Tell Me Your Story

One of the most illuminating truths I’ve come to believe is this: we’re all living inside a story. You, me, your ever-loving mother-in-law—even my adorable 5-year-old, Tucker. Yep, I’m already noticing the clues come together. But here’s the catch—more often than not, it’s a story we didn’t consciously choose.

Somewhere along the line—usually in those delicate early years—we picked up a narrative that helped us feel safe, seen, and secure. It was adaptive. It got us through. But over time, what once protected us starts to confine us. That story becomes the air we breathe… and we forget we’re even breathing it.

That’s where the Enneagram comes in—not as a personality test or a trendy self-help tool, but as a kind of sacred mirror. It reflects back the core narrative you’ve been living out, often without realizing it. And not just any narrative—one that, while once helpful, is now keeping you stuck.

Each Type Tells a Different Story:

Type One: “If I don’t get it right, I’m not worthy.” The pressure to be good becomes exhausting, and the voice of the inner critic never lets up.

Type Two: “If I’m not needed, I’ll be forgotten.” So they give and give, quietly hoping someone will see them behind all the helping.

Type Three: “If I’m not successful, I won’t be loved.” They hustle hard, wearing masks of achievement, even when the soul underneath is aching.

Type Four: “Something’s missing in me.” They long for authenticity, often haunted by the feeling that they’re just… not quite enough.

Type Five: “The world takes too much, so I’ll retreat.” They guard their energy like gold, believing safety lies in self-sufficiency.

Type Six: “If I’m not prepared, everything will fall apart.” They seek certainty in a world that offers very little of it.

Type Seven: “Pain isn’t safe, so I’ll chase what’s next.” They run fast toward the light, afraid if they stop, the darkness will catch up.

Type Eight: “Only the strong survive.” They armor up, not realizing their true strength lives in tenderness.

Type Nine: “My presence disrupts peace.” So they go quiet, fading into the background, even when their voice is desperately needed.

But here’s the thing: once we can name our story, we can question it. We can soften our grip. We can remember we’re not just characters—we’re also authors.

The Enneagram doesn’t tell you who you are. It helps you wake up to the story you’ve been living… and maybe, just maybe, imagine a truer one.

And that, my friend, is where the healing begins.

Remember, I’m your girl if you need some help with the editing process!

Love & Gratitude,

Katie