When I first met Rashida, she introduced herself with a disclaimer: “I’m a little intense.” She said it with a grimace, as if the label left a bad taste in her mouth.
I replied, “Good to know. What else should I know about you?”
She told me she was a mother, a recent pickleball enthusiast, and a leader in risk and compliance at a Fortune 500 company. I thought maybe such a role demanded intensity, but I still asked, “Where does that ‘intense’ label come from?”
She didn’t have to think long. “When I left my last company, my boss made an offhand comment. He said, ‘You can be a bit intense, Rashida, but we’ll sure miss you.’”
That comment stuck. Hard. But it wasn’t the first time Rashida had heard it: “My parents are Egyptian, and I’m the youngest of eight kids. My brothers and sisters would call me ‘too much’ or ‘over the top’ all throughout my childhood.” Over the years, those words had lingered, shaping how she saw herself. Even as a successful leader, that “intense” label hovered over her. Her boss’s comment had brought it all back.
Fast-forward six months and Rashida was stepping into a senior lead compliance role — a big step up. She felt compelled to introduce herself in a way that preemptively softened any judgment. She’d say, “I can be intense at times,” as though she needed to apologize for being herself. As though her invisible scar defined her.
Once a label sticks, it feels real. Take “I’m bad at public speaking.” It’s not because you’re biologically incapable of forming coherent sentences in front of people, but maybe on one occasion you stumbled over your words, felt embarrassed, and that experience turned into an identity. You kept replaying the story until it became the headline of your personal narrative.
Why do we do this to ourselves?
Because your brain loves shortcuts. They’re efficient. You label things to make sense of them faster: hot/cold, safe/dangerous, success/failure. But you don’t just label the world around you. You slap those labels on yourself, too. Most of your labels are lazy shortcuts your brain took back when you didn’t know better. Others are ones you’ve picked up along the way and casually stuck to yourself without a second thought: “I’m bad at this,” “I’m such a procrastinator,” or “I’m a terrible communicator.”
Every time you say, “I am …” you’re sticking a label on yourself — one your brain interprets as permanent and unchangeable. But that’s the language of a fixed mindset, one that convinces you that your abilities are set in stone, that who you are today is all you’ll ever be.
But that’s not true.
Peeling off your self-limiting labels
Like burrs on a hike, once a label latches onto you, they’re a pain to get rid of. But they’re not permanent. They’re not tattooed on your soul, no matter how much they might feel that way. Labels like “incompetent,” “flawed,” or “screwup” can be peeled off, examined, challenged, and rewritten.
Think back to the labels you might’ve been given as a child. Maybe someone called you “stubborn.” But was it really stubbornness, or was it determination, which has a whole different energy? Maybe a teacher labeled you as “shy,” but what if you were actually observant and thoughtful? Or when your ex-partner called you “indecisive,” was it actually that you value careful deliberation?
Whatever labels you’ve been carrying, you can peel them off. Challenge them. Rewrite them. Replace “I’m not confident” with “I’m learning to be more confident.” Swap “I’m not a leader” for “I’m figuring out what leadership looks like for me.” It might sound like wordplay, but it’s not. These shifts are tiny rebellions. They tell your brain (and anyone listening) that you’re not stuck. You’re evolving.
Now, I’m not claiming you can radically change how you see yourself just by swapping a label. Peeling back deeply rooted labels takes time and effort — and sometimes therapy. What I do know is that every time you loosen the stickiness of a label, you create space — space to reclaim who you really are, and who you want to be.
It might sound like wordplay, but it’s not. These shifts are tiny rebellions. They tell your brain (and anyone listening) that you’re not stuck. You’re evolving.
For example, I asked Rashida to reframe how she introduced herself. Instead of “intense,” I suggested “passionate.” Her face lit up. “You know, for so long, I clung to that ‘intense’ tag, and it always felt negative. It made me doubt myself, and I almost didn’t take this job because of it. But you’re right. It’s not intensity, it’s pure passion! I’m deeply committed to my work, and I care about doing the right thing.”
That shift in wording wasn’t even about the word itself, it was the start of shifting how she saw herself. Suddenly, she wasn’t “too much.” She was driven. Committed. Exactly the kind of person you’d want leading compliance — someone who doesn’t brush off the details because she cares.
I love Meg’s story, too. Ever since she was young, Meg was anxious. As a child, her grandfather joked that her curly hair was from worrying too much. Her dad called her “Moody Meg,” as if her anxiety was her defining feature. For years, she wore that label like a name tag: Hi, I’m Anxious.
But as Meg grew older and leaned into her writing, she had a powerful realization. The same imagination that fueled her anxiety also fueled her creativity. She didn’t get rid of the label; she reclaimed it. She said, “I’m done with condemning my anxiety and saying it should go away … it’s a big part of why I am who I am and what I’ve been able to accomplish and give to the world.”
And what did she give to the world? Stories that have helped millions of people understand their own emotions. Meg is Meg LeFauve, one of the screenwriters for Pixar’s Inside Out and Inside Out 2, beloved animated movies about identity, self-acceptance, and learning to embrace all the parts of ourselves. Meg reclaimed Moody Meg as a creative trailblazer teaching children and adults about the world of emotions.
Meg and Rashida didn’t “fix” themselves. They didn’t need fixing. They reclaimed their labels. They realized the words weren’t the problem — it was the meaning they’d attached to them.
This article Your brain loves labels — even when they limit your potential is featured on Big Think.
