The Assumptions We Live Inside

Some of the most powerful forces shaping our lives are things we never meant to create.

Not beliefs we chose. Not truths we discovered.

But silent, invisible assumptions.

A glance. A silence. A gesture.

We think we’re seeing something clearly.

But perception is not truth — it’s an interpretation.

And assumptions are what we build on top of those interpretations,

layer after layer, until the original moment is buried.

She didn’t text back.

She must be angry.

I didn’t get the role.

I’m probably not good enough.

They looked at me like that.

They’re judging me.

It’s not just that we take a fact and tell a story about it.

It’s that we assume our perception is fact.

We forget the eyes we’re seeing through.

Forget the filters of our past, our wounds, our fears.

And from there — the fiction builds.

And we live as though it were real.

I once lost a dear friendship because of an assumption.

She grew quiet.

I assumed I’d done something wrong.

But here’s the truth:

She wasn’t even quiet — I just perceived it that way

because I was feeling tender that week,

and afraid I was too much.

Rather than asking, I withdrew.

So did she.

Two women trying to protect something tender

from a story that wasn’t even true.

We do this all the time.

We don’t see what’s happening.

We see our version of what’s happening.

And then we assume what it means.

And then we live inside that meaning as if it were the world itself.

It’s not just about misunderstandings.

It’s about the cost.

Opportunities never taken.

Relationships left to drift.

Old pain triggered by new people.

Inner narratives that keep us small.

Most of us don’t realize we’re living in a hall of mirrors.

That what we call “truth” is often a set of unquestioned reflections.

And because assumptions are so quiet —

they don’t shout, they whisper —

we rarely pause to ask:

Is this actually what’s happening?

Is this what they meant?

Is there another possibility?

So here’s the invitation, love:

What would it look like to interrupt the pattern?

To take a breath between perception and conclusion?

To soften certainty into curiosity?

Sometimes it sounds like:

“Hey, something came up for me there — can I check what you meant?”

“I noticed I made an assumption, and I don’t know if it’s true.”

“I’d rather stay in relationship than in reaction — can we talk?”

This isn’t about analyzing everything to death.

It’s about restoring humility.

And about choosing clarity over certainty.

Because assumptions will always come — the mind is built that way.

But we don’t have to build our lives on them.

So today, just this:

Where might you be assuming something based on perception — not truth?

What possibility could open if you were willing to ask?

What relationship — with yourself, with others — might be restored

if you let go of the need to be right… and chose to be real?

Let it be a practice.

A breath.

A return to presence.

And a remembering:

That what’s unspoken isn’t always true.

That we all want to be understood.

And that sometimes, the most radical thing we can do —

is ask.