The Things I Believed Because Somebody Told Me To (and How I'm Unlearning Them on Purpose)

"You're lazy." "You're difficult." "You're just trying to cause trouble." 

If I had a nickel for every time some adult told me any of the above (or similar) when I was growing up, I could buy the fancy espresso maker of my dreams and still have enough left over for a year’s supply of beans. 

I heard it at ten when I preferred to stay inside reading or drawing instead of running around shrieking on the playground with other kids. I'd hear it again in my teens when I didn't want to spend my summers taking more classes instead of actually enjoying my vacation. 

And yes, I'd hear it some more (loudly) in my 20s and early 30s when I preferred freelancing or working on commission to the same shitty 9-to-5 hamster wheel everyone else seemed so excited about. 

Eventually, I stopped questioning the verdict. “Lazy” and "troublemaker" were simply stamped on my mental passport in permanent ink, and I carried those labels everywhere I went. For years... decades, in some cases. Then one day, I realized maybe it's not quite as simple as people want to make it. 

No, I'm not willing or able to pull double shifts at some thankless job I never wanted in the first place. But I can write like my life depends on it for 14 hours straight if I'm excited about a project I'm working on for a client or for myself. I finally got that maybe it was simply easier for other people to call me lazy than it was to understand that my motivation system runs on a different type of fuel.

That light-bulb moment sent me down a very worthwhile rabbit hole. And it made me wonder, what else do I still believe simply because someone, somewhere, told me to believe it? Spoiler: a lot. Chances are you're in a similar boat. See if any of the following sounds familiar.

Beliefs About Yourself

Growing up, I was consistently upset by things that didn't seem to bother other kids at all. Like, when characters were awful to each other in movies (or even cartoons), I couldn't handle it. If I found out someone I cared about said something bad about me behind my back, I couldn't handle that either, nor could I simply accept that they "didn't really mean it." (I mean pretty much everything I say about other people, behind their backs or otherwise.)

Don't even get me started on how I felt as I got older and started noticing deeply hypocritical behavior in adults and other authority figures in my life. And when I started dating later in life, men hated that treating me badly actually resulted in me loving or trusting them less. So, yeah, I got slapped with an extra-sticky "too sensitive" label pretty quickly.

But common labels like “too sensitive,” "lazy," or “not leadership material” often get passed down the same way heirloom china does — without considering whether the next generation actually likes shitty floral saucers. They masquerade as facts when they’re really just opinions or even projections of the speaker’s own hang-ups.

Beliefs About the World

When people used to tell me growing up that "hard work always pays off," I believed them, because it made sense to me. If someone does a lot for me, I genuinely want to give them more back in return, so surely other people operate the same way, right? Work hard, earn rewards that correlate to how hard you worked. Simple.

It took me many, many years of working too hard at jobs and never saying "no" when family or friends hit me up for favors to realize what a giant crock that really is. The only thing other people consistently do when you "work hard" without expecting anything in return is give you even more hard work to do. 

And when you finally reach your limit and put your foot down, you get to hear about how ungrateful you are. If you dare to make actual points as to why you deserve better than you're getting, well, then you're entitled, too. 

That's because life, society, and the rest of the world rarely to never work the way people claim it does. We’re all spoon-fed narratives like “good guys always win” and “hard work guarantees success.” And they sound harmless until reality fails to follow the rules as stated. When that happens, way too many of us blame ourselves instead of questioning the narrative.

Beliefs About Everything Else

My father wanted me to grow up to be a "good Christian girl," which was basically code for obedient, silent, and completely closed off to anything he didn't explicitly sign off on for me. I wasn't to ever question any of his teachings or go looking for my own answers. (And if you actually know anything about me, you're probably already snorting, because "asking questions" and "looking for my own answers" are pretty much my whole thing.)

Fast forward to today. I own more tarot decks than I do pairs of shoes and read for myself daily. I've at least sort of explored pretty much every path there is when it comes to spirituality and mindfulness. Most of what I personally believe about God, the universe, or my purpose in life would probably make my father burst a blood vessel, because it's based on what makes sense to me. 

The thing is, most of us inherit metaphysical frameworks wholesale –– heaven/hell, karma accounting, “the universe gives you what you deserve.” Questioning them can feel like getting ready to pull the wrong brick from a Jenga tower. But belief systems are tools, and they should be applied to your life accordingly. If a tool isn’t right for the job at hand, you’re allowed to reach for a different one.

The Unlearning Process

Unlearning a belief system of any kind is less like deleting files and more like packing up your house before a move. There’s a lot of sorting to do (keep, donate, toss), there’s nostalgia to navigate, and there’s that super surreal moment when you turn around and realize just how empty certain rooms really look when there's little to nothing in them.

And that's OK.

Beliefs are psychological furniture. Some items we choose, like that thrift-store coffee table you inexplicably love. Others wind up in the moving truck strictly because Aunt Mildred insisted we’d need them and would be sorry if we left them behind. But over time, living spaces crammed with mismatched, uncomfortable pieces stop feeling like home. 

That kind of clutter can be hard to get rid of. But the good news is you’re allowed to redecorate. Whenever you want and as often as you need to. If you feel like it might be about time to reevaluate some things in your own life, try these.

Run the "who said" test

When a belief doesn't really feel like a fit, ask yourself some questions. Who planted it in your head in the first place? An authority figure? Pop culture? Good, old-fashioned fear? Naming the source helps you decide whether it still deserves a seat at the table.

Check the expiration date

Beliefs formed in childhood often correlate to childhood problems or arbitrary rules you had no choice but to follow. But you’re older now. So, do the same issues and circumstances still apply to your life? If not, maybe the belief shouldn't either.

Ask the usefulness question

Is this belief actually helping me create the life I want? If it's fueling growth and motivating you the way that it should, keep it. But if it produces shame, paralysis, or constant anxiety, flush it like the waste that it is.

Meet yourself halfway

Don’t feel pressured to leap from “I’m unlovable” to “I’m divine perfection” overnight. (Seriously, I'm still working on that one myself, and I probably will be for the rest of my life.) Try a believable intermediate version, and get used to that first. Like, “I’m learning to treat myself like someone worth loving.”

Test some theories

Track small experiments to see what shakes loose. For example, maybe instead of fighting your natural sensitivity, you try honoring it by setting clear communication boundaries for a week. Does your life implode? Or do your relationships improve because now people actually know what you need?

What you believe today doesn’t have to be what you believe forever. And you don’t owe eternal loyalty to ideas that don’t serve, protect, or feed you. The point isn’t to build a new dogma and shackle yourself to that instead. It’s to build agency. 

Choose beliefs like you’d choose ingredients for a meal. Will this nourish, delight, and sustain me? If yes, welcome to the pantry. If not, let someone else get stuck with the canned peas or the sauerkraut for a change.