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The Stories We Tell Ourselves - Letter #3


About five years ago, I joined a program with Julie Ciardi, and she changed my life. I'm still in it. I don’t ever want to be without her teachings.


One of the first things she introduced me to was the concept of the noisy roommate, the voice inside your head that runs on a loop, coaching you away from everything you actually want. The ongoing reel of old stories, old conditioning, old beliefs playing on repeat. 


The wake-up call wasn't just that the voice existed. It was that I had no idea she was there.


She had been driving the car my entire life. Cautious, reliable, never speeding. She made sure I wore my seatbelt. She played my favorite songs and kept the temperature exactly right. She felt safe because she was familiar.


But she drove on autopilot. And every time I tried to reach over and change something, adjust the direction, turn up the heat, lower the volume, or try a different route, the autopilot snapped back to factory settings. Every single time.


In keeping me safe, she was holding me hostage.


Once I could see her, I could start to quiet her. I started watching. Observing. Gently pushing her into the back seat and taking the wheel myself. It isn't always easy. But it is almost always worth it, and even when the outcome isn't what I wanted, I've learned that failing forward is still movement. Still progress. Still becoming.


So what does the noisy roommate actually say?


Here are the stories I've heard most, in my own head, and in conversations with people just like you.


"I don't have time." - We all have the same hours in a day. The real question isn't whether you have time. It's what you're trading your time for. When I got honest with myself about what I was doing instead of the things that mattered, the answer was uncomfortable. Doom scrolling. Passive Netflix bingeing. Quiet escapism disguised as rest. Those aren't rest. Sometimes they are the noisy roommate keeping the seat warm so you never have to drive.


"I'll do it later." - I spent years saying this. Songs written and left in a drawer. Books started and shelved. Then I spent two and a half years caregiving for my father, watching him at ninety try to document his life, start new ideas, brain-dump everything he hadn't done yet.


I wrote a song then, about watching someone grapple near the end of life with everything unfinished and still inside them. I've never shared it…not publicly, not privately. But one line has become my quiet reminder that later is a fiction.


"The time's no good; someday, somehow.

He'll do it later…his later is right now."


“I can't. They need me." - Maybe they truly do. But if they truly don’t, can you delegate? Can you restructure? Can you ask for help? Or is "they need me" the most comfortable reason you've found to stay exactly where you are?


"That's unrealistic." - Says who? As a child, everything was possible, until someone, somewhere, decided to condition you out of it. That conditioning isn't truth. It's just a story that got repeated long enough to feel like one.


And again, self-awareness is the first victory. You cannot quiet a voice you don't know is there. But once you hear it, really hear it, you get to decide who's driving.


Have you earned the awareness badge? Just know this work is never finished. Self-awareness isn't a destination. It's the practice you return to, again and again, for the rest of your life. …did I mention that I am doing this work right beside you?


The goal isn't to silence the noisy roommate forever. It's to stop mistaking her voice for your own.


So, what happens when you finally reach for the wheel?

Til next time,

Your Fellow Traveler, Patty


PS: Fasten your seatbelt and turn it up. My song Sacred Traveler is the soundtrack to The Override Letters, and inside The Listening Room, you’ll find playlists for each part of the journey.

Keep on walking with me...no noise, no overwhelm, just occasional reflections for the road. I'll ping you when the next letter is published.





Ready to go deeper?  

If something in this letter stirred something in you, that's not an accident. The Override Session is designed to help you reconnect with your own clarity, intuition, and inner alignment.


The road gets clearer when you don't walk it alone. You already know if this is for you. 

A gentle note for the road: The Override Letters are created for reflection, self-awareness, clarity, and reconnecting with yourself. This space is not meant to replace therapy, medical care, crisis support, or professional guidance, and is not intended as a resource for addiction, abuse, crisis intervention, or big "T" trauma work. Please honor your nervous system and seek the right support when deeper care is needed.

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