Most of us have heard the saying that every seven years you’re a completely new person because your body has replaced most of its cells.

Whether that’s literally true or not, our bodies are remarkable. They know how to repair a cut, heal a broken bone and constantly renew parts of us without us having to think about it. Even our skin is constantly renewing itself.

Our minds, however, don’t work quite the same way.

The beliefs we carry about ourselves; who we are, what we’re like, what we’re good at, what we deserve, don’t automatically regenerate with time. Many of those beliefs weren’t even ours to begin with. They were handed to us by parents, teachers, friends, experiences or difficult moments in our lives.

If we never stop to question them, they quietly shape how we move through the world.

They show up as self-sabotage.

As imposter syndrome.

As people-pleasing.

As anxiety.

Does any of that sound familiar?

I know it does for me. By the time I was in my twenties, I felt like I could have ticked every one of those boxes.

Recently I watched The Devil Wears Prada 2. I’m a sucker for those aul classic stories where someone gets knocked off their perch before rising to the challenge and coming out on top.

But whatever you think of the film itself, theres one part of the story line that rings true to reality.

When Andy returned to her old workplace, all of those old fears and beliefs that she had from years before and thought she had overcome, came rushing back. Her confidence disappeared. She physically made herself smaller. She stepped back when standing in the big scary office. She started questioning herself all over again.

It reminded me how powerful our old stories can be. Even when we’ve grown, achieved things and become someone new, our brains can still drag us back into old versions of ourselves if we’re not paying attention.

Thankfully, that’s not where Andy stayed.

She was reminded of who she was, what she’d already overcome and what she was capable of. She challenged those old beliefs instead of accepting them as truth.

I see this pattern in coaching all the time.

And if I’m honest, I see it in myself too.

Leaving the beauty industry after nearly twenty years to become a coach was one of the biggest decisions I’ve ever made. It was exciting but it was also terrifying.

There are still days when I wonder what on earth possessed me to believe I could completely change careers at 38.

Then I stop.

I look at the facts instead of the fear.

I’ve completed my training.

I’ve invested in learning.

I’ve helped people.

I’ve built something that genuinely matters to me.

The evidence supports my ability far more than my imposter syndrome ever will.

That’s something I encourage my clients to do too.

When a thought pops up like, “I’m not good enough,” or “People don’t really like me,” or “I’m a terrible parent,” I ask:

What’s the evidence?

Not the feeling.

Not the fear.

The evidence. The facts.

Our brains are brilliant at protecting us, but they’re not always brilliant at telling us the truth.

The beliefs you’ve carried for years may have helped you survive at one point in your life. But that doesn’t mean they still deserve to shape your future.

Sometimes the most important growth isn’t becoming someone new.

It’s finally seeing yourself as you’ve been all along.