Épisodes

  • Episode 260: “The Still Voice You Silenced”

    Episode 260: “The Still Voice You Silenced”
    Jan 14 2026
    Welcome back to Infinite Threads. I’m your host, Bob.There is a moment—sometimes fleeting, sometimes persistent—when you know something deep in your bones……but you override it.You tell yourself:“That’s not practical.”“I’m probably overreacting.”“It’s not the right time.”“Other people won’t understand.”“This must be fear, not intuition.”“I’m too sensitive.”“I need to toughen up.”“I should just let it go.”And so, that quiet knowing—the still, unmistakable voice within you—gets dismissed.Not because it was wrong.But because it was inconvenient.That voice is the one we’re talking about today.The one you’ve silenced, not with cruelty, but with survival.Because somewhere along the way, you learned that listening to it cost too much.That it could make you feel like an outsider.That it might cause conflict.That it could lead to rejection.Or disappointment.Or change you weren’t ready to face.So instead of trusting it, you tucked it away.You ignored the unease in your gut.You smiled when something felt wrong.You stayed when everything in you said go.You agreed when your heart whispered no.You walked past the door that opened—because you were afraid of where it might lead.This voice doesn’t leave just because you stop listening.It retreats.It grows quiet.It waits for the next moment when it might be heard.And when you still don’t listen, it doesn’t punish you.But it does mourn.Because silencing your still voice isn’t just about denying truth.It’s about distancing yourself from the part of you that knows.Not in the logical, strategic, data-driven sense.But in the sacred, soul-deep, body-rooted sense.This kind of knowing doesn’t shout.It pulses.It vibrates.It sits behind your eyes in moments of hesitation.It tightens in your chest when something’s off.It calms you when something’s right—before you can explain why.But because this voice doesn’t come with evidence, we’re trained to dismiss it.We were taught to value certainty over honesty.To prioritize politeness over presence.To reward compliance over clarity.So we second-guess ourselves constantly.We go to friends for advice, hoping they’ll say what we already feel.We google symptoms instead of trusting our body’s whisper.We ask for signs while ignoring the one inside us blinking red.We search for reassurance from every source—except the one within.It’s not your fault.This is how most of us were conditioned.And often, there was a very real cost to listening.Maybe when you spoke your truth as a child, you were shamed.Maybe you were told to toughen up, be quiet, stop making waves.Maybe when you said something wasn’t right, no one listened.Or worse—they listened, and still chose to do nothing.So you learned to internalize.To filter.To hesitate.To make yourself palatable.You didn’t silence your still voice because you were weak.You did it to stay safe.But now?You’re allowed to reclaim it.And that starts—not by cranking up the volume, but by lowering the noise.It starts with one brave act:Admit what you already know.That’s the practice today:Write down one thing you’ve known all along—but stopped admitting.Not to fix it.Not to act on it.Not to justify it.Just to let it live in the light again.Maybe it’s something about your health.Your relationship.Your job.Your sense of purpose.Your identity.Your grief.Your joy.Maybe it’s a truth you’ve carried since childhood, one that no one else saw—but you did.Maybe it’s a whisper that never left you, even when you tried to forget it.Write it down.Let it breathe.Because truth is like a plant kept in the dark.It doesn’t die—it bends.It twists toward whatever sliver of light it can find.Your truth has been doing that inside you.And now, you have the chance to place it in sunlight.You don’t have to tell anyone else.You don’t have to make it make sense.But you do have to stop pretending you don’t know.Because every time you deny your knowing, it erodes your trust in yourself.And you deserve to trust yourself again.You deserve to return to the part of you that sees clearly—even when others don’t.That still voice?It was never gone.It was waiting.It’s not angry.It’s not bitter.It’s just relieved that you’re ready to listen.You can begin again today.By honoring that one truth you never stopped knowing.I’ll see you next time.Infinite Threads is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Infinite Threads at bobs618464.substack.com/subscribe
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    8 min
  • Episode 259: “Borrowed Beliefs”

    Episode 259: “Borrowed Beliefs”
    Jan 13 2026
    Welcome back to Infinite Threads. I’m your host, Bob.There’s something subtle that happens when you grow up in any environment—family, community, faith, country.You start to absorb the world not just through experience, but through repetition.You hear the same phrases.The same warnings.The same judgments.The same comforts.And over time, those phrases become part of you.Not because you examined them and chose them—but because you didn’t know you could question them.That’s what we’re exploring today:The quiet power of beliefs that were never really yours.They’re what I call borrowed beliefs.Beliefs inherited, absorbed, passed down—not by force, but by familiarity.It’s the kind of belief that says:“This is just how things are.”“This is the way it’s always been.”“This is what good people do.”“This is what success looks like.”“This is what love means.”“This is what God wants.”