The Lies That Keep Us Small

The 3 lies that kept me small, and how I’m letting them go.

There are lies we learn so young, we forget we ever agreed to them.

They don’t show up as villains. They show up as protectors - whispers disguised as warnings.
Don’t stand out. Don’t speak too loud. Don’t dream too big. Don’t try, or you’ll fail. Don’t fail, or you’ll prove them right.

We grow up thinking those voices are truth. But they’re not. They’re shadows.
And today, I want to call three of them out by name.

---

“I’m not good enough.”

This is the root of it all, isn’t it? The lie that worms its way into our worth, attaches itself to every idea, every creation, every attempt at joy. We tell ourselves we need more experience, more talent, more confidence, more proof.

And here’s the twist, sometimes, the people closest to us do believe in us. My parents told me I was good enough. My art teachers, my sisters, my brother, close friend - they all saw something in me. But it wasn’t always enough to drown out the noise.

Because when rejection letters arrive one after the other, when unsolicited critiques from peers circle like vultures waiting to tear flesh from bone, you begin to believe them. You start to wonder: Are the people who love me just being kind? Are they wrong? Am I wrong?

You look at the thing you once loved - writing, art, photography (in my case) and question why you ever thought it could be yours. If I’m not good enough, why do I keep coming back to this? Why does it still call to me?

Oh, the vicious circle. A heartbreak loop of doubt and desire.

But here’s what I’ve learned: Enough isn’t something we earn. It’s something we are and always have been.

The problem was never that I wasn’t good enough. The problem was that I kept giving away the power to decide. Until one day, I stopped asking for permission—and gave it to myself. (See last Wednesday’s Wilted Beauty post)

---

“Everyone’s out to get me.”

This one’s sneakier. It starts with self-protection, born from real pain. I used to be very cautious about who I let read my stories, who I confided in, and how I approached life in general. I was taught to be careful. To not trust. To guard myself at all costs.

But when you’re taught to never trust others, you eventually stop trusting yourself too. That’s the hidden cost of this lie—it doesn’t just keep people out. It locks us inside. Inside our doubts. Inside our silence. Inside a version of ourselves that isn’t allowed to bloom.

Not everyone is here to take from us. Some are here to see us. To cheer us on. To remind us who we are. (You know who you are!) Sometimes the universe wants to hand us exactly what we need, but we’re too busy armoring up to receive it.

---

“I’ll never be anything.”

This lie is so heavy because it echoes in the voice of every teacher, parent, boss, or interviewer who didn’t see our magic.

I remember an interview I had at a bank. The person I met with was a friend of my brother's. He looked over my resume - which was a mosaic of everything I had become in this lifetime: teacher, artist, writer, customer service, marketing, salesperson. But instead of seeing potential, he saw too much. He asked my brother, "What does she even want to do with her life?"

At 42, I just wanted to make ends meet. I wasn’t overqualified, I was overextended. I thought that résumé was an edge up. But apparently, it was a hindrance. I wasn’t taken seriously as a human being, being.

I went to art school, where they quietly told us the same story again and again:
That artists don’t “make it” until after they’re dead. And no one believed I could make a living as an artist anyway. So, I sold myself short. I slogged through the graphic arts department instead of honoring the truth of who I was. I never worked for a big firm. I piddled. I pieced together work. I took odd jobs. “Freelanced”! I stopped making art all together. Put my writing hat on and allowed someone steer me away from publishing and into screenwriting - where I saw some success, but it was exhausting - thwarted with manipulations - deceptions - and created in me a person I did not want to become. I refused to sell my soul.

But all of these odds and ends - lessons learned - dead end roads - made me the multifaceted creative I am today.

It took time, but I finally realized: I don’t have to choose between being a writer, a photographer, and an artist. I am all of those things. I can do what I love—and love what I do.

I may not be earning a corporate salary. I may still struggle sometimes.
But I’m creating. I’m alive in my work. I’m free.

---

We tell ourselves these lies to stay safe. But safety is not the same as freedom. And freedom is where we remember who we really are.

So, here’s your reminder, just in case no one’s told you lately:

You are good enough.
Not everyone is out to get you—some people are waiting to love you.
And yes, you are becoming something—right here, right now.

And I don’t know about you, but I am ready to shred the lies. Because I am good enough. And I feel like making my dreams come true.

Be love, Always - Be love,

Chera

---

If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear from you. Leave a comment and share a lie you’ve carried—and the truth you're ready to reclaim. Share this post with someone who needs a little courage today. And if you're new here, subscribe for more musings from the heart every Monday.

We’re all just remembering our way home - to ourselves, to our art, to the truth.

---