Breaking the Script

I knew the words before I spoke them. They were polite, practiced, expected. The kind of lines that roll off the tongue because they have been rehearsed a thousand times. I said what I thought I was supposed to say, and the moment it left my lips I felt a quiet ache.

It was not my voice. It was the script.

We are handed scripts our whole lives. Scripts about who we should be, how we should behave, what success looks like, how leadership is supposed to sound. Scripts that tell us what to study, how to climb the ladder, when to speak and when to stay silent. Some of these scripts are written by family. Others are written by culture. Many are written by fear.

For years, I followed them without question. Until one day I realized the words did not fit. And the longer I kept reciting them, the further I drifted from myself.

Breaking the script is terrifying. It is also necessary.

The Scripts We Inherit

Scripts often start as protection. Families pass down rules about how to survive, how to belong, how to avoid shame. Communities hand us lines about what a “good” life looks like. Workplaces reinforce them with unspoken codes: do not rock the boat, smile at the right time, pretend you have it all together.