“This is what people like us believe.”It doesn’t have to be malicious.It doesn’t have to be oppressive.Sometimes it’s even wrapped in love.But repetition isn’t the same as truth.And tradition isn’t the same as trust.Because if we’re not careful, we start building our entire lives on foundations we never inspected.You can live decades believing things about yourself, about others, about the world—without ever realizing that belief wasn’t chosen. It was inherited.That doesn’t make it wrong.But it does make it worth questioning.Let’s pause there.This is delicate terrain.Because many of us were taught that questioning means disrespecting.That to doubt something handed down by parents, or spiritual leaders, or ancestors, or culture—is to be ungrateful. Or arrogant. Or dangerous.But that’s not true.Questioning a belief doesn’t dishonor your past.It honors your present.It says:“I trust myself enough to ask why I believe what I believe.”And that’s not rebellion.That’s responsibility.Because beliefs shape choices.And choices shape lives.So when you walk through the world on autopilot, guided by borrowed beliefs, you may find yourself trapped in roles that never fit, chasing goals that never nourished you, fearing things that never threatened you.Let me give you a simple example.Maybe you were told that emotions are weakness.So you became stoic.You learned to tuck your tears away.You equated vulnerability with failure.You raised your children to be “tough.”Not because you’re cold…but because someone you loved once believed that too.Maybe they believed it because their world demanded it.But does yours?Another example:Maybe you grew up with the belief that you had to earn love.That love was conditional on obedience, performance, or perfection.So even now, as an adult, you overextend yourself.You seek validation.You stay quiet when something hurts you.You feel guilty resting.Because some deep part of you still believes that love is not a given. It’s a wage.That’s a belief worth questioning.Because your worth doesn’t depend on your usefulness.Here’s another one:Maybe you were taught that forgiveness means forgetting.Or that anger is bad.Or that people can’t change.Or that love is control.Maybe you were taught that you’re broken.That you’re too much.That you’re not enough.Maybe you were taught to fear people who look different than you.Or think differently.Or believe differently.Maybe you were taught that asking questions makes you a threat.Or that your body is a problem.Or that your joy is selfish.Or that your dreams are childish.None of these beliefs are universal truths.They are inherited frameworks.And when you leave them unexamined, they become cages.But when you look at them—honestly, patiently—they reveal their origins.And once you see the origin, you regain the power to choose.This week’s practice is gentle but powerful:Ask,“Where did I learn that?”any time you notice a judgment—about yourself, or someone else.Not to scold yourself.Not to judge the source.Just to see.Where did I learn that?That I’m not creative?That I need to be productive to be valuable?That conflict is dangerous?That I can’t speak up?That I’m too old?Too young?Too broken?Too far gone?Where did I learn that?And more importantly—is it still true for me now?Some beliefs will stay.Not because you were told to keep them,but because you’ve examined them, tested them, and found them still aligned.That’s not a borrowed belief.That’s a chosen one.But the ones that don’t fit anymore?You can release them.Not with anger.Not with drama.Just with clarity.Thank them for what they once protected.Then let them go.You’re not betraying your roots when you grow beyond them.You’re fulfilling them.And you’re not lost just because you’re questioning what you once held dear.You’re finding your way home.To the version of you who believes—genuinely, deeply, clearly.Not out of repetition.Not out of fear.Not out of loyalty.But out of truth.And that’s a ...
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    9 min
  • Episode 258: “All the Voices But Mine”

    Episode 258: “All the Voices But Mine”
    Jan 12 2026
    Welcome back to Infinite Threads. I’m your host, Bob.There’s a strange moment many of us experience, often quietly, often without language for it.It’s the moment when you realize your life sounds crowded on the inside.Not with people who are physically present—but with voices.Opinions. Expectations. Warnings. Praise you’re still chasing. Disappointments you’re still trying to avoid. Rules you never agreed to but somehow obey.You might hear a parent’s concern long after they’re gone from the room.A teacher’s judgment echoing decades later.A partner’s preference shaping choices they never asked you to make.A culture whispering what success is supposed to look like.A faith, a job, a role, a title—each leaving behind instructions.And somewhere beneath all that noise…there’s you.Still breathing. Still sensing. Still knowing.But quiet.This episode is about that quiet.Not because it’s weak—but because it’s been crowded out.Most of us don’t lose our voice all at once.We trade it away in pieces.The first trade often looks like love.We learn early that belonging sometimes requires adjustment.That approval is conditional.That harmony is rewarded more than honesty.So we soften.We agree.We nod when something inside us hesitates.Not because we’re dishonest—but because we’re human.Children are especially good at this. They are experts at survival.They read the room.They sense tension before language forms.They learn quickly which parts of themselves are welcome—and which aren’t.And so the editing begins.A question swallowed.A preference dismissed.A reaction toned down.A curiosity set aside.Each one seems small. Reasonable. Even loving.But over time, the edits accumulate.And one day, you realize something unsettling:You’re fluent in everyone else’s expectations…but unsure how to hear yourself.That’s not a failure of character.It’s a consequence of adaptation.We live in a world that rewards fitting in more than listening inward.From an early age, we’re taught to look outward for guidance.Grades. Feedback. Performance. Metrics. Comparison.Even morality is often handed down as a checklist instead of a conversation.So when faced with a decision, many of us don’t ask,“What feels true to me?”We ask:“What’s expected?”