The Stories We Live By
Picture a young girl sitting quietly at the dinner table. Around her, conversations flow—her parents’ voices laced with worry about money, her older sibling lamenting the latest social drama, and the TV in the background proclaiming the virtues of success, power, and popularity. Though she doesn’t realize it, the girl is absorbing these narratives, layer by layer.
She learns that love is conditional, measured by achievement. That survival depends on pleasing others. That her worth is tied to how well she fits in. These are not the stories she would choose for herself, but they begin to define her. By the time she’s grown, these inherited scripts feel so natural that she may never question them.
But she could.
What if she stopped and asked: Who am I beyond the stories I’ve been given?
The MUD of Misguided Stories
Anthropologist Tanya Luhrmann has studied how cultural frameworks shape the stories we tell ourselves, influencing everything from our mental health to our spiritual experiences. These cultural narratives, often unexamined, become the foundations of how we live.
Layered onto this is what I call Misguided Unconscious Decisions (MUD)—patterns of thought and behavior mostly formed in childhood and adolescence. MUDs are survival mechanisms, created to help us cope with early challenges. But as we grow, they can become obstacles, locking us into outdated ways of being.
For instance, a child who felt invisible might unconsciously decide, “I must achieve to be seen.” A teenager who experienced rejection might internalize, “If I don’t fit in, I’m worthless.” These decisions, though protective at the time, often evolve into stories that undermine us as adults.
The Three Stories We Tell: Villain, Victim, Victor
The Villain Story: Fear and Control
The villain is the person who responds to their pain with fear and a need to control. Their narrative becomes one of domination: “It’s me against the world.” They see life as a battleground where survival requires power, manipulation, and dominance. This is the base-level story, rooted in distrust and scarcity.
Unaware of their programming, the villain believes they are simply being “strong” or “realistic,” but their need to control others and their environment is driven by fear—fear that life will hurt them again. This story perpetuates cycles of pain, as hurt people hurt others.
Villains are often blind to their own behavior because their wounds demand a story that justifies their actions. Narcissists don’t see themselves as narcissists; they see themselves as survivors in a hostile world.
The Victim Story: Identity in Struggle
The victim story emerges when someone cannot release their pain. Instead of transforming suffering into meaning, the victim over-identifies with it, defining their identity by what happened to them. Their story becomes: “This is who I am because of what I’ve endured.”
This is the culture-level story, where pain is seen as a badge of identity rather than a stepping stone to transcendence. It’s important to acknowledge that victimhood is a necessary stage in healing. To process trauma, people must feel their pain, validate their experience, and grieve. But no one is meant to live in the victim state forever.
Staying in the victim story is a choice, one that leads to stagnation and self-destruction. It prevents people from reclaiming their agency and rewriting their narrative into something empowering.
The Victor Story: Pain Transformed
The rarest story—and the one that offers true freedom—is the victor story. This is the narrative that says: “This happened to me, but now I will happen back.”
In the victor story, pain is not the defining element of identity but the source of strength, wisdom, and purpose. It becomes a tool for connection and contribution. The victor transforms darkness into light, using their unique suffering to ease the suffering of others.
This is not just a story of survival but of transcendence. By embracing the lessons of their pain, victors achieve full healing. Ironically, the act of helping others becomes the final step in their own transformation.
The Cage of Cultural and Survival Narratives
Cultural and fear-based stories hem us in. They tell us:
Power is the only path to respect.
Popularity is the measure of worth.
Pleasure is the antidote to pain.
These scripts are easy to adopt because they tap into primal instincts for survival and social belonging. But they are poor guides for a fulfilling life.
Luhrmann’s work on spiritual practices reveals how certain narratives—those tied to fear or control—can intensify suffering. She found that the stories people live by, especially their explanations of hardship and meaning, determine whether they flourish or falter. A story based on fear isolates; one based on purpose connects.
Next Level Human: Transforming Pain into Purpose
At Next Level Human, we teach this very thing.
We meet people where they are: individuals who are sick, who have failed so often they’ve stopped trying, or who feel worthless after years of being beaten down by others or life itself. We guide people who once believed in themselves but were knocked off course, those who’ve made mistakes, hurt others, and feel unworthy. We support individuals who have suffered profound losses, who have money yet feel empty, or who are broke and think their worth is tied to their bank account.
