Through following these 10 steps, you will be able to unlock your personal development and reshape your own life’s story.
Many of us wish we were living a different life. We look at the people around us and say, “Wow, I’d give anything to be that guy/that girl/that shark (if you are into eating seals)” But change seems all but impossible, especially the further into life you proceed. It’s like our identities are cement, slowly hardening without our control. Well I say that’s all lies. In this article, we will take turns figuratively demolishing those cemented self identities with sledgehammers, then reshaping them how we see fit. I hope you brought your protective goggles, because this is going to get messy.
Table of Contents
How The Stories You Tell Yourself Shape Your Reality
10 steps to reveal the best version of yourself. Surprise, surprise – it’s not who you are now…
Today’s topic is as seductive as a glass of 18-year-old Macallan, and just as intoxicating: How the Stories You Tell Yourself Shape Your Reality. Yes, darling. You are both the author and the protagonist of this farce you call a life. And lucky you—I’m here to help you stop being the sad side character in someone else’s melodrama.
Let me begin with something mundane but chillingly true. A recent Gallup Poll (people do love their polls) says the world is steeped in record-breaking levels of unhappiness. People are becoming more miserable, more defeated, year after year. Dreadful, isn’t it?
But here’s the kicker: that misery? It’s not just circumstance. It’s narrative. It’s the droning, pessimistic, joy-sapping story you’ve been repeating in your mind over and over again.
What if I told you that you—yes, your precious identity, your oh-so-familiar personality—is nothing more than a story you’ve chosen to believe?
A script. A myth. A tale told by a fool—no offense—full of self-doubt and limiting beliefs, signifying… not nearly enough.
Now, I can practically hear the resistance writhing inside you:
“But Jordan, the mirror doesn’t lie! I am short. I am boring. I am hideous.”
Look, the mirror reflects only what you expect to see. And sometimes? Other people—parents, partners, that miserable Lucy in accounting—they tell you things that you mistake for truth. What a tragic little spell that is. But like all spells—it can be broken.
You’ve been living in someone else’s version of your story. But don’t fret, I’ve brought a metaphor—and I do love a good metaphor.
Imagine your identity is a leaf.
You are just a leaf, laying on the ground. Up to this point, you’ve tossed around by the winds of society, parents, lovers, enemies, trauma, and even that eighth-grade crush who told you that you had horrible breath.
But what if you stopped letting the wind decide your direction?
What if you reached down, picked up that leaf, and said,
“No more. I’m not the wind’s plaything—I’m the tree.”
That, my friends, is what we’re doing today.
But first—let go of the resentment. Society’s like the weather. Chaotic, unthinking, and sometimes just plain rude. But harboring resentment? That’s like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.
You with me? Good. I’m going to take you through 10 steps that will give you the control you have been sorely lacking in your own life’s story. My hope is that at the end you are a better version of you. -And that better version of you likes buying Porsches for your favorite authors.
Let’s begin.
STEP ONE – IDENTIFY TRAITS YOU DON’T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF
Yes, this part is a bit grim. Think of it as self-exorcism. Grab a pen. Or better yet, blood-red ink on black paper. Ooh, very dramatic. List every nasty little trait you can’t stand about yourself. Insecurities. Regrets. That annoying tendency to apologize when someone else bumps into you.
Don’t lie. I know you do it.
These aren’t sins. They’re shackles. And before we can become the sexy, powerful, enthralling version of you the world’s been dying to meet, we need to melt them down into raw material.
Got it? Breathe. This is your before picture, and we’re about to set it on fire.
STEP TWO – LOOK FOR CHARACTERS YOU LOVE
Okay, now we’re having fun. I want you to watch shows, movies, read books, and soak in your favorite characters. List the ones who spark something in you. This is the part where you binge-watch, re-read, and re-live the stories that make your soul tingle.
Who makes you want to sit up straighter, talk smoother, strut a little harder?
It could be James Bond, Jessica Rabbit, Hannibal Lecter (what can I say, he’s cultured).
Find the fictional (or non-fictional) beings that do it for you. Make a list. Be honest. If you adore Harley Quinn, admit it. If you think Wednesday Addams is the height of chic, write her down. Let your freak flag fly.
Once you’ve written down your favorite characters we can move on to where things get really interesting.
STEP THREE – COMPARE TRAITS
I want you to take that list of characters you love and list the traits they possess that make you enjoy them. What makes your icons magnetic? Daring? Mysterious? Invincible?
Here comes the magic. Take the traits from Step One—those ghastly self-beliefs—and put them side by side with the characters you just listed.
What’s missing?
The gap between those two lists isn’t a death sentence. It’s a map. An invitation. A mirror. And you’ve been walking past it every single day.
STEP FOUR – THINK ABOUT YOUR CURRENT LIFE
Transformation has a price. Are you ready to pay it?
