In this week's post, we explore the invisible narratives that shape how we show up in our lives and work. Join me as I share what happened when I finally noticed the story I'd been telling myself and discovered I could rewrite it.
FEBRUARY 12, 2026
Last year, we traveled to Germany for my cousin’s wedding.
Family and friends arrived from all over the world and I settled into a daily rhythm of breakfast with family and then some physical activities like walking or easy hiking.
My family lives in the beautiful Alps with hundreds of trails just at their doorstep. Throw in some castles and breathtaking scenery and I wanted to go outside all the time. The only thing keeping me from it was my foot.
I had a seemingly small household accident about five years ago that ended with me in a wheelchair for six months, a chronic pain diagnosis, a lot of weight gain, and the now daily quest to find healing.
Walking was okay, but when it came to walking on uneven ground or even hiking on mountain trails, I could feel the familiar pain flaring up.
Whereas the rest of my family would visit some of the mountain huts and then show me pictures after, I walked the paved paths in the valley instead.
I actually did feel a sense of accomplishment for getting out there and being active. But when I saw the smiling faces in the pictures and everyone sitting around drinks and incredible meals high up in the mountains, I also felt sad.
I used to be that person who hiked up the mountain. I used to be fit and love physical activity.
A few years ago, I was the one who explored castle ruins with my cousin and went on fun discovery hikes to explore Bavaria’s Celtic history.
Somehow, it felt like a profound part of me had been extinguished over the last five years.
I also felt disappointed in myself and even worse were the looks of pity. Everyone meant well by trying to make me part of the experience and showing me pictures, and they were genuinely concerned about my health and happiness. Inside me, it just felt like I was failing at being myself.
I ended up in an unexpected funk that made me question whether coming to the wedding had even been a good idea. I was struggling deeply with my self-image and my place in the family with my identity having changed so drastically over the past years.
It also occurred to me that I was the one telling this story. Nobody else. I had created this story about myself and I wondered if there was a chance this story could change.
After the wedding, everyone decided to go on one last big hike. Many people were leaving after this and it was a wonderful opportunity to spend some final time together. My first instinct was that the hike was way too long and way too steep for me to do it.
My cousin reassured me that I could take the gondola up with them, walk across the even trail to the hut and wait there for them. They would do the next part of the hike up to the summit and then return to share a meal with me.
That sounded doable and with a perfectly clear blue sky and beautiful spring weather, we set off with our family group.
I had no idea this outing would change my life.
When we reached the hut, I felt so sick of being left out and truthfully quite angry with myself that I said I would go up to the summit with them. Amidst stunned looks and some whispers about having to call the mountain rescue, eventually everyone excitedly jumped on the idea. I cannot describe what I felt at that moment but I had tears in my eyes as we all set off.
The hike was grueling for me. I took my time and I walked at my own pace. One foot in front of the other. By the time I was half-way up, some people were already coming back down but I did not let that discourage me.
I eventually reached the summit and by that time, I did have tears streaming down my face. People were literally cheering for me and then everyone wanted to take pictures with me. I had changed my story and I knew this would change everything going forward.
For the first time in years, I felt alignment again and that familiar rush of excitement that I was part of my life, fully immersed and present.
And while I fully appreciate that not everyone can push past their physical self-stories safely, I know there is always a part of our self-stories we can impact.Maybe it is not a hike up a mountain, but something else you have been telling yourself you cannot do. Perhaps your self-story was meant to keep you safe from difficult experiences and now it has served its purpose and is keeping you stuck.
That day on the mountain, I caught myself in the act of living inside a story I had unconsciously agreed to as truth. The story wasn't just "I can't hike anymore." It was "I am no longer the person I used to be. I have lost something essential."
Self-Story Awareness begins when we catch ourselves saying "I am not the kind of person who..." or "I always..." or "I can never..."
The body internalizes these narratives as much as the mind does. You can feel them in the way you instinctively pull back from certain opportunities, in the tension that arises when possibility appears but your internal narrator says "that's not for me."
In my experience, self-stories reveal themselves in three ways: through repetitive patterns where the same outcomes keep showing up despite different circumstances, through physical sensations like that familiar anxiety or tightness when certain possibilities arise, and through the language we use when we talk about ourselves, the absolutes like always, never, and can't.
Self-Story Awareness creates space between us and the narrative long enough to ask: Is this still true? Did I choose this story, or did it choose me? Does it serve where I am going, or does it protect where I have been?
Think about the stories you tell about yourself.
What narrative have you been living inside that feels so familiar it seems like fact? Where do you feel it in your body when you bump up against the edges of that story?
The mountain didn't change me. Recognizing I could rewrite my self-story did. And that recognition is available in every moment we notice which narrative we are living inside and ask whether it still serves where we are going.
What self-story have you been living that might be ready to evolve?
By Petra Brunnbauer
Petra Brunnbauer is an award-winning Mind-Body Coach, founder of The Jōrni®, host of the globally-ranked Jōrni Podcast, and author of The Functional Freeze Formula™. With a Master’s in Psychology and as a doctoral student in Mind-Body Medicine, Petra is committed to advancing holistic approaches to health and healing.