The Part of You That Feels Locked In
Maybe it is the story that you are not a good public speaker because a fourth grade teacher said you mumble. Maybe it is the story that you are not athletic because you were the youngest and smallest child in every family bike ride. Maybe it is a more complicated story from a relationship, a job, a season of life that did not go the way you needed it to.
Whatever the story is, you know the feeling. A quiet, invisible weight. A ceiling on what you believe you can attempt. A part of you that behaves as if a verdict was delivered years ago and has not been revisited since.
Here is the thing I need you to hear: there is no story about you that cannot be rewritten. The path ahead is wide open. You can be and become and do absolutely anything. But first you have to understand why those old stories are still running, and give yourself a practical tool for updating them.
That tool is the Kind Reframe.
Why Old Stories Stay Frozen
Negative events have a strange power to stick in the mind like permanently impaled daggers. We attach emotions to events based on how they felt at the time. And unless something interrupts that process, the story stays frozen exactly as it was first formed, often with the limited understanding and the raw emotions of a child or a much younger version of ourselves.
The problem is that your five-year-old self did not have the context, the vocabulary, the life experience, or the cognitive development to evaluate what was actually happening. They just felt it. And the feeling got filed away as truth.
You are not five anymore. But part of your nervous system is still running that file.
The Canoe Story: How I Carried Guilt for Over a Decade
I want to share a story from my own life because it illustrates exactly how this works and why the Kind Reframe matters.
When I was about five years old, my family went on a canoeing trip with several other families. It was spring in the Chicago suburbs. The Des Plaines River was frigid, barely defrosted. I was in a canoe with my father.
We hit rapid waters. We got snared by tree branches at the river's edge. My father broke us free, but moments later our canoe capsized. He saved us both and got us back into the canoe, but the excursion had to be cut short. I was shivering and cold. All the families who had gotten up on a Saturday morning, packed everything, driven to the river, were sent home early because of what happened to us.
Back at the gathering afterward, hot cocoa in hand, blanket around me, I felt terrible. I believed it was my fault that the canoe had capsized. I believed I had ruined the day for every family there.
I carried that story for over a decade. Until I finally worked up the courage to tell my father how bad I had always felt about it.
My father looked at me with total disbelief. He said: Mary Sue, seriously. Your tiny body could not have tipped that canoe over if you tried. It was me. I tipped the canoe. If you had hung your entire body off one side of the boat, your weight could never have even rocked that canoe compared to the impact of my weight.
He was about 300 pounds. I weighed 45.
The moment he said it, I looked back at the entire event with fresh eyes and a forehead slap. Of course. Of course that was true. But for more than a decade, that story had sat frozen in my mind exactly as it first arrived: through the eyes and emotions of a five-year-old who had no context for physics, for weight distribution, for anything except the feeling that she had done something wrong.
That feeling, which I now recognize as shame, immediately dissolved when the story was retold with adult logic and compassion. It found a quiet, much less menacing home in my mind.
The Kind Reframe: Three Practical Steps
The Kind Reframe is the tool I built from this experience and from years of working on the invisible stories that slow us down. It has three steps.
Step 1: Note It
The hardest part is simply catching the story in motion. Self-shaming messages are often so automatic and so well-worn that we do not register them as something we are doing. They feel like facts rather than stories.
One reliable way to surface them: tell a trusted friend you are working on this. Our friends notice our self-shaming language before we do. I was at my yoga studio once and said, out loud, to the employee at the desk: I am so sorry, I am one of those people leaving their water bottle here. I am so dumb. I am just one of those annoying people.
The employee looked at me and said: no one here would ever think you are a horrible person. Here is your water bottle. It is no biggie.
I stopped cold. I had called myself horrible and dumb over a forgotten water bottle. I would never say that to a friend, a stranger, or a child. But I said it to myself without even noticing. That moment mirrored the story back to me and I could suddenly hear it for what it was.
Other tools for noting: mindfulness or meditation with a notepad nearby to capture intrusive thoughts. Counted breathing, breathing in for eight counts, holding for eight, exhaling for eight, gives your brain a physical task that creates enough quiet to let the hidden messages surface.
Step 2: Label It
Once you have noticed the story, name it plainly. Not with judgment, just with honesty. Some examples:
- Punishing myself for being imperfect
- Self-blame for an unchangeable event
- Holding myself responsible for something that was not my responsibility
- Carrying guilt for a verdict that was never mine to receive
The canoe story, labeled honestly: I was holding myself responsible for a physics event that a five-year-old had no possible control over.
Labeling strips the story of its authority. When you say it plainly, the irrational structure of it becomes visible.
Step 3: Retell It With Your Wise Adult Mind
This is the actual reframe. You take the story out of the hands of your younger, less-resourced self and give it to the version of you who is 30, 40, 50, 60 years old with context, perspective, and compassion.
What would you say to a friend who told you this story? What does an adult who understands physics, human behavior, probability, and imperfection actually see when they look at this event?
And here is the part that surprises people: even the stories where you did something you are not proud of can be reframed without dishonesty. You do not have to pretend you were perfect. You can say: yes, I behaved badly in that situation. And I was also twelve years old being egged on by a drunk uncle in a tribal social dynamic I did not have the skills to navigate. What a hero I am to have grown past that environment, to have found my own values, to be doing this reflection now. That story is not about failure. That story is about survival and growth.
The stock market goes up and down but always climbs in the long run. So does a life honestly examined.
Why This Belongs in the KindEdge Process
Frozen stories drain energy and trigger fear. They create invisible drag on every step toward your big goal. The person who believes they cannot speak publicly because a fourth grade teacher said they mumble will avoid the pitch meeting for the charity they want to start. The person who believes they are fundamentally behind because they came to fitness late will self-sabotage before they even try.
Clearing these stories is not therapy and it is not a replacement for therapy. If you are struggling with significant past trauma, please see a professional who specializes in that work. The Kind Reframe is a practical daily tool for the smaller, quieter stories that accumulate and collectively slow you down.
Every story you retell clears a little more drag from the path ahead. Every reframe is one less invisible barrier between you and the alternate ending to your life.
Join me at kindedge.com. There is no story about you that cannot be rewritten. It is not going to be easy. But it is going to be fun.
Come find the community that actually does this stuff in real life: kindedge.com/subscribe
And if you'd rather watch than read, the channel is right here: youtube.com/@kindedge
