I am…
“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.” – Carl Jung
“I am…”
These two words hold immense power. And danger.
Power to define our reality. To shape how we experience ourselves in the world.
Danger to limit that experience. To confine us inside invisible walls.
These words can form a cage—or a key.
When do we decide who we are?
Is it a conscious decision?
Why do we become so bound to the definitions we carry?
What happens when we begin to question them?
How might our lives change if we tried new endings to that sentence?
The Foundation
Jung scholar James Hollis writes that as children, we live without a strong sense of self. So instead, we believe:
“I am as I am treated.”
To survive, we adapt to the circumstances we’re born into. We conform to the rules and roles of our families, cultures, and societies.
This conformity shapes the patterns of our adult lives. Like a strong subconscious current, these beliefs carry us for years—often decades—guiding us along a path we never consciously chose.
These powerful beliefs are rooted in the disempowered, often traumatic, world of the child. They are shaped in a time when our choices were limited—and our survival depended on fitting in.
Even as we grow into adulthood, we don’t see the world on our own terms.
We see it through the lens that was shaped for us.
It’s only when we start digging below the surface—beneath the stories we tell ourselves—that we begin to see what’s really there. That many of our core beliefs weren’t conscious choices at all.
As Hollis writes:
“Whoever denies this invasive power of history is living unconsciously, sleeping in history’s still unmade bed. Whoever acknowledges it is humbled, and opens the door to the genuine possibility of change.”
The Two Gremlins
Hollis describes a choice we face every day.
“Each morning the two gremlins of fear and lethargy sit at the foot of our bed and smirk.”
Fear warns us of the unknown. The challenge of becoming something more.
It pushes us back into the safety of routine, conventional thinking, and the familiar.
Lethargy seduces us with comfort. “Kick back. Chill out. Take it easy. Worry about it tomorrow.”
Most days, we don’t consciously make that choice.
We avoid fear because it brings anxiety. We choose comfort. We go through the motions. We settle for “good enough.”
But the unfathomable randomness—and miraculousness—of our existence demands more of us.
It demands that we wake up.
That we challenge the very definitions of who we are and what we believe we’re capable of.
That we shake off our cultural hypnosis.
That we open our eyes to see through the illusion of comfort and the false promise of certainty.
Because there is no time to waste.
This is a call to arms for anyone brave enough to believe in their own greatness.
Rewiring for Change
The beliefs we attach to “I am…” harden over time.
They form deep grooves in our minds, and soon they run on autopilot.
But we now know—we can change those grooves.
Our behaviors, our choices, and the thoughts we think every day shape the very structure of our brains.
This is neuroplasticity in action.
The reason lethargy wins so often is that it requires no effort. The current already flows through those well-worn subconscious pathways.
But when we choose discomfort, fear, and uncertainty, we fire new signals.
We awaken new regions of the brain. We open new doors.
At first, change happens chemically. Those new signals give us a short burst of confidence. “Hey, maybe I can do this.”
But chemistry doesn’t last.
For transformation to stick, we need repetition. Intention. Practice.
Every. Single. Day.
As those signals fire again and again, they begin to form new structures in the mind. Over time, these new beliefs become more than ideas—they become embodied.
This is how we change.
This is how we start to complete the sentence “I am…” in new and powerful ways.
The Snowball Effect
“I am a triathlete.”
That sentence would’ve felt absurd to me seven years ago. I had never even run a 5K.
This summer, I’ll complete my sixth triathlon.
And what’s more incredible—I’m now leading a team of over 40 amazing individuals. Most of them have never done a triathlon before.
But something in them said yes. Yes to the fear, the discomfort, the unknown.
Yes to a challenge that would demand more of them—and reveal something new in return.
We’re raising money for epilepsy research, and that’s meaningful.
But it’s the personal transformation each athlete undergoes that truly inspires me.
Committing to this race has forces all of us to change our daily habits.
Yesterday, one of our teammates, Ryan, said he almost stayed in bed. But at the last minute, he got up and joined our group run—his first mile jogged in over a decade.
He gave the middle finger to the gremlin of lethargy.
Another teammate, Eric, swapped his Friday night bourbon and TV for water and an early bedtime—so he could join us for a sunrise run.
Two small decisions. But powerful ones that start to reshape the brain.
They build momentum.
They change the story.
This is how it begins.
Not with grand declarations, but with daily choices that challenge our old limits.
With each action, our aperture expands. We start to ask:
What else am I capable of that I never believed before?
The Path Opens
The triathlon is just one example. But the principle is universal.
For real growth to happen, we must step into discomfort.
So much of our lives are governed by fear.
Fear of failure. Of judgment. Of change.
As Hollis writes:
“Standing up to our fear is perhaps the most critical decision necessary in the governance of life and the recovery of our soul’s agenda in the second half of life.”
But the path forward rarely appears all at once.
In my experience, there is no bolt of lightning or grand epiphany.
It’s more like discovering an overgrown trail out of the woods.
At first, it’s hard to see. But once found, it beckons us onward.
Each courageous step creates a little more clarity. A little more confidence.
We begin to trust the process—even if we don’t know where it leads.
The steps become habits. The habits become a new way of being.
And over time, we awaken to the truth:
“I am capable of anything.”
– Coach Kris
P.S. The topic this week led me back to the seminal work of Jame Hollis and his interpretations of Carl Jung’s work. Daniel Huberman, who inspired this week’s exploration of “I am” in a different conversation, interviewed Hollis and this conversation is a treasure chest of inspiration and wisdom.
PSS… The Neuroscience of Neuroplasticity.
