
They're internal.
They're conclusions we've made about ourselves.
Ideas we've carried so long that we've stopped questioning them.
Stories that have become identities.
I've been thinking recently about some of the limits that I have been filtering ideas about myself through without even realizing their impact.
And as I started paying attention, I realized something.
Many of my limits come from the labels I carry.
I’m not the only one. This comes up all the time in coaching.
A woman tells me she feels stuck.
She can't put her finger on exactly why.
But she feels frustrated.
Maybe she thinks her circumstances are holding her back.
Maybe she believes the people around her are the problem.
Maybe she thinks she's waiting for the right opportunity.
But then as we begin examining what's actually happening, we often discover something surprising.
The thing holding her back isn't her circumstances.
It isn't her family.
It isn't her job.
It isn't her age.
It's a label.
A label she's carrying about herself.
Without realizing it, every decision is being filtered through that label.
And the label is creating the very life she doesn't want.
And then she is shocked when I tell her that I think that's great news.
Seriously.
That surprises people when I say this, but I love discovering that the problem is coming from my own thinking.
At first, most people hate that idea.
They don't want something to be their fault.
For years I didn't either.
But then I realized something that changed my mind:
If it's my fault, I have the power to fix it.
If the problem is entirely outside of me, I have to wait.
I have to wait for someone else to change.
I have to wait for circumstances to improve.
I have to wait for life to cooperate.
But if my thinking is involved?
Now I have options.
Now I have influence.
Now I can choose something different.
I find that to be incredibly empowering.
It’s not that we blame ourselves.
It’s that we stop giving away our power.
There's a big difference.
And the more I’ve coached about this and examined it in my own life the more I have come to believe that labels are one of the sneakiest ways we give our power away.
Because labels often feel true.
And once they feel true, we stop examining them.
We stop questioning them.
We stop gathering evidence against them.
Instead, we begin building our lives around them.
Let me give you an example.
Before I started running, I had a very clear label.
I was not athletic.
More specifically, I was not a runner.
That wasn't something I occasionally thought.
It was part of my identity.
It was simply who I believed I was.
Now if you're wondering how I managed to train for and run a marathon while believing I wasn't a runner, you'll have to go back and listen to Episode One.
But here's the funny thing.
Eventually I started seeing myself as a runner.
How could I not?
I'd run marathons.
I'd trained for years.
I'd put in the miles.
At some point the evidence became overwhelming.
But even then, I kept another label.
I still didn't consider myself an athlete.
I saw myself as uncoordinated.
Awkward.
Not naturally athletic.
And honestly, if you've ever watched me attempt certain sports, you might understand why.
But lately I've been reexamining that label.
Because what if the issue isn't that I'm inherently unathletic?
What if the issue is that I simply never learned certain skills?
What if the issue isn't inability?
What if it's instruction?
What if it's practice?
What if it's repetition?
Muscles can be trained.
Skills can be developed.
Limits can be questioned.
And that realization got me wondering:
What other labels am I carrying?
What other assumptions have I accepted without examination?
What other limits have quietly become part of my identity?
And what about you:
What labels are you carrying?
Take a minute and think about that.
Not the labels other people give you.
The labels you've accepted.
The labels you've repeated often enough that they feel like facts.
Here are some of the ones I hear most often:
I'm shy.
I'm not good with people.
I'm too emotional.
I'm not confident.
I've always struggled with consistency.
I'm just an anxious person.
I'm not smart enough.
I'm too old.
I'm too young.
I'm not the kind of person who can do that.
Notice how many of those sound like facts.
But are they facts?
Or are they conclusions?
There is a difference.
A fact is something observable. It can be proven.
A conclusion is the meaning we've attached to the facts.
And our brains are often very good at confusing the two.
If I told you I missed three workouts this month, that's a fact.
If I told you I'm not disciplined, that's a conclusion. It’s the meaning I’m creating from the fact that I missed 3 workouts.
If I told you I get nervous speaking in front of groups, that's a fact.
If I told you I'm not confident, that's a conclusion. I’m creating meaning from a neutral fact.
The problem is that once we accept the conclusion, we stop looking for alternative explanations.
We stop looking for evidence that contradicts it.
Instead, we begin collecting proof.
Our brain becomes a prosecutor building a case.
And because our brain is always filtering information, it becomes very good at finding evidence that supports the label.
If I believe I'm not disciplined, every mistake becomes proof.
Every missed workout becomes proof.
Every forgotten task becomes proof.
And all the evidence that points the other direction gets ignored.
The years of showing up.
The responsibilities I've handled.
The commitments I've kept.
The people I've cared for.
The difficult things I've accomplished.
Those don't count.
Because they don't fit the story.
The label wins.
This is why labels are so powerful.
They carry so much weight that they determine what evidence gets admitted into the courtroom.
So how do we begin breaking through these limits?
I want to give you four practical steps.
Step One: Identify the Label
Grab a piece of paper.
Complete this sentence:
"I am the kind of person who..."
Write down every answer that comes to mind.
Don't edit.
Don't judge.
Just write.
You might be surprised by what shows up.
Step Two: Ask Where It Came From
Who taught you this?
When did you first start believing it?
Was it a teacher?
A parent?
A coach?
A sibling?
A painful experience?
Or was it simply a conclusion you reached as a child trying to make sense of the world?
Many of our labels are decades old.
And yet we're still living as though they're current.
Step Three: Look for Contradictory Evidence
Do not skip this step, no matter how uncomfortable you feel about it at first.
If your label is "I'm not disciplined," find evidence that you are.
If your label is "I'm not brave," find evidence that you are.
If your label is "I'm not a leader," find evidence that you are.
You don't need perfect evidence.
You just need enough evidence to crack the certainty.
Step Four: Replace Identity With Curiosity
Instead of saying:
"I'm not athletic."
Try:
"I wonder what I could learn with practice."
Instead of:
"I'm not confident."
Try:
"I wonder what confidence would look like in this situation."
Instead of:
"I'm not disciplined."
Try:
"What would a disciplined choice look like today?"
Curiosity creates movement.
Labels create stagnation.
Curiosity keeps the door open.
And that's really what we're after.
Not pretending.
Not positive thinking.
Not convincing ourselves of something we don't believe.
Just becoming willing to question the limits.
That’s where meaningful change begins.
Not with certainty.
With curiosity.
What if this isn't true?
What if there's another explanation?
What if I've been looking through the wrong filter?
What if there's more available to me than I've allowed myself to see?
That's the work.
And honestly, it's a big part of what I've been working on behind the scenes lately myself.
I've been building something designed to help people identify the patterns, assumptions, and filters that shape their lives.
Because once you see the pattern, you can change the pattern.
Once you see the filter, you can challenge the filter.
Once you recognize the label, you can decide whether it still deserves a seat at the table.
I'll be sharing more about my new program in the coming weeks.
For now, I simply want to leave you with these questions:
What limits have you placed on yourself that deserve a second look?
What labels have you accepted as facts that might actually be conclusions?
And what becomes possible when you stop treating those limits as permanent?
Spend some time with that this week.
Write about it.
Talk about it.
Get curious about it.
The life you're capable of creating may be sitting just outside a label you've never questioned.
Thanks for spending this time with me today.
And until next time, keep noticing your patterns.
Because when you learn your patterns, you can lead your life.
