You are what you repeat

Your favorite ideas are holding you back

“You're under no obligation to be the same person you were 5 minutes ago.” — Alan Watts

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My girlfriend’s dad is mid-story—for the thousandth time.

Unsurprisingly, we already know this one…

We exchange a glance. She sighs. I consider a strategic bathroom break. Someone tries to change the subject—’Do you want more water?’—but it doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t even notice.

He needs to finish the story.

I’ve seen it so many times. My dad does exactly the same.

Pfff. This is such a grandpa thing.

It’s not just a grandpa thing

My 2-year-old daughter does this too.

She tells stories all day long. But while Grandpa repeats the same ones, hers are always changing.

She’s constantly testing, playing, and trying on new ideas, like costumes. One minute she’s a chef, ‘making dinner’ for mom and dad. Next, she’s an artist, deciding whether crayons or pencils will bring her vision to life.

She experiments with a version of reality, then drops it just as quickly—saying something with total conviction, then abandoning it a second later for something new.

Grandpa, on the other hand? He’s been saying the same thing for decades.

If identity is like clothing, she’s always trying on different outfits. Grandpa has been wearing the same pale blue, off-the-rack suit for so long, he doesn’t even notice the wrinkles and stains anymore.

That’s how it happens. Gradually. What starts as comfort becomes something you can’t let go of.

At first, it’s just your favorite sweater. Then, you’re wearing it every day. Then, one day, you catch yourself digging it out of the trash because you can’t part ways with it.

It’s a people thing

I do it too.

Not with travel stories from the 70s, but with my own ideas.

I have all these thoughts on ‘why some conversations work and others don’t,’ ‘how school kills curiosity,’ and ‘how past experiences shape people,’ and I find ways to stealthily insert them into every conversation I can.

I don’t even notice I’m doing it.

But sometimes, when I step back, I can see it: I keep circling back to the same beliefs, testing them and usually, reinforcing them.

It’s a very human thing to do. With every repetition, we’re basically shaping our future selves.

Every time we drop a belief into conversation, we’re not just sharing it—we’re testing it. Seeing if it still fits us. If someone nods along, agrees, or pushes back, we adjust, double down, or rephrase.

Over time, some beliefs loosen. Others settle in.

What starts as a loose idea gets worn in, gets comfortable.

And then, one day, you realize you haven’t even thought about wearing anything else—you’ve just had the same sweater on for months.

Growing on autopilot

We like to think we’re nothing like those repetitive grandpas.

But this doesn’t start at 65—it starts now.

It’s easy to assume we’re the kind of people who grow and evolve on our own. How we’re innately driven to keep challenging ourselves.

But really, our environments are doing most of the work.

We’re surrounded by new conversations, new opinions, new challenges. Careers keep us sharp. Friends keep us debating. Families keep us adapting.

So what happens when that stops? When the challenges fade—do we keep evolving then, or do we start looping?

The job ends. The kids move out. Friends get busier.

No more constant feedback. No more friction. No more reasons to reconsider.

And just like that, we’re left with the same thoughts, the same stories, the same version of ourselves—looping, unchallenged.

Until one day, we realize we’ve been playing the same story on repeat for years.

And then, you get the news: you have a granddaughter now.

Escape the loop

I repeat myself all the time. Everyone does. That’s not the problem. The problem is when I stop noticing.

When a thought goes from something I’m testing to something I just believe unquestioned. When a story becomes something I am. When I don’t even hear myself saying it anymore.

Repetition is inevitable. But fossilizing isn’t.

You control the rate at which you turn into a grandpa. Here’s how I do it:

• Surrounding myself with people who challenge me. Coaches, friends who can listen, creative sparring partners—people who allow and push me to rephrase, clarify, and think out loud. The right conversations are the fastest way to catch where I’m looping.

• Listening for ‘I am’ and ‘I am not’ statements. Not just in myself, but in others as well. When someone says, “I’m just not good with people” or “I’m bad with money,” I ask myself: Do I have my own versions of this? Spoiler alert, often the answer is yes…

• Read, write, and publish. Reading gives me new inputs. Writing forces me to articulate what I actually think. Publishing exposes those ideas to pushback, discussion, and evolution. It’s how I make sure I don’t get stuck inside my own head.

• Realizing this is already changing it. Noticing the loops, questioning them—that alone shifts things. Awareness makes it impossible to stay exactly the same. Once you’ve seen it, you can’t unsee it.

The sweater test

Next time you catch yourself repeating a story, don’t panic.

It’s actually a good thing—it means you’ve noticed. And just because you’re thinking something doesn’t mean it’s true.

Reinvention is allowed—even mid-story.

So will you keep trying on new sweaters, or wake up one day wearing the same stretched-out, unraveling one again?