01-10-2025 | 10 Minute Read
When Others Tell Your Story:
Staying Grounded in Truth
Have you ever felt misrepresented—like people were telling your story for you, spreading untrue things, or twisting your character to fit their version of events? Few things feel heavier than being misunderstood or spoken about unfairly.
When this happens, it’s not just about the words themselves. False narratives can seep into our self-esteem, make us doubt our own worth, and even change how others perceive us. Friendships can feel strained, trust may feel harder to extend, and we might begin to question our place in our own communities. For those carrying anxious attachment patterns or inner wounds from the past, this can feel even harder—because the fear of abandonment or rejection amplifies the sting of being misrepresented. It’s tempting to defend ourselves endlessly, to fight for control of the narrative. Yet sometimes the deepest courage comes not from proving others wrong, but from staying grounded in who we are, knowing that our integrity will outlast the noise.
Sitting with Joseph’s Story
In Genesis, Joseph’s journey is marked by betrayal, false accusations, and prison walls. His brothers sold him out of jealousy, Potiphar’s wife accused him unjustly, and he found himself in prison despite his faithfulness. For years, his life looked nothing like the dream God had given him.
And yet, Joseph remained grounded. He didn’t let others’ lies define his identity or his future. In time, the very hardships meant to break him became the path that elevated him—leading him from the prison cell to the palace.
Joseph’s story reminds us of a powerful truth: when others speak falsely about you, it often reveals more about their fears, insecurities, or desires for control than it does about your worth. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Being misrepresented can cut into our confidence, make us question our character, and leave us feeling isolated. For those with anxious attachment wounds, the pain of betrayal or falsehood can feel like confirmation of old fears: “I am not enough, I will be abandoned, I cannot trust.” Joseph shows us another way—to root ourselves in integrity, trusting that truth has a way of surfacing in time.
For individuals with narcissistic traits or avoidant attachment patterns, truth often feels threatening. Admitting fault, acknowledging a mistake, or facing their own shortcomings can feel unbearable. So instead, they mold the story—reshaping events to protect their ego, to maintain control, or to preserve a false sense of superiority. Vulnerability feels like exposure, and exposure feels like danger.
This is why such individuals often turn to storytelling as a defense: telling others’ stories, twisting details, or rushing to frame the narrative before anyone else can. That familiar line, “I’m going to tell you now so you don’t hear it from someone else,” may sound like transparency, but it’s often rooted in cowardice, immaturity, and a lack of grounding in self. It’s less about protecting the truth and more about preemptively controlling perception.
Joseph’s story shows us a different way. While others sought to manipulate the narrative around him, he did not play into their immaturity. He stayed rooted in integrity, even when lies spread faster than the truth. And in the end, his character—not their control—determined the outcome.
This invites us into reflection: when people speak falsely about us, it tells us far more about them—their fear of vulnerability, their discomfort with accountability, their lack of self-grounding—than it does about us. Our work, then, is not to wrestle control of the narrative but to stay steady in our truth, trusting that in time, it will rise above the noise.
Walking with the Stoics
Marcus Aurelius once wrote, “If anyone can refute me—show me I’m making a mistake or looking at things from the wrong perspective—I’ll gladly change. But if it’s only abuse or wrong opinion, then it’s their problem.”
The Stoics remind us that other people’s opinions belong to them—not to us. If someone spreads lies, it reflects their character more than ours. What we can control is how we respond: with integrity, steadiness, and clarity of mind.
This doesn’t mean it won’t hurt. Words can shift how we’re perceived by others and how we perceive ourselves. They can strain friendships, reduce opportunities, or leave us second-guessing how people see us. False narratives can be especially painful when they come from places we expected safety—from colleagues who quietly undermine us at work, friends we once trusted, or even family members whose opinions cut the deepest. And for those with anxious attachments, the wound is doubled: the sting of betrayal feels sharper, and the fear of being left out or abandoned can echo loudly.
Stoicism teaches us to separate what’s within our control from what isn’t. We cannot stop people from twisting stories or framing events for their benefit. But we can choose not to internalize their words as truth. We can choose to keep living in alignment with our values, even when others misrepresent us.
Joseph modeled this perfectly—he didn’t chase down every false word spoken against him, nor did he waste energy trying to control perception. He stayed consistent in his values, and in time, his character spoke louder than the accusations. The Stoics would call this living in harmony with nature: letting truth stand on its own, without being consumed by the noise.
The Inner Work
False narratives don’t just shape how others see us—they can begin to shape how we see ourselves. When people twist our story, it can plant seeds of doubt: Am I really who I thought I was? Did I do something wrong? Do others now see me through this distorted lens? That confusion can slowly chip away at our confidence, leaving us questioning our worth and pulling back from connection. For those with anxious attachment wounds, the cycle is even heavier: every misrepresentation feels like proof of rejection, fueling inner narratives of unworthiness.
Over time, this kind of misrepresentation can:
Erode self-esteem — making us believe the lies told about us instead of remembering our true character.
Distort self-perception — leaving us unsure of who we really are, or whether we deserve to be seen differently.
Reduce friendships and connection — because when we fear being misunderstood, it can feel safer to isolate than to risk rejection.
This is why grounding yourself in truth is not just spiritual or philosophical work—it’s essential mental health practice.
Protect your peace. Not every accusation deserves your energy. Sometimes silence and distance preserve your dignity better than defense.
Anchor in your values. Return to what you know is true about yourself, not what others say. Write it down, speak it out, remind yourself daily.
Recognize projection. So often, hurtful words reveal more about the wounds or insecurities of the speaker than the reality of the accused.
Seek safe spaces. Therapy, journaling, or trusted community can help you process the pain and remember that you are more than someone else’s version of you.
When others distort your story, your task is not to control their voices—it’s to stay grounded in your own. To reclaim your self-esteem, to rebuild your trust in yourself, and to remember: your worth is never defined by someone else’s narrative.
Guided Reflection
Being misunderstood or falsely accused is painful—not only because of the words themselves, but because of the ripple effects. False narratives can shift how others perceive us, chip away at our self-confidence, and make us question who we are. They can even strain friendships or change how we move in the world. And for those carrying attachment wounds, it can feel like old fears of rejection or abandonment being reawakened.
But Joseph’s story reminds us that what others intend for harm can still be transformed into good. His integrity carried him through betrayal and prison into purpose and influence. The Stoics echo this lesson: another person’s opinion is theirs to carry, not ours. We cannot control their words, but we can control our response.
Mental health teaches us that when we stay anchored in our values, we safeguard our self-esteem, preserve our relationships, and reclaim our peace. Grounding ourselves in truth allows us to resist the temptation to internalize lies.
When people talk about you unfairly, it tells us far more about them—their fears, insecurities, and need for control—than it does about you. Your work is to stay grounded, to stay authentic, and to keep walking your path with integrity. In time, truth will speak louder than any false narrative, and your character will stand stronger than the stories told against you.
Take a few quiet moments to sit with these questions—allowing yourself to notice how false narratives have shaped you, and how grounding yourself in truth can restore your peace.
Have you ever felt misrepresented or spoken about unfairly? How did it shape your confidence or your relationships?
What truths about yourself do you need to hold onto when others try to rewrite your story?
How might Joseph’s patience—and the Stoic reminder that opinions belong to others, not us—help you protect your peace?
What practices help you rebuild self-esteem and reconnect with others when false narratives tempt you to withdraw?
As you sit with these words, remember that healing doesn’t come all at once—it comes step by step, choice by choice, and moment by moment. May this reflection guide you toward courage in your own journey.