Feeling lost?
I hate getting lost. Despise it.
Maybe it stems from deep-rooted memories of childhood misadventures, my mom and I floundering, cursing MapQuest, and those unwieldy road atlases as we navigated the endless sprawl of Texas. I’ve lost count of how many softball tournaments, birthday parties, or wrong turns left us stranded, but each time I felt it—a knot of frustration.
I have a theory that some of us inherit faulty internal compasses (thanks, Mom), so if I feel like I should go right, I now go left. When someone asks me for directions, I can only laugh. If I’m feeling brave enough to help, my landmarks are more likely burger joints than street names. Yet ironically, I once scored a 98 on the Air Force Officer Qualifying Test in navigation. I remember my cadre's bewilderment as I admitted I had no intention of flying. “Uh, when I’m lost, I call my dad or look for mountains,” I explained. “Please, someone tell the test-makers there’s a fatal flaw here.”
During deployment, I prepared myself for rocket attacks or missiles. But my biggest fear? Getting lost. White-knuckling a Toyota minivan named Dessy across the United Arab Emirates for dignitary meetings filled me with anxiety. Sure enough, I got lost—but I quickly found a co-worker with a sense of direction and sprang for a bootleg GPS. Sometimes survival is finding someone who knows the way and buying a little data.
To this day, I hate that feeling of being lost—the helplessness, the frustration, the lost time. And it made me wonder: where, or when, do you feel lost? Is it in a new role or season of life? A relationship that feels murky? Maybe you’ve hit a standstill on a goal you’ve poured yourself into.
But here’s a question: when you’re feeling lost, what story are you telling yourself? What inner narrative is playing out in those moments of disorientation? Neuroscience tells us that stories shape us, anchoring ideas in our memory and making them resonate. Research shows that when we frame experiences as stories, they activate multiple brain areas—stirring emotion, triggering sensory memories, embedding themselves deeper into our minds. This makes our stories powerful, for better or worse.
Recently, I met author Nir Eyal, whose work inspired me to find tools to keep moving toward my goals. Nir talks about how we make “traction” versus falling into “distraction.” When I asked about his next project, he said he was studying beliefs—how the stories we tell ourselves shape whether we take that first step, keep going, or derail entirely. (See my latest article for practical tips from his book Indistractable.)
So, as we round out the year, I want to encourage you. If you’re feeling lost, I’m sorry; I’ve been there. But now, take a moment to pause. Look at the story you’re telling yourself. Is it one of frustration, fear, or possibility? Most importantly, what story do you want to tell? What narrative will carry you forward, giving you the traction you need to turn lost time into learned wisdom?
With Love,
Liz
