The Stories We Tell Ourselves

About the images: Illustrative scenes accompany this personal story. AI-created images are identified in their captions; they are not photographs of the encounters described.

Have you ever been driving down the road when someone suddenly cuts you off?

Maybe they refuse to let you merge into traffic. Or perhaps they come flying past you in the right lane, seemingly without a care in the world.

I have.

And I can tell you, it makes me angry!

Almost immediately, my mind starts creating a story about that driver.

What a jerk! That person is so inconsiderate. They think they’re more important than everyone else. They don’t care about anybody but themselves!

Sound familiar?

But here’s something I’ve been discovering about myself.

I don’t actually know any of those things.

I know what the driver did. I know how it made me feel.

But I don’t know anything about that person’s life, their circumstances, or what might have happened just moments before our paths crossed.

And yet, in a matter of seconds, I’ve created an entire story about someone I’ve never met.

A story that makes me angry.

A story that can follow me for miles.

And sometimes, a story that can affect the rest of my day.

So I’ve started asking myself a question.

What if the story I’m telling myself isn’t true?

Maybe They Have to Poop!

Now, before we get too serious, let me share something my wife, Lisa, and I have started doing.

When someone is driving like they’re in a terrible hurry, one of us will sometimes say:

“Maybe they have to poop!”

Yep. That’s our explanation. 😂

And you know what?

Sometimes it works!

Instead of continuing to get angry about someone’s driving, I suddenly find myself imagining this poor person desperately trying to reach the nearest bathroom.

It’s ridiculous. It’s funny. And it changes the moment.

Now, do I actually believe that’s what’s happening?

Of course not!

But here’s the interesting part.

I don’t know that they’re an inconsiderate, entitled person either.

Both explanations are stories I’ve created without knowing the truth.

One makes me angry.

The other makes me laugh.

And that realization has become part of a much bigger discovery for me.

The Stories Our Minds Create

Our minds are constantly trying to make sense of the world around us.

We observe something, and almost immediately, we begin interpreting it.

Someone doesn’t return our greeting.

They must not like me.

A friend doesn’t answer a message.

They’re ignoring me.

A coworker speaks sharply.

What’s their problem with me?

Sometimes these interpretations happen so quickly that we don’t even recognize them as assumptions.

They simply feel like facts.

Psychologists have studied this tendency for years.

One related concept is called the fundamental attribution error.

In simple terms, we often explain other people’s behavior by assuming something about their personality or character, while overlooking the circumstances that might be influencing them.

Someone cuts us off in traffic, and we assume they’re selfish.

But if we accidentally cut someone off, we might explain that we didn’t see the other vehicle or that we made an honest mistake.

Same behavior.

Two very different explanations.

And that’s what fascinates me.

How often do we mistake our interpretation of an event for the truth about what happened?

What Do I Actually Know?

This is something I’m currently practicing in my own life.

When I notice myself becoming angry or frustrated, I’m learning to become present with what’s happening.

Instead of immediately following every thought my mind creates, I try to recognize the emotion.

I’m feeling angry right now.

I don’t have to pretend I’m not angry.

I don’t have to criticize myself for feeling that way.

I can simply acknowledge that it’s happening.

And then I can become curious.

What am I actually reacting to?

What do I know for certain?

What am I assuming?

In the case of the driver, I know they cut me off.

I know it frightened or frustrated me.

But I don’t know why they did it.

Maybe they’re simply an inconsiderate driver.

That’s certainly possible.

But perhaps they just received a phone call from a distressed child who needs help.

Maybe they’re late for an important event.

Maybe they’re having one of the worst days of their life.

Or maybe they really do have to poop!

The point isn’t to figure out which explanation is correct.

The point is recognizing that I may never know.

And if I don’t know the truth, why should I automatically choose the explanation that makes me feel the worst?

Discovering Another Emotion

Here’s the part of this practice I find most interesting.

When I become present and observe my anger, I sometimes discover that I have a little more freedom than I realized.

I may not have chosen my initial emotional reaction.

Anger can appear before I’ve had time to think about anything.

But once I notice it, I can decide what to do next.

I can continue replaying the incident in my mind, reinforcing the story that someone intentionally disrespected me.

Or I can question that story.

I can imagine another possibility.

Maybe something compassionate.

Maybe something completely ridiculous.

And sometimes, something changes.

I might feel a little sympathy.

I might become curious.

I might laugh.