“What will keep the peace?”“What will make me acceptable?”“What will avoid conflict?”“What will keep me safe?”And slowly, subtly, our inner voice becomes optional.Not silenced by force—but by habit.The most haunting part is that this often happens without pain.Or rather, the pain becomes background noise.You don’t notice the loss because the crowd is loud.You’re busy being responsible.Being kind.Being dependable.Being the version of yourself that seems to work.Until something cracks.Sometimes it’s exhaustion.Sometimes resentment.Sometimes a quiet sadness you can’t name.Sometimes the feeling that you’re living a life that looks right—but feels hollow.That’s usually when people say things like:“I don’t know what I want anymore.”“I don’t even know who I am.”“I feel disconnected from myself.”What they often mean is:“I’ve been listening outward for so long that I forgot how to listen inward.”The tragedy isn’t that we listened to others.The tragedy is that we never learned how to listen to ourselves alongside them.Because here’s the truth most of us were never taught:Listening to your own voice is not selfish.It’s foundational.Your inner voice isn’t the loudest one.It doesn’t interrupt.It doesn’t rush.It doesn’t demand.It waits.And because it waits, it’s often mistaken for absence.But it’s not absent.It’s patient.It speaks in sensations.In quiet discomfort.In subtle resistance.In a feeling that something is off—even when you can’t explain why.In a sense of alignment when something fits—even if it scares you.This voice doesn’t shout because it doesn’t need to convince.It knows.And the longer it’s ignored, the softer it becomes—not out of weakness, but because it’s learned it won’t be heard.Many people fear that if they listened to their own voice, they’d become reckless or unkind.The opposite is usually true.People who reconnect with their inner voice often become calmer, clearer, and more compassionate—not just toward themselves, but toward others.Because when you’re no longer trying to meet everyone else’s expectations, you stop projecting them outward.You stop needing others to agree with you to feel secure.You stop resenting people for not being who you hoped they’d be.You stop confusing control with care.When you live from borrowed voices, you’re constantly bracing.When you live from your own, you’re grounded.But reconnecting doesn’t happen through rebellion.It happens through noticing.This week’s practice is intentionally small:Notice one moment today when you adjusted yourself out of habit.That’s it.Not to judge it.Not to undo it.Not ...
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    10 min
  • Episode 257: "Love Without Labels"

    Episode 257: "Love Without Labels"
    Jan 9 2026
    Welcome back to Infinite Threads. I’m your host, Bob.This whole week, we’ve been walking a quieter path—one without labels, doctrines, or divisions.A path that doesn’t demand agreement… only awareness.A path that trusts you to feel your way through, instead of being told where to land.Today, we arrive at something tender and bold:Love. Without labels.Not the kind that’s conditional.Not the kind that waits until someone earns it.Not the kind that demands we agree first.But the kind that sees through the costume.That honors the spark, even when the surface is hard to love.And most of all… the kind that doesn’t need a name to be real.Let’s start with this:Love isn’t being nice.Being nice can be a mask.It can be performative. Convenient. Even manipulative.Love is not that.Love is fierce. Clear. Rooted. It doesn’t turn away from truth, but it refuses to turn truth into a weapon.Love is the choice not to reduce someone down to their worst moment… or their loudest belief.It’s the refusal to flatten a human being into one trait, one vote, one opinion, one mistake, one chapter.Love knows that you can see someone without agreeing with them.That you can honor the humanity of someone whose story would never be your own.That you can leave space between you and another person… without leaving judgment there too.We live in a time when everyone wants to know where you stand.What team you’re on. What tribe. What angle. What hashtag.The pressure is constant:“Declare yourself. Pick a side. Prove you belong.”And sometimes, that’s important.We do need to speak clearly about harm, about justice, about the value of every life.But clarity isn’t the same thing as cruelty.And love doesn’t need a team to have strength.Love can stand alone and still be unshakable.Here’s something that might stretch you:Love doesn’t care if the person deserves it.It just is.Not because the other person earned it—but because you decided to be someone who sees the sacred even when it’s hidden.Love, in its truest form, is not about how lovable they are.It’s about how aligned you are.Aligned with compassion. With truth. With reality.Not the surface reality—but the reality behind the eyes.That every person you encounter is more than what they show.More than their defense mechanisms.More than their worst tweet.More than their loudest protest or their most painful silence.Love without labels is the kind that doesn’t need you to be the same in order to be seen.When you stop reducing people to labels, something wild happens:You start to feel again.You start to get curious.You start to wonder what happened to them, instead of deciding what’s wrong with them.You start asking:* What has this person survived?