Everyone comes with a story, and every story carries pain. But at Next Level Human, we help people see that their history—the good, the bad, and the ugly—isn’t meaningless. It’s the raw material for their greatest narrative.
The best story of all is the redemption story, the hero’s journey. A hero isn’t someone without flaws or pain. A hero is someone who turns their hurt into a way to help, someone who uses the happenings of their life as the material to live a great story.
Our coaches work as purpose mentors, helping individuals construct narratives that free them from old patterns and empower them to live lives of fulfillment. The pain wasn’t pointless—it was preparation for becoming the author of a story only they can tell.
Your Unique Suffering: The Key to Your Story
Here’s the paradox: The very pain we try to avoid contains the seeds of our most powerful narrative.
Your unique suffering—whether it’s heartbreak, loss, failure, or rejection—holds lessons that no one else can teach. It is tied to your greatest wisdom, empathy, and purpose. This is what I call the "spiritual fingerprint."
Your pain gives you perspective: Only you know what it feels like to navigate your specific challenges in the way you have. As a result, you have a particular perspective that a certain segment of others can only hear from you. Without your unique brand of medicine they may never receive the help they require.
Your struggle shapes your strength: The lessons you’ve learned through adversity are tools only you possess. Suffering becomes the source of meaning. Pain becomes the path to your purpose. Your hurt becomes the unique way you can help.
Your story connects you to others: By owning your narrative, you bridge the gap between individuality and universality. The most ironic thing about we humans is we hide what makes us most special. Rumi has a great qoute, “the wound is where the light enters”— It is also where the light emerges.
Luhrmann’s research into religious communities shows that people who reinterpret suffering through a lens of purpose and connection experience profound transformation. Similarly, your ability to frame your struggles as meaningful can elevate your life—and inspire others.
The Liberation of Writing Your Own Story
To live fully is to reclaim the pen and rewrite your life’s drama. But this doesn’t mean telling a story detached from reality. It means embracing the raw, authentic material of your life—your history, trauma, talents, and passions—and weaving it into a narrative that serves you and others.
This is where truth becomes personal. It’s not about proving your story to anyone else. It’s about asking:
Does this story reflect my authenticity?
Does it guide me toward fulfillment?
Does it uplift those around me?
The most powerful story isn’t the one imposed by culture or shaped by fear. It’s the one you consciously create—a narrative that aligns with who you are and who you’re becoming. It is also the most powerful thing you can do for personal healing. Healing begins with the authentic telling of your story of struggle. What’s beautiful is this does not just heal you, it changes all those around you who also need that medicine.
What Luhrmann Teaches Us About the Freedom of Stories
In her studies, Luhrmann demonstrates that the stories we live by are as real as the air we breathe. They shape how we see the world, interpret our experiences, and interact with others.
When individuals in her research reframed their narratives—whether through spiritual practices, therapy, or self-reflection—they experienced freedom. They moved beyond fear and control, finding meaning in their uniqueness and purpose in their struggles.
This isn’t an intellectual exercise; it’s a transformation of being. And it begins when you stop living the story handed to you and start writing the one only you can tell.
Closing Reflection: The Story Only You Can Write
Think of your life as a book, its pages filled with the unique ink of your experiences. No one else can write this story—not your parents, not your culture, not even your fears. Only you.
Your story isn’t just about you; it’s your gift to the world. The lessons you’ve learned, the struggles you’ve endured, and the passions you carry—these are your contributions.
So, ask yourself: Are you living the story you’ve been given, the story you suffered, or the story you’ve chosen? The difference between the two is the difference between a life of conformity, a life of victimhood or a life of fulfillment.
The world desperately needs your story. If you need help reach out to us support@nextlevelhuman.com
References
Luhrmann, T. M. (2012). When God Talks Back: Understanding the American Evangelical Relationship with God. Alfred A. Knopf.
Luhrmann, T. M. (2020). How God Becomes Real: Kindling the Presence of Invisible Others. Princeton University Press.