Or I might simply find that the anger doesn’t have quite the same hold on me anymore.

That doesn’t mean the other person’s behavior was acceptable.

Dangerous driving is still dangerous.

And I’m certainly not suggesting that we should ignore bad behavior or pretend everything is wonderful.

I’m discovering something much simpler.

I don’t have to keep feeding an emotion with a story I cannot prove.

It Happens Everywhere

The more I think about this, the more I realize that these stories aren’t limited to driving.

They happen throughout our everyday lives.

Imagine a coworker who seems unusually rude.

It’s easy to think, That person has a problem with me.

But what if they’re dealing with a difficult situation at home? What if they’re exhausted or overwhelmed?

Or consider a family member who seems distant.

Our minds might immediately begin telling us that something is wrong with the relationship.

They don’t care anymore. I’ve done something to upset them.

But perhaps they’re struggling with something they haven’t shared.

Maybe they need a little space.

Maybe their distance has nothing to do with us at all.

Even a simple interaction at a restaurant can become a story.

A waitress seems impatient or snippy.

We might decide she has a terrible attitude.

But what if she’s been working a long shift, the restaurant is short-staffed, or she’s worried about someone she loves?

We don’t know.

And sometimes, rather than inventing an explanation, the best thing we can do is simply ask a question or have a conversation.

Of course, there are situations where someone’s behavior really is inappropriate. Being understanding doesn’t mean accepting repeated disrespect or ignoring the need for healthy boundaries.

But I wonder how many unnecessary arguments, hurt feelings, and moments of resentment begin with a story we created before we had all the facts.

We Don’t Have to Believe Every Thought

One of the things I’m learning is that having a thought doesn’t automatically make it true.

That sounds obvious when you say it out loud.

But in the middle of an emotional moment, it can be surprisingly difficult to remember.

Our minds are very good at producing explanations.

And sometimes they’re convincing!

The challenge is recognizing the difference between what actually happened and what we’ve decided it means.

I’m still practicing this.

There are times when I notice my anger quickly and can step back from it.

There are other times when I get caught up in the moment and don’t recognize what happened until much later.

And that’s okay.

For me, this isn’t about becoming someone who never gets angry.

It’s about becoming more aware of what happens inside my own mind.

I can’t control how every person behaves.

I can’t always control my first emotional reaction.

And I certainly can’t know everything happening in another person’s life.

But I can practice observing my reactions.

I can question my assumptions.

And I can choose whether to continue believing a story that might not even be true.

What If We Changed the Story?

Think about how many people we encounter during an ordinary day.

Strangers on the road.

Coworkers.

Friends.

Family members.

People working in stores and restaurants.

Each one has a life we know very little about.

They have responsibilities, worries, hopes, disappointments, and experiences that may be completely invisible to us.

And just like us, they have good days and bad days.

What if we approached more of those encounters with curiosity instead of immediately making judgments?

What if we gave ourselves permission to consider another explanation?

Not because we know it’s true.

But because we recognize that our first explanation might not be true either.

Maybe we’d find ourselves feeling a little less angry.

A little more compassionate.

And perhaps a little more connected to the people around us.

Or, at the very least, maybe we’d get a good laugh imagining someone desperately searching for a bathroom!

Sometimes a little humor can open the door to an entirely different emotional experience.

And that’s a discovery worth making.

Behind the Discovery

This article comes from something I’m actively practicing in my own life.

I’ve noticed how quickly I can become frustrated by another person’s behavior, particularly while driving.

Someone cuts me off, refuses to let me merge, or speeds past me, and my mind immediately begins creating explanations about who that person must be.

But I’ve been learning to become more present with my emotions.

When I recognize anger, I try to observe it, accept that it’s happening, and question the assumptions that may be making it stronger.

One of the things that helps is humor.

My wife, Lisa, and I have developed a habit of imagining that an impatient driver might simply be desperate to find a bathroom.

“Maybe they have to poop!”

It’s funny, but it also serves a purpose.

It reminds me that I don’t actually know what’s happening in that person’s life.

And when I change the story, I sometimes discover that my emotions can change too.

I’m not presenting this as something I’ve perfected.

It’s an ongoing journey of learning to understand my own reactions and discovering how much influence my thoughts can have on the way I experience the world.

What I find most encouraging is that the discovery doesn’t require anyone else to change.

It begins with noticing what’s happening inside me.

And sometimes, that’s where the most important journeys begin.

What did you discover today?

Discover the Journey.