The stories we tell ourselves and how they shape the leaders we become.

When I was in Year 5, I stood in line waiting to be awarded Dux of the Year. I felt proud, excited… like my hard work was about to be recognised.

Miss Norman, the primary school principal, walked past me, stopped in front of me, and looked at the two boys standing beside me. She stopped, turned to them, and said,

“It should have been one of you that came first.”

That single sentence planted a seed of doubt I carried for years.

Was it because I was a girl? Because she didn’t like me? Or was I not as capable as I thought? I always told myself it made me more focussed, and determined but that wasn’t reality.

It took a long time to realise that sometimes the stories we tell ourselves aren’t really ours - they’re borrowed from other people’s opinions, judgements, or careless words.

That narrator in your head

Every leader I’ve ever met has one.

That voice that says:

“You’re not ready yet.”

“You don’t belong here.”

“Others are better suited for this than you.”

Sometimes that voice makes us cautious in a way that protects us.

But other times, it keeps us small.

Sometimes, it can show up in the boardroom or meeting room - you’re presenting confidently until someone questions your decision.
Without warning, you’re back in that old memory, the one where someone once told you you weren’t ready, smart enough, or the “right” fit. You respond cautiously, downplaying your ideas. Or you protest too strongly without measure. The meeting moves on, but you walk away frustrated at yourself.

We have to decide whether those stories are a helpful compass or an invisible cage.

The Leadership Balance

I’ve built my leadership style around encouragement and positivity, often spotting strengths in people that they can’t yet see in themselves. But I’ve also learned that there’s a danger in being too supportive. Both of others and of our own excuses.

It’s like when you spot potential in someone and pour encouragement into them - sometimes more than you give yourself.
But in trying to protect them from criticism, you soften the truth. Deadlines get missed, performance issues linger, and you realise your over-generosity has actually kept them from growing.

In leadership, there’s a fine line between:

• Managing your own imposter syndrome, so it doesn’t dictate your decisions

• Overcompensating, and becoming so generous or protective of others that you avoid difficult truths and accountability

True leadership isn’t about silencing the inner critic entirely, it’s about learning how to interpret what it needs to say. It’s choosing stories that are honest, balanced, and forward-moving.

Writing Your Own Ending

I can’t change what Miss Norman said. But I can change the meaning I give it.

Now, instead of hearing “You’re not good enough”, I hear:
“You know how much words matter, so choose yours wisely.”

That’s the story I choose to carry.

And I know that if I’m not careful, old stories can still sneak into my decisions.
Like when I’m offered an opportunity that scares me. It’s easy to say the timing’s wrong or I’m “not quite ready.”

Or when they are asking for expression of interest, and I don’t put my hand up because I question my capabilities, or they will not want me, they will think the other person is better suited.
In reality, it’s just that old whisper telling me stepping up will expose me. Taking the safe option might feel comfortable, but deep down I know fear is holding me back.

If you’re a leader, you’re also a storyteller. Not just for your team, but for yourself. The way you narrate your past will directly shape your future.

The ending is still yours to write.