The Mirror Moment
There’s a moment when the room feels quiet, even though nothing around you has changed. The office still hums with keyboards, sales calls, and forced laughter around the coffee machine. The fluorescent light still flickers. On the surface, nothing is different.
But inside, something collapses.
For me, it happened in a glossy corporate office in Paris. Suit pressed. Shoes polished. Job title impressive enough to make people nod at dinner parties. The numbers were all there, quarterly targets hit, clients landed, bosses smiling. On paper, I was “made.”
But I felt like I was suffocating.
It wasn’t fatigue or office politics or burnout. It was the realization that I was trapped inside a story I hadn’t written. A story that looked good from the outside, but inside felt foreign, hollow, borrowed.
The strangest part? I was good at it. I played the part so well that I tricked myself into believing maybe it was mine. Hitting targets. Winning deals. Getting applause. But applause is not purpose.
That moment, the mirror moment, is when you finally stop and ask: Whose life am I actually living?
The Real Problem: Borrowed Lives
Living someone else’s story is like starring in a play without realizing you never auditioned for the role.
Culturally, it’s easy to get trapped. In France, where I grew up, you’re defined by diplomas. If you don’t have the right degree from the right school, entire industries shut their doors. The OECD has shown that France ranks among the most rigid diploma-driven labor markets in Europe, with credentials often outweighing skills in hiring decisions. Back in the late ’90s, business schools weren’t factories for entrepreneurs. They were factories for disciplined, obedient employees. The entire system was designed to produce “good soldiers.”
Psychologically, it makes sense too. Social identity theory tells us that people conform to group norms for belonging. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs puts safety and belonging before self-actualization. It’s not weakness to conform; it’s survival.
But here’s the trap: when you start measuring your success by someone else’s metrics, you can climb very high and still end up nowhere.
Gallup’s State of the Global Workplace report found that only 20% of employees worldwide feel engaged in their work. That means 8 out of 10 people are going through the motions, living stories written by institutions, cultures, or parents. Entire careers, decades of life, sacrificed to scripts that were never theirs.
That was me.
Oprah’s “Calling”
Then one day, I stumbled on Oprah Winfrey’s words:
“Your real job in life is to figure out what you are called to do. And then get about the business of doing it.”
Simple. Clear. Undeniable.
When I first heard her speak about The Calling, it was like someone had opened a window in a room I didn’t realize was suffocating me.
Because deep down, I already knew the truth. I had always known. But I had buried it under promotions, paychecks, and polite nods of approval. Hearing those words was like a flashlight in the cave. It wasn’t about chasing success, it was about finding the story that had been whispering to me for years.
The data supports this: Deloitte’s 2021 Global Human Capital Trends survey revealed that 79% of workers said “purpose” is central to their job satisfaction, yet only 33% believed their organization helps them find it. In other words, most people aren’t waiting for a raise, they’re waiting for meaning.
And meaning doesn’t come from borrowed scripts. It comes from answering your own calling.
Personal Anecdote: The Anonymous Corporate Job
At the time, I was working as a corporate sales manager for a tech giant. I was good, really good. Four years in a row, I was among the top reps in my division. In my last fiscal year, I even hit 182% of my sales target.
How? I didn’t hustle blindly. I analyzed my territory like a strategist. I knew which clients would buy and which were a waste of time. I built a system where partners did much of the selling on my behalf, and they got extra margins in return. Everyone won.
Well, almost everyone.
My clients loved me. My numbers looked stellar. But my manager hated me. I was uncontrollable. I didn’t fit the disciplined, compliant mold she wanted. So she harassed me until I broke.
On the outside, I was thriving. Inside, I was unraveling.
That was my breaking point. I realized I had been applauded for living a role that was slowly killing me.
Why This Happens
There are three main forces that push us into borrowed stories:
Cultural Scripts: In rigid systems like France’s, diplomas dictate destiny. OECD data shows that in France, nearly 70% of jobs require formal credentials, compared to less than 30% in the U.S. The message? Your story is only valid if it’s been pre-approved.
Family Expectations: Research from the Journal of Vocational Behavior shows that 70% of young adults report career choices heavily influenced by parents’ expectations. Many of us inherit dreams we never chose.
Workplace Conditioning: McKinsey reports that employees in hierarchical cultures are 30% less likely to propose new ideas. Originality is often punished, conformity rewarded.
So if you’ve found yourself living someone else’s life, don’t mistake it for weakness. The system was designed to make you play along.
The Shift: Naming the Problem
The first step toward freedom is naming it.
Psychology research on “narrative identity” shows that when people articulate their personal stories, even painful ones, they gain greater agency. Simply saying, “This isn’t my story” can flip a switch in your brain.
That’s what I did. I admitted it out loud: “I don’t want this life.” The fear that followed was enormous. Who was I without the title, the paycheck, the approval? But alongside the fear was relief. Because for the first time, I was telling the truth.
The Calling as Storytelling
Once I named The Problem: the question became: What’s my story then?
The answer was obvious once I stopped ignoring it: storytelling. I had always seen the world in frames, in visuals, in narratives. My brain didn’t think in spreadsheets; it thought in storyboards.
And the data supports why storytelling matters. According to Stanford research, stories are 22 times more memorable than facts alone. A Hubspot survey found that 55% of consumers are more likely to remember a brand if its story resonates emotionally.
I wasn’t meant to sell products. I was meant to tell stories. And not just pretty stories, but stories that reframe, persuade, and transform. That was my calling.
The Risk and the Relief
Here’s the paradox: leaving someone else’s story is terrifying, but staying is lethal.
The American Psychological Association reports that 77% of people experience burnout at their current jobs, and misalignment with values is one of the top predictors. Staying put feels safe, but it erodes you.
Leaving, on the other hand, brings uncertainty. Income instability. Judgment from family or colleagues. Long stretches of awkwardness where you feel like you’re free-falling.
But freedom beats suffocation. When I finally jumped, first into branding, then into creative direction, and eventually building my own brand, it wasn’t graceful. But it was mine. And that made all the difference.
Actionable Takeaways
If you suspect you’re living someone else’s story, here are five steps I wish I had taken sooner:
Audit Your Narrative. Write down your definition of success. Then cross out every line that came from parents, culture, or LinkedIn. What’s left is the real starting point.
Spot Your Jealousy. Envy isn’t ugly, it’s a compass. Studies show envy can be a motivational driver, pointing to suppressed desires. Who do you envy? That’s where your real story hides.
Find Your Pain au Chocolat. (More on this in Post #6). Seemingly small details in your life are hints to your calling. Mine was noticing design in the smallest moments.
Write Your Permission Slip. Don’t wait for managers or diplomas to validate you. Give yourself written permission to test, fail, and start.
Redefine Winning. Self-Determination Theory (Deci & Ryan) shows that happiness correlates more strongly with autonomy and purpose than with income. Redefine winning as alignment, not applause.
Conclusion
When you realize you’re living someone else’s story, you have two choices: double down on the role, or walk off stage and start writing your own script.
It’s messy. It’s scary. People will think you’ve lost it. But here’s the truth: you can’t be the hero of a life you didn’t choose.
And once you step into your own story? That’s when creativity stops being decoration and starts becoming destiny.