Ask yourself: Who in your life benefits from you staying small? Who will be rattled when you start speaking with authority, dressing like you own the damn place, and refusing to grovel for crumbs of affection?
People will squirm. Some will hiss. Others will flee. That’s fine. Let them.
You can’t ascend to power dragging along the emotionally codependent baggage of people who liked you better meek. Choose power. Choose discomfort. Choose your future.
Warn those you love, if you must. Give them a chance to walk beside you. But if they can’t? Leave them in the prologue.
STEP FIVE – PICK A VISUAL SIGNIFIER
Time to mark the shift.
Change the hair. The clothes. The walk. The scent. Give the world a visual cue that you’re no longer playing small. That you’ve turned the page. This isn’t Clark Kent anymore—this is your cape moment.
Why? Because you need a reminder—a totem, if you will—that you’re not slipping back into the beige version of yourself. Humans are visual animals. Beyond the message you are sending out into the world, you are sending yourself a daily message that you aren’t going back to your old self without a fight.
Change the way you enter a room. Change the way you look at people. Start walking like you own every hallway.
Your reflection should make your past self feel a little threatened.
STEP SIX – GIVE YOURSELF GRACE TO FAIL
Let’s get one thing straight: failure is not the opposite of success. It’s the foreplay.
You will stumble. You’ll wear an outfit that doesn’t work. You’ll try to flirt and it’ll come out awkward. Good. Do it anyway.
Each hiccup is material for the memoir you’re going to write later. Just make sure the failures are interesting.
Be sure to check out my post about How to Turn Failures Into Powerful Stories of Resilience for advice on how to best leverage these failures. Why let a good failure go to waste?
STEP SEVEN – EVERY STORY, GOOD AND BAD, IS USEFUL
Let me tell you something sinful: Nothing is ever wasted.
The heartbreak? Use it.
The humiliation? Weaponize it.
The years spent pretending to be someone else? That’s just your origin story.
Every single moment you’ve lived, good and bad, becomes raw material in the hands of a good storyteller. Be that storyteller. Wear your scars like high fashion.
STEP EIGHT – DIVE IN
Pick a day. Not next year. Not after Mercury retrograde. Not when you “feel ready.”
Choose a day. Preferably a Monday, or a full moon. Start your new story then.
Don’t start small. Start symbolically. Burn the old scripts. Light a candle. Say a prayer. Make a toast. Whatever suits your brand of drama.
The key is commitment. You’re not trying on a costume—you’re becoming.
STEP NINE – LIVE THIS WAY FOR TWO WEEKS
Fourteen days. That’s all I ask.
For two weeks, embody the character. Live as the person you scripted. Be bold. Be dangerous. Be captivating. Cause delightful chaos. Make strangers fall in love with you.
Two weeks is enough to break a habit—or make one. It’s a tight enough timeframe that you won’t bail. It’s a long enough timeframe to feel the shift.
Don’t be surprised if your posture changes. If your voice deepens. If your phone starts ringing more. People respond to energy. And you’ve just raised yours tenfold.
STEP TEN – REFLECT
After your two-week romp into reinvention, pause. Sit down. Light another candle. Pour a glass of something aged.
Write it out. What worked? What didn’t? Who noticed? Who vanished? Most importantly—how did it feel?
Did you miss the old you? Or did you finally meet someone you’ve been aching to become?
Take the best parts. Keep them. The rest? Burn again. Let them fuel the next version of your tale.
Then go another two weeks. You’re building. You’re growing. You’re becoming the best iteration of you.
A Final Word
Allow me to let you in on a little secret. I used the ten steps above to remake myself multiple times throughout my life’s journey. You think I came out of the womb with a perfectly tailored suit and swagger to spare?
Hardly.
I’ve reinvented myself dozens of times. I’ve been charming, broken, reborn—and always, always better dressed each time.
It’s not like you do this once and that’s it. As times change and we change, it’s completely normal to look in the mirror occasionally and discover you’ve wound up in a spot you aren’t exactly smitten with.
When I was a scrawny, awkward, angst-ridden teen (yes, I had that phase), I channeled my favorite characters until one day—I became someone who I considered worth emulating.
When I was lost, drained, devoid of sleep and life force, I didn’t crawl under the covers. I rewrote. I stepped back into the light with a smirk and a glint in my eye. And the universe took notice.
When I felt dull and lifeless in adulthood, I reminded myself: You’re a silly little devil. Act like it. And I did.
That’s all I’m asking of you. Act like the character you were meant to be. Tell your story like it’s already legendary.
Because if you don’t? Someone else will. And they’ll write you as a background prop. A cautionary tale. A “what not to do.”
So grab the pen. Write the scandalous, glorious, utterly you version of your life. The one with action. With romance. With laughter. With power. Not with clowns. I hate clowns.
Because why live a tragedy when you can live a legend?
The stage is yours. Make it fun.
Until next time, storytellers… stay legendary.
