The Story You See—and the One You Don’t: A Reflection on Perspective

Dec 18

Last weekend, I dropped my plans and pivoted when an unexpected, last-minute invitation came my way.

It was an opportunity to go away overnight and stay at a hotel that’s been on my bucket list for years, because of a work function with my husband’s company.

On the surface, and on social media, it looked magical. And it was.

But not without a little mind-drama.

It was a Monday morning conversation with a friend who knew the behind-the-scenes details of the weekend that made me realize there really was more to the story.

She had seen my social media post and gently said, “I did see your post that made it sound like it was all wonderful. I’m always curious and interested in the contrast between what you post publicly and what the rest of the story is.”

She was right.

It was wonderful… and it wasn’t the whole story.

That comment stayed with me, not as criticism but as an invitation.

It got me thinking about the stories we tell, the ones we carry, and the ones we quietly adopt as truth.

Most stories, especially the ones we share publicly, are one-sided. They come from a single vantage point: our own perspective.

What You Didn’t See

Behind that spontaneous weekend away was a bit of internal negotiation.

There was the worry about disappointing my neighbors who had generously offered us their home for the weekend. The mental tug-of-war about changing plans. And the quiet knowing that I wanted a festive, wintery, Hallmark-movie kind of experience—while also knowing my husband doesn’t enjoy Hallmark-movie holiday experiences as much as I do.

We have very different ideas of fun. He would choose a winter hike or a day of snowboarding over a horse-drawn sleigh ride any day.

And if I’m honest, there have been many moments over the years when I’ve set aside my dreams and desires because of that difference. I soften what I want. I make it smaller. Sometimes I don’t even voice my dreams and desires because it feels easier than navigating the mismatch.

That’s a pattern many of us know well.

We assume.
We accommodate.
We preemptively abandon what matters to us in the name of harmony.

This time, I didn’t do that.

A Different Question

Instead of asking myself what everyone else wanted, I paused and asked a different question:

What would my future self be glad I chose?
What memories would she want to have from this weekend?

That question quieted my inner dialogue. It didn’t erase the conflicting emotions, but it gave me a clearer center to stand in.

From that place, I chose to follow through—for me. I let myself want what I wanted. The scenery. The magic. The joy.

And nothing broke.

No one was harmed.
No relationship was damaged.
The world didn’t fall apart.

What emerged instead was a weekend that held both beauty and complexity.

The Teaching Moment: And-Both

This experience became a perfect example of what I like to call And-Both.

It was magical and it was messy.
Joyful and uncomfortable.
A dream weekend and one filled with conflicting thoughts, emotions, and desires.

Both things were true.

We often live as though we must choose one story or the other—either it was wonderful or it was hard. Either we’re confident or we’re uncertain. Either we’re fulfilled or we’re struggling.

But leadership, and self-leadership especially, asks something more nuanced of us.

It asks us to hold space for the And-Both.

Perspective: The Part We Often Miss

This is where perspective, something I coach leaders on often, comes into play.

Perspective invites us to recognize that what we see is never the whole picture. It’s one angle. One lens. One interpretation shaped by our experiences, assumptions, and emotional history.

Think about it:

A stage performance looks effortless, but the audience doesn’t see the hours of rehearsal, the mistakes, or the bloopers behind the curtain.

An oil painting looks complete, but the final image doesn’t reveal the sketch, the false starts, or the layers beneath the surface.

A novel moves us deeply, yet we never see the edits, rewrites, or pages that didn’t make the cut.

Life is no different.

What we see on social media, in leadership roles, even in our own memories is almost always the polished version. Rarely do we see the process. Rarely the inner work.

When we forget this, we tell ourselves incomplete stories. About others. About situations. And often, about ourselves.

Choosing Yourself Is Also Leadership

Here’s the lesson I’m holding onto from this experience:

Honoring what brings you joy doesn’t require justification.
It doesn’t need consensus.
And it doesn’t take anything away from anyone else.

You and another. And-Both.

Choosing yourself, especially when it feels uncomfortable, is not selfish. It’s a form of self-leadership. It’s how we build trust with ourselves. It’s how we create lives that feel aligned rather than managed.

And it’s how we learn to live more honestly in the And-Both.