The Lies We Tell Ourselves
We love stories. Especially the ones we tell ourselves.
Stories that wrap us in comfort and shield us from hard truths. Stories that make failure feel acceptable and success inevitable. Stories that sound like ambition but are really anesthetics. I call them mental pacifiers - soothers for a restless mind, distractions from deeper discomforts that we’re trying to avoid.
The problem? Many of these stories are lies. And we repeat them, day after day, week after week, month after month, to preserve the illusion of control and fairness. And before we know it, our life is over and we did… nothing. At least nothing remarkable. It’s time we named those lies. And let them go.
Lie #1: Meritocracy Is Real
Let’s start with the big one. The most painful one, at least for me. The myth of meritocracy: the belief that if you work hard, are smart enough, and “play the game,” you will succeed.
This idea is deeply seductive. It gives us a sense of agency in a chaotic world. But in practice, I’ve seen it fall apart more often than I’ve seen it actually applied. Structural inequalities, biases, and barriers - visible and invisible - make the playing field anything but level.
Look around. How many brilliant people do you know who’ve been overlooked, underpaid, overused and underestimated, pushed out or fired, simply because they didn’t fit the mold? Or even worse, because they spoke up? Because they dared to say what nobody else would?
How many mediocre leaders have failed upward, buoyed by the right networks, the right background, the right accent? How many times do you meet a C-Level, only to wonder minutes into the conversation - how the hell did THEY get there? And why are they STILL there?
Meritocracy is an empty promise. Stop wasting your time chasing something that doesn’t exist.
Lie #2: You Can Have It All
Another favorite. Especially among high achievers and modern “empowerment” narratives.
“You can have a thriving career, a fulfilling family life, travel the world, do yoga at sunrise, cook organic meals, write a book, and still get 8 hours of sleep.” Sounds great, right?
But this is a productivity porn fantasy. In reality, life is about trade-offs. And pretending otherwise sets people up to fail - or worse, feel like failures when they inevitably fall short.
No one has infinite time, energy, or emotional bandwidth. Every yes costs a no. And chasing the myth of “having it all” often leads to burnout, resentment, and disconnection.
Your goal should be to disappoint as many people as necessary to avoid disappointing yourself.
Lie #3: “I Just Need to Try Harder”
This one’s tricky, because it sounds virtuous. It puts the burden squarely on our own shoulders. If something isn’t working, it must be because we haven’t pushed hard enough. Hustled long enough. Sacrificed deep enough.
It’s the shadow side of determination: when perseverance becomes self-punishment.
In my own life, I’ve had to unlearn this. If There Is a Will, There Is a Way isn’t about brute-forcing your path forward. It’s about developing the discernment to know when to push, and when to pause. When to commit, and when to let go. It’s about replacing blind effort with intentional effort.
Trying harder isn’t always the answer. Sometimes, the real strength lies in stopping, recalibrating, and asking: Is this even the right goal?
Lie #4: “I’m Fine”
This is the mental pacifier most of us carry in our pocket. The emotional equivalent of “move along, nothing to see here.”
We say “I’m fine” to avoid confrontation. To maintain appearances. To convince ourselves we’re in control.
But “I’m fine” is often code for: I’m overwhelmed. I’m exhausted. I’m uncertain. I’m afraid to admit I’m not okay, because then I might have to do something about it. Or worse, I might have to face what’s underneath.
There is no growth in pretense. Vulnerability isn’t weakness - it’s the first step toward change.
I See The Truth In Your Lies
The lies we tell ourselves aren’t random. They serve a purpose. They help us cope. They protect our egos. They allow us to function in systems not built for fairness.
But protection and progress are rarely compatible.
Letting go of these mental pacifiers is uncomfortable. It means facing ambiguity, sitting with dissatisfaction, and making peace with imperfection. It means grieving the fantasy of how things should be - and embracing the complexity of how things are.
That can be very liberating. Because once you start seeing the scrapyard for what it is, not what you think it should be, you’re free to create your own truths. And you can assess factually: “Which of these pieces here do I like? What do I want to do with it?”
In If There Is a Will, There Is a Way, I wrote:
“Clarity doesn’t come from knowing all the answers. It comes from deciding which questions matter most.”
Let’s stop pretending the system is fair.
Let’s stop pretending we can do it all.
Let’s stop pretending we’re fine when we’re not.
Let’s stop pretending there’s a roadmap and someone else has it.
And let’s start asking better questions:
- What do I really want?
- What am I willing to trade for it?
- What beliefs am I ready to release?
Because the truth - while harder to hold - is the only place real change begins.