Why the Story You Tell Yourself Matters
The science of self-talk and why your expectations become reality
If you were a kid in the 80s, odds were good that the ABC Afterschool Special was basically your babysitter and life coach wrapped into one. And when my parents needed a break, they had two moves: kick me outside or park me in front of the TV. With seven channels and limited options, those specials kept me quiet and even taught me a thing or two.
One episode in particular stuck with me. A kid with zero confidence meets a mentor who gives him a magic word: NACI. Say it, and you'll find strength you didn't know you had. The kid starts repeating it, tries harder, performs better, and starts believing in himself.
Turns out, NACI was just "I CAN" spelled backwards. No magic. No superpowers. Just belief.
I think about that NACI kid a lot. It's been over 40 years and he's still in my head because it speaks to something we all know but rarely think about: the person who talks to you the most is you. And what you convince yourself to believe has enormous power over what you actually accomplish.
Whether you think you can, or you think you can’t – you’re right.
Henry Ford
Psychologists have names for this phenomenon, backed by decades of research.
So this week, let's talk about self-talk and self-efficacy, why they work, how your expectations shape reality, and how to make your 'what ifs' work for you instead of against you.
The Sculptor and the Clay
Humans have always known that belief can be a kind of magic. Long before researchers wrote about confidence or self-efficacy, storytellers explained it through myth.
One myth talks about Pygmalion, a sculptor who carved a statue so beautiful he fell in love with it. His belief was so strong that Venus brought the statue, Galatea, to life. Another tells of a Golem, a clay creature animated by a rabbi's words. It lived, but only within the limits its maker imagined for it.
Those two stories became shorthand for psychological truths. The Galatea Effect is when belief in yourself raises performance. The Golem Effect is when you limit yourself to only what you think you're supposed to be.
You don't need marble or clay to see it. You do this to yourself every day.
"What if I'm not smart enough?" "What if I fail?" "What if people see through me?"
Repeat them enough times and they become instructions. Not because the words are accurate, but because your behavior starts to match them.
You avoid the risk. You stay small. You quit before anyone notices you're struggling.
Expectation becomes behavior. Behavior becomes reality. One uplifts, the other limits. And both show just how powerful belief can be.
The Science Behind the Magic
Psychologists have spent decades proving that belief changes performance in measurable ways.
Albert Bandura, a psychologist who basically made a career out of proving the NACI kid was onto something, called it self-efficacy. Your belief that you can handle a specific challenge. People who believe they can stick with problems longer, focus better, and recover faster when things go sideways.
When you expect success, your brain's reward systems fire up before you even start. Dopamine kicks in. Attention widens. Effort follows. When you expect failure, your body does the opposite. Energy drops. Attention narrows. You start conserving resources for the disappointment you think is coming.
Organizational psychologist Dov Eden ran an experiment in the Israeli Defense Forces in the 1980s. He told some commanders their soldiers had unusually high potential. Nothing else changed. Same training, same resources. Yet those units outperformed the others.
Expectation had quietly rewritten effort.
When I was in third grade, they tested me to see if I was "gifted." I don't remember the test itself. But they told me I passed. (Humble brag.)
And ever since, I've carried this belief that I'm smart. That I was indeed gifted.
But was I? Or did the school system run their own Eden experiment and I just happened to be on the receiving end of high expectations?
I'll never know. But it doesn't matter. The label did its job. I acted like someone who could figure things out. And that became true.
Later studies in classrooms and offices showed the same pattern. Treat people as capable and they rise to meet it. Treat them as unlikely and they fulfill that prophecy too.
Your brain uses belief as a signal to decide how much to invest. The stronger the belief, the stronger the signal.
Becoming Your Own Galatea
Change happens when you first recognize that something actually needs to change. When you pay attention to a behavior that isn't serving you.
If something goes wrong, what's the first thing you say to yourself? When you're staring down uncertainty, what voice shows up?
Most of us have a running litany of self-doubt going. "I'm terrible at this." "Everyone else has it figured out." "Don't drop the ball, DEREK!" The problem isn't that these thoughts show up. It's that they run unchallenged.
So the next time one appears, ask: Would I say this to someone I actually like? Would I be this mean to another person?
You don't have to pretend everything's fine or cover your problems with motivational Post-its. But you can reframe things:
"I can't do this" becomes "I get to figure this out"
"What if I fail?" becomes "I wonder what I can learn from this"
"I'm not the kind of person who..." becomes "I haven't been the kind of person who... yet"
Small shift. Big difference. This kind of conscious attention to self-talk helps rewire your brain. And the more you do it, the more it works. Each small win becomes data. Data becomes belief. Belief becomes behavior.
Not all thoughts carry equal weight. The heavy hitters are the identity statements. "I'm not creative." "I'm bad with people." "I'm not meant for this."
Those aren't observations. They're verdicts. And verdicts shape everything that comes after.
Spot them. Question them. Replace them with something that leaves room to grow.
Conclusion
Your brain doesn't know the difference between the story you tell yourself and reality. And since you're the one narrating all day anyway, you might as well choose a better story.
That NACI kid didn't have magic powers. He just had four letters that convinced him to try. Trying turned into doing. Doing turned into believing. And belief became its own kind of magic.
And the good news is that you don't need a backwards acronym or a mentor or a study to prove you're allowed to believe in yourself. You just need to catch the story before it calcifies into fact.
The Galatea Effect and the Golem Effect aren't just psychology terms. They're running in real time, right now, in your head. One lifts you. The other limits you.
So choose the story that makes you move forward. Because you're listening either way.
Ever forward.
— Derek (aka Chief Rabbit)
Oh one more thing…
When I am not writing this weekly(ish) newsletter, I spend time helping people make sense of this wild new AI world. I even gave a talk at Seattle AI Week last week to a packed house.
Since folks keep asking me for more, I’m now offering small workshops that walk through the tools (and others) step by step.
So if AI still feels like alphabet soup or you are wondering why people keep talking about a steak sauce, sign up for the next one. In under an hour, you’ll go from “Where do I even start?” to “Wait… I can actually do this.”
Enjoying Chief Rabbit?
This newsletter is free and always will be. But if you’d like to support this work, you can. You’ll get monthly Q&As, vote on topics, stickers, and help keep this ad-free.
You can also follow me on Threads where I sound off on all sorts of nonsense OR LinkedIn where I tend to be a touch more serious.
Also, thanks for being someone who reads to the bottom of the page, you’re a special human.