You Are Who You Are

You just don’t like salads. 

You’ve tried different styles, different bases, different dressings—it doesn’t matter. You don’t like them.

Salads aren’t filling. The textures aren’t enjoyable. They don’t taste nearly as good as the foods you choose more often. You know it’s something you “should” eat more of, but the evidence is in—you’re not a salad person.

There are some things about ourselves we just can’t change. It’s the way you’re wired. At a certain point, you are who you are.

Evidence Based Stories

As I’ve discussed in earlier issues (see You Are the Expert), nobody knows you better than you know yourself. You’ve sat in the cockpit for your whole life, and you know the ins and outs of what works for you and what doesn’t.

Throughout our lives we’re constantly collecting evidence. Our historic behavior patterns are some of the strongest evidence there is. When interpreted, they become stories we tell ourselves. Woven together, those stories form the narrative of who we believe we are—it’s the basis of our identity.

Evidence-based stories feel true. 

But just because a story was true in the past doesn’t mean it will be true in the future. And a pattern you’ve repeated consistently doesn’t mean your identity is fixed.

When the Story Becomes the Obstacle

We’ve all tried this. 

You identify something that needs to change and build a routine to make it happen. A few weeks later—sometimes days—the routine crumbles and old habits return. 

After a few cycles of this, the evidence becomes clear: you’re not someone who can stick to routines. 

At that point, the story itself becomes the obstacle. 

Once you’ve accepted that you can’t stick to routines, the likelihood of any new routine succeeding drops dramatically. You approach it expecting to fail, and normal struggles become confirmation of failure rather than part of the process. 

The identity story—“I’m bad at this”—creates the outcome that reinforces it. As soon as you stray from the new routine, or suffer a minor setback, your subconscious is ready to throw in the towel.

“Here I go again. That routine isn’t going to work. At least I tried.” 

Another data point. More evidence. Stronger story.

The Previous Chapter Doesn’t Write the Next

Identity is a work in progress. It’s fluid. Multifaceted. It can look different from day to day. But it’s not fixed. 

The story you’ve been telling yourself is based on behavior you’ve exhibited thus far. It’s not a determination of who you are permanently.  

Your track record is good information—it exposes patterns and tendencies. But it’s not definitive. When you treat past behavior as proof of permanent identity, you create nearly insurmountable resistance to change. How you’ve behaved in the past isn’t a limitation for who you can be in the future. You’re only stuck if you believe you are.

Your identity isn’t etched in stone or written in ink. It’s sketched in pencil.

Your identity is a story, and the conclusion isn’t written until the story ends. No matter what chapter you’re in, the next one is still unwritten.

The Story Audit

So how can we change the arc of the next chapter? If identity is shaped by stories, then change requires editing them.

Here’s a simple three-step technique:

1. Identify an “I’m not/I am someone who” statement that you believe about yourself.
2. Reframe it as a behavior, not identity
3. Create a “Next time I…” statement 

Here’s an example:

1. Statement: I’m not someone who sticks to new routines
2. Reframe: In the past, I’ve struggled to identify obstacles that are likely to derail new routines
3. Next time: Next time I want to change my routine, I’ll plan for the biggest hurdle I’m likely to face

That’s it. 

No journaling required. No elaborate master plan. 

The Story Audit isn’t about planning your next big change—it’s rehearsal. It’s a low-stakes way to practice rewriting stories around past behavior and giving yourself a chance at a new ending.

Not an identity overhaul, a draft edit.

Sketched, Not Etched

The influence your past has over you isn’t what actually happened—it’s the story you tell yourself about it. Repeat a story long enough and it becomes real. But you can also make a new story true by choosing to tell it differently.

Your identity isn’t etched in stone or written in ink. It’s sketched in pencil. Use the eraser. Rewrite what no longer serves you.

The stories you tell about yourself become the life you live. Choose them carefully.

As always, thanks for reading. I’m truly happy you’re here. 

All the best,

Nate