Self Awareness Series: The Power of an Origin Story

The power of a good origin story should not be underestimated. Whether it belongs to an individual or an organization, understanding how someone or something came to be who or what they are gives a depth of insight that can entirely change how we view, relate to, or value a person, a business, or a mission.

Two films come to mind — vastly different in tone, but both stories that stuck with me and left me thinking on a deeper level about how the forces that shape a person directly impact their attitudes, their behaviors, and those around them.

The first is a positive story: It's a Wonderful Life. I watch this film every year and have grown not only familiar with, but genuinely fond of, the tale of George Bailey. George was a hometown guy, born and raised in Bedford Falls — a fictional small town set in the early 1900s, where everyone knows each other by name, from the mailman to the town police officer. He runs the local Savings & Loan, which his father ran before him. At first glance, it reads like a straightforward story of family business succession. But as we learn, George was a dreamer — a big dreamer. He had plans. He was restless, with a constant itch to explore, to travel, to experience everything his imagination could conceive of. Life, however, had other ideas. Without recapping the whole story, I'll simply say this: George is not a privileged kid who inherited the family business and coasted. We learn about the tragedies, the frustrations, the repeatedly short-circuited pursuits that together shaped the complex man he became — and the profound impact of his life on everyone around him. Who he is cannot be fully seen, or related to, without understanding what made him that person.

A far less feel-good origin story is Joker. The 2019 film offered a compelling backstory to one of the most disturbing characters in the superhero genre, the Joker, from the Batman series. Watching a story of abuse, neglect, trauma, and mental illness — where the villain's origins are laid bare — did something unexpected: it softened me toward the character. Not to the point of sympathy for his actions, but enough to make me reflect on how often we see only the current presentation of a person, without ever knowing why they are the way they are. Why they react the way they do. What that might mean for how we engage with them.

Movies, of course, are built around dramatic stories. Most people living everyday lives don't think of themselves as having an origin story — there's nothing cinematic about it. We just are who we are. But every person runs far deeper than their surface.

Consider the people you encounter daily. Sometimes what looks like an overreaction to something small is anything but small to the person experiencing it.

A colleague sends a quick message about a shared project — nothing urgent — and doesn't hear back for a few hours. For most people, this barely registers. But for someone who grew up in a household where being ignored or dismissed was a recurring experience, silence can feel loaded. By the time the response finally comes, they've already mentally rehearsed a confrontation, drafted and deleted a follow-up message, or decided the other person must be upset with them. When their colleague replies — cheerfully, having simply been in back-to-back meetings — the internal storm has already passed through, even if nothing showed on the surface.

A coworker watches a colleague handle a series of technical questions confidently in a meeting, then says afterward, genuinely: "I didn't realize how much you knew about this — you were really impressive in there." To most people, this lands exactly as intended: a sincere compliment from someone who was paying attention. But for someone who grew up in a home where praise was rare and usually came wrapped in a qualifier — "that's good, but..." or "I didn't think you had it in you" — the phrase "I didn't realize" is the only part that registers. Suddenly the compliment becomes evidence of prior underestimation. They smile and say thank you, but walk back to their desk quietly stewing, turning the comment over and over, looking for a slight buried inside a sentence that contained no slight at all.

A colleague sets a box of donuts or homemade cookies in the break room. For most people, it's a small, pleasant moment. But for someone who grew up in a home where food was scarce, tightly controlled, or used as a reward, the sight of free, abundant food available to anyone can stir something unexpectedly emotional. Some might take more than they need. Some might feel an odd guilt enjoying it. Others might feel a warmth toward that colleague that seems entirely out of proportion to a box of donuts.

In each of these moments, a deeply ingrained trigger fires in response to something completely benign — or even positive. The reaction might leave onlookers thinking, what on earth was that about?

The colleague spiraling over an unanswered email may have spent half the day distracted, made small errors in their work, or been short with others — all traced back to a silence that meant nothing. The person who bristled at a compliment may be quietly sabotaging themselves, missing out on raises or promotions because of insecurities that no one around them can see. The person who always claims the leftovers at the company lunch gets talked about behind their back — without anyone knowing the history that drives it.

Often, we don't know the origin stories of the people around us. And just as often, we're unaware of how deeply our own history shapes our daily responses. We operate on autopilot, not stopping to examine why certain situations unsettle us, or why certain people get under our skin in ways we can't quite explain.

But that awareness, when we cultivate it, is genuinely powerful. Understanding our own triggers and motivations makes us better communicators, better partners, better parents, and more grounded leaders. And when we can not only share ideas but also reveal something true and meaningful about ourselves, we create connection at a different level entirely — one that engages people's emotions, not just their intellect. That kind of connection moves people in ways that information alone never can.

In part two of this article, I'll explore how identifying and sharing your own origin story can make a practical difference in both your personal and professional life.