The Words We Carry: How Labels Can Shape – or Free – Us

The words we hear, and the ones we quietly repeat to ourselves, often shape how we come to see who we are. Sometimes they help us make sense of things. They offer comfort, clarity, and connection. But other times, they can act like a script we didn’t ask for – one that holds us in a smaller version of ourselves than we really are.

We’ve probably all been handed words at some point in our lives. Words like anxious, sensitive, weird, too quiet, or lazy. And when those words are repeated, especially when we’re younger or feeling uncertain, they can become the story we live inside.

For me, the word was shy. It was something I heard from teachers, family members, even strangers and other children. I believed it for years – and to me it meant that I was someone who couldn’t speak up, who wasn’t very sociable, who was always on the outside. It wasn’t until I was gently asked by my coach in my 20s if that word felt true for me that something began to shift. I realised I wasn’t actually shy – I was introverted and sensitive, and I often needed time to observe or process before I felt ready to join in. But because I’d been given that label, I’d kept myself in a shy box. I’d made choices as if that label was the full truth of who I was. I’d tell myself “shy people don’t do that,” and so I wouldn’t. 

Sometimes, that’s how labels work. They can limit what we try, how we show up, and what we believe is possible. We start to act like it’s the only possible story.

But labels can also offer clarity and feel like recognition.  

For many people, finding a word that describes their experience – such as introverted, highly sensitive person, social anxiety, autistic, ADHD (all common in our community) or something else – can feel like the moment everything clicks into place. It can be deeply validating. Like a fog lifting. Finally, there’s a way to explain things. A reason why some situations feel so difficult. A language for what was once just confusion or shame. Often, having a name makes it easier to ask for support or find strategies to help us function in a society that doesn’t seem to have been build with us in mind. And it can connect us with others who understand and remind us of our strengths. 

I don’t always feel comfortable with the word label. It can sound small, or even dismissive, especially when what’s being named feels complex and life-shaping. So here, I’m using the word gently. Not to minimise anyone’s experience, but to reflect on the quiet power of language – and how the words we use can shape the way we see ourselves, and how we move through the world.

The way we phrase things really matters.

The language we use –even in our own heads– can affect how we feel, what we believe, and what feels possible… It can offer comfort and clarity, or it can leave us feeling boxed in. It can help us grow with compassion, or feed an inner voice of judgement. Sometimes, it gives us the strength to ask for support. And sometimes, it quietly tells us to keep ourselves small. 

There’s also something subtle that happens when we turn a feeling into an identity. Saying “I feel socially anxious” might leave room for that feeling to ebb and flow, and shift over time. Saying “I am socially anxious” can feel more fixed – like it’s the whole of who we are. Neither is wrong. But it’s worth noticing the difference. A small shift in language can gently change how we relate to our experiences – and how much space we give ourselves to grow. 

So how do we hold labels that feel true, without letting them define every part of us?

Perhaps it’s about holding them lightly. Letting them help where they help – and letting ourselves grow beyond them when we’re ready. A label can be part of the picture without being the whole canvas. It can be one chapter in the story without writing the ending.

There’s space for all of it. For the relief that comes with having a name for what you’ve lived. For the frustration of feeling boxed in by a word that never quite fit. For the complexity of wanting validation without being reduced. For discovering new ways of seeing yourself, even after years of being told who you are.

What matters is that your story is yours to tell. You get to choose the words that feel right for you – and let go of the ones that don’t. 

You are not a label. But if one helps you feel understood, connected, and at home in yourself, then you are welcome to carry it with care. 

A quiet invitation to reflect:

• Are there words that have shaped how you see yourself?

• Which ones still feel true – and which ones might hold you back, or no longer belong?

• What language helps you feel seen, understood, and free?