When False Assumptions Tangle the Mind
We live by stories we don’t even realize we’re telling ourselves. They whisper quietly — little half-truths dressed as certainty — shaping how we walk, speak, dream, and sometimes, how small we allow ourselves to be. Funny thing is, most of them aren’t even ours. They come from childhood rules, social media noise, a teacher’s offhand remark, or that one embarrassing failure that still echoes in your chest when you least expect it.
Assumptions. They stick like burrs to your thinking. Some keep you safe, sure, but others build invisible fences. They weigh you down like wet clothes you forgot to take off after a storm. And we wear them anyway, because they feel familiar — they sound like truth. But truth isn’t what we think; it’s what we see once we stop pretending we already know.
The other day, I caught myself doing it — assuming. I told myself I couldn’t post something because “it wasn’t ready.” (Ready for who? The algorithm?) That tiny lie froze me for a week. That’s how sneaky they are.
Let’s unravel a few of these tangled threads.
1. “If I don’t know everything, I can’t start.”
Oh, this one is a monster. The eternal “I’ll start when…” trap. It’s the reason so many YouTube channels, Etsy shops, and brilliant inventions never make it past the notebook phase. We wait for the moment — when we know it all, when the lighting is right, when confidence magically appears. But honestly? You’ll be waiting until the Wi-Fi goes out in 2040.
I’ve learned (the hard way) that clarity shows up after movement — like headlights revealing more road as you drive. You don’t get the map first; you just start walking. Even messy action creates momentum. And it’s always messier than you thought it would be.
Try this thought instead: “I’ll figure it out as I go.”
It’s not recklessness — it’s realism. Progress happens when curiosity outruns fear.
2. “Success only happens to certain people.”
We say this one quietly, usually after scrolling through someone else’s highlight reel at 1:00 a.m. Success looks so… curated. Like it has a specific aesthetic — minimalist desks, oat milk lattes, perfect hair. It’s easy to forget that every one of those people started with shaky hands and unpaid bills.
Believing success is reserved for “them” — the extroverts, the influencers, the lucky few — it’s like locking yourself out of your own house. You watch your potential through the window but never walk inside.
Truth bomb: success doesn’t care about personality types or zodiac signs. It cares about showing up again. and again. and yes, again.
Shift it to this: “Success is built from small, repeatable courage.”
Not glamorous, but it works. And it’s quieter than you’d think.
3. “It’s selfish to put myself first.”
That one hits deep. Maybe you heard it growing up: “Don’t be selfish.” It sounds noble, but over time it morphs into this emotional booby trap. You start apologizing for needing rest. You shrink your ambitions so no one thinks you’re “too much.”
But burnout isn’t kindness. You can’t pour from an empty cup — honestly, you can’t even pour from a cracked one. And here’s the kicker: people feel your exhaustion more than your sacrifice.
The truth? Taking care of yourself is taking care of the world around you. Try walking by the ocean or just sitting on your porch with tea and watch what happens when you exhale fully. It’s like your mind expands again.
Better belief: “When I honor myself, everyone benefits.”
It’s not indulgence; it’s alignment. (And alignment looks damn good on anyone.)
4. “If it didn’t work before, it never will.”
Ah yes — the ghost of failed attempts past. It whispers every time we want to try again: remember the last time? how it went wrong?
We all have those battle scars — that business that fizzled, the post that flopped, the relationship that unraveled like cheap yarn. It’s tempting to call it proof. Proof that you “just can’t.” But failure isn’t proof; it’s data. Sometimes the timing sucked. Sometimes you weren’t ready. And sometimes, weirdly, the universe was protecting you from a lesser version of what’s coming.
Trade it for this: “Past attempts prepared me — they didn’t define me.”
Because seriously, growth doesn’t look graceful. It’s mud before bloom.
5. “I have to do it alone.”
This one sounds noble, like a hero’s vow — I’ll figure it out myself. Independence has been romanticized so hard we forget it’s often just loneliness in disguise.
Truth is, every big thing you admire — the movie, the brand, the invention — is the result of collaboration. Even Taylor Swift has a team (and probably three backup plans). Asking for help doesn’t weaken your story; it strengthens your structure.
I used to believe that needing people meant I’d failed at self-sufficiency. Now I see it’s the opposite. We’re built for connection. The brain literally lights up when we feel supported — science said that somewhere.
Try this instead: “Collaboration expands what I thought possible.”
Because honestly, no one makes it to the top solo. Not even close.
Letting the Assumptions Fall Apart
Sometimes growth doesn’t feel like transformation — it feels like falling apart. You start questioning the rules you built your life around, and it’s disorienting. But that’s where the magic hides — in the cracks.
When you stop carrying assumptions, the noise clears. You begin to notice new ideas, like sunlight creeping through the blinds on a morning you didn’t expect to feel okay.
And maybe you don’t have to be perfectly sure. Maybe it’s enough to just be present, alive, curious. Like when you step into a lake that’s colder than you thought and your body gasps, but then… you adapt. That’s what it’s like to live without the weight of false assumptions.
Call to Action: Shake the Dust Off
So here’s a challenge — take inventory of your mind. Write down one assumption you’ve been clinging to (even if it feels embarrassing). Then ask yourself: Is it true? Has it ever really been true?
Chances are, it’s just old data. Outdated software. Time for an upgrade.
Success isn’t waiting in some secret room guarded by gurus. It’s right here, tangled in your everyday choices. Start by questioning what you’ve been sure of. Let the unnecessary fall away, like peeling paint on an old cabin by the lake — ugly at first, but necessary before the new color goes on.
You don’t need permission to start over. You just need honesty — the kind that stings for a moment and then sets you free.
Let it sting. Then walk forward anyway, I am…and many others have come with me!
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