Silent Narratives That Keep Us Stuck

Whether we’re in our 20s, 40s, or 60s, we all go through phases where we may feel stuck, spinning in the same place despite our efforts.

Perhaps it’s time to reflect on some of the silent narratives that influence our daily actions and, in some cases, our bigger decisions. Some of them may be outdated and no longer serve us. They often start with, “I can’t…”

A short story about one of the healthcare professionals I’ve coached. Suzanne is a busy working mother who believed her family schedule was fixed. Dinner was always at 5:00 PM to accommodate her children and husband. She organized her day around their schedules and felt constantly frustrated. She told herself, “I can’t change my schedule, so I have no time for exercise.”

Changing her narrative from “My family always comes first because I am a good mother and wife” to “My needs and well-being are just as important” released her from that loop. She gave herself permission to move dinner from 5:00 PM to 6:00 PM. This gave her time to go to the gym before dinner. Daily exercise changed her life. She had more energy. Her mood lifted. What surprised her most: no one in her family protested.

Another silent narrative, “I can’t go against my family’s wishes,” holds back a personal wish to pursue something different.

A young man whose family owns a thriving business faces this dilemma. As the oldest, he is expected to return home after studying and working abroad, marry the “right” person, and inherit the CEO role. But he has never been interested in manufacturing. His interests lie in art history and architecture. Each time he returns home, his father and grandfather remind him of his duty. Meanwhile, his younger brother shows a natural aptitude for business and has apprenticed in the family company since his teens.

Kim lives between two opposing narratives. If he follows his own path, he believes he is selfish and unfilial. If he follows his family’s expectations, he believes he will be unhappy for the rest of his life.

After years of tension, he chose to step away from the family business and pursue his own path.

Stephanie, a colleague who had always told herself, “I can’t run,” because she was not “athletic,” decided at 34 to train for a marathon. She partnered with a friend, trained steadily, and completed her first race at 36.

Sometimes, a shift in narrative leads to an easy adjustment, as with Suzanne or Stephanie. Other times, it leads to a more consequential decision.

When we accept these default narratives, we end up living without conscious choice.

These “I can’t…” narratives are so familiar that we don’t notice what we say silently to ourselves. They shape how we act, what we avoid, and what we believe is or is not possible.

Our narratives influence us for most of our lives.  They surface when we pause and listen to our own words.

Perhaps there’s a silent narrative that no longer serves you.

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