Be The Observer
Close up of a blue eye
I write a lot about our “stories.” The ones we’ve made up about ourselves based on experiences we’ve had. The painful ones. The ones that tell us we’re not enough, not worthy, not lovable, or that we don’t belong.
A lot comes up when you start recognizing your stories.
You develop an “I spy” awareness when they pop up. You start noticing them in real time, or maybe shortly afterward. And slowly, you begin to understand why.
You start processing the data.
Why did I react that way?
Why did that interaction bother me so much?
Why do I keep finding myself in this same situation?
What does this have to do with one of my old stories?
Sometimes it’s not so obvious. Sometimes it’s all too apparent. You almost laugh because you just know.
There is something freeing about recognizing your stories. You might have an aha moment. Or a hmmm moment, when you know there’s something there that needs a little more pondering. Either way, you’re beginning to see yourself differently.
You begin to see patterns.
Maybe you react to a certain experience the same way every time. Maybe you react to a particular person in a way that puzzles you at first, only to realize they remind you of someone or something from your past. Maybe you notice that you consistently operate a certain way and have never really questioned why.
This is where becoming an observer can be so powerful.
I’ve noticed many of my stories that evolved into a way of being, and over time I’ve come to understand why they exist.
For example, keeping people at arm’s length was a big pattern of mine. It started when I was pretty young. It was a way to protect myself from hurt and rejection.
My story became: I don’t matter.
Ouch.
You can imagine that other stories evolved from that one.
I’m not lovable.
I don’t belong.
I’m not enough.
I survived by getting along. I survived by being the person people could rely on. I was a willing ear, a sounding board, the person who could hold space for everyone else.
And this way of being was all well and good…
Until it wasn’t.
I finally realized that some of the things I believed about myself weren’t facts. They were stories I had created from experiences I had lived through.
And once I could see them, I could begin to question them.
Then something else happened.
I became someone who had thoughts I actually wanted to share. I had a voice. It was liberating.
It was also just the beginning.
This was not an overnight transformation. It was a spark that set me on a path toward an identity that had always been there, waiting for me to acknowledge it, become comfortable with it, and eventually be proud of it.
And along the way, I became an observer. Not just of myself, but of others.
Not in judgment. In curiosity.
I was still a willing ear, but I started listening differently. I started hearing different things. I started noticing what people said, what they didn’t say, how they responded, what they avoided, and what seemed to trigger them.
And I started seeing myself in other people. I began recognizing patterns of behavior in others that I had once mirrored myself.
That was another aha moment.
Our stories don’t just live in our heads. They can show up in how we relate to people, how we communicate, what we tolerate, what we avoid, and how we move through the world. Our stories also live in our bodies (but that’s for another email).
When we become observers, we create a little space between what is happening and how we automatically respond. And that space is where choice lives.
My stories became data. My observations helped me understand the data.
And instead of judging myself for the patterns I saw, I became curious about them.
Where did this come from?
What was this behavior trying to protect?
Is it still serving me?
Is this who I am, or is this who I learned to be?
The more I observed, the more insight I gained into who I really am beneath the stories.
And eventually, I recognized that this ability to notice patterns, to observe myself and others with curiosity, wasn’t something I needed to get rid of.
It was a gift.
It has helped me understand myself more deeply. It has helped me recognize when an old story is trying to take the wheel. And most importantly, it has helped me remember that I don’t have to believe every story I’ve carried with me.
We can observe without judging.
We can get curious without needing an immediate answer.
We can notice a pattern without making it wrong.
Sometimes awareness is the first step toward change.
And sometimes, simply seeing ourselves more clearly is the change.
All of it has led me to who I am today.
And I rather like who I’ve become.
What are you noticing about yourself lately?
Maybe there’s a pattern you’ve been seeing. A reaction that keeps showing up. A story that suddenly makes a little more sense.
Don’t rush to fix it.
Just notice.
Become the observer.
You might be surprised by what you discover.