* What have they never been taught?* What pain are they still carrying that shaped how they speak, vote, lash out, retreat?And no, that doesn’t excuse harm.But it does open a doorway.Because you’re no longer playing the game of “us vs. them.”You’re no longer deciding who’s in and who’s out.You’re remembering that we’ve all been “them” to someone.And love… love is the bridge we forgot we could build.Some of you may be thinking:“But what about boundaries? Don’t I have the right to distance myself from someone harmful?”Yes. Absolutely.Love without labels is not love without boundaries.In fact, true love often requires boundaries.Because it doesn’t enable harm. It doesn’t stay silent in the face of abuse.But even in setting the boundary, it doesn’t strip the other person of their humanity.You can say no—with love.You can walk away—with love.You can hold space for truth and healing, even as you protect your peace.That’s the beauty of love that’s aligned, not performative.It doesn’t need to shame or control.It doesn’t need to broadcast itself.It just is.Here’s a practice for today:Find someone you’ve mentally reduced.Not someone who’s hurt you deeply—not someone you’re in active recovery from. That’s sacred ground and it deserves its own care.But someone you’ve just… written off.Someone you see through a filter:“Oh, she’s like that.”“He’s one of them.”“They always…”Now, take a breath.And ask yourself:“What am I not seeing?”Not “What are they right about?”Not “How do I agree with them?”But just—what am I missing, when I reduce this person to a label?Because behind every label is a soul.And behind every soul is a story.And stories don’t fit in hashtags.Maybe this sounds too soft. Too vague. Too idealistic.But let me ask you something:Has hating people ever made you more free?Has judgment ever helped you sleep?Has reducing someone to a category ever made your heart lighter?I’m not saying love is easy.I’m saying love is worth the cost.Because when you stop labeling, you start listening.You stop performing, and you start being present.You stop rehearsing your defenses, and you start letting silence speak.And in ...
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    11 min
  • Episode 256: "The Shared Spark Beneath the Surface"

    Episode 256: "The Shared Spark Beneath the Surface"
    Jan 8 2026
    Welcome back to Infinite Threads. I’m your host, Bob.You’ve made it to Thursday. And if you’ve been walking with us this week, you know the road we’re on isn’t just about ideas. It’s about unlearning. Softening. Seeing differently.Today’s thread is delicate—but powerful.We’re going to talk about what lies beneath… beneath all our differences, beneath the surface of skin and speech and story.But we’re not using big words like “enlightenment” or “divinity.”No belief tests. No spiritual ID badge.Just one question:What if something in you is also in everyone else?Let’s begin where we usually begin—in the real world.Think of someone you don’t like.Someone who rubs you the wrong way.Maybe you see them online. Maybe you work with them.Maybe it’s a relative who just won’t stop pushing your buttons.Now hold them in your mind for a second—just long enough to feel that edge inside you.And now, ask yourself gently:What are they protecting?What fear or pain is shaping the version I’m seeing?There’s this old image passed down in different cultures across the world—like a whisper humanity keeps repeating:That deep beneath all our separateness is one spark.One light.One fire behind all the faces.They don’t agree on what to call it.Some say soul.Some say life force.Some say consciousness.Some don’t name it at all—they just point to it with art, story, or silence.But what’s striking is this:Across time, place, language, and belief… people keep pointing to the same thing.Imagine it this way:You walk through a forest and see hundreds of different trees.Oaks. Pines. Willows. Maples.They all look different on the surface—different leaves, heights, bark, shadows.But below the surface?They’re part of the same ecosystem.They share soil.Sometimes, even roots.And when one tree gets sick, the others respond—transferring nutrients, adjusting the chemistry of the soil, sending signals through fungal threads to help each other survive.No tree says, “That’s not my problem. That’s not my kind.”They’re separate aboveground.But connected where it counts.What if we’re the same?You don’t have to believe in anything to feel this.You’ve already felt it.In a moment where someone you didn’t know helped you—for no reason.In the way a stranger’s grief made your chest ache.In the warmth of a pet’s eyes.In the hush that falls in a room when someone tells the truth, and everyone feels it at once.That’s the spark.It’s not religious.It’s not theoretical.It’s real.And it changes everything when you start looking for it.Let’s talk about how this changes how we relate.When you see someone as only their behavior, it’s easy to condemn them.When you see someone as only their beliefs, it’s easy to shut them out.But when you pause, even for a second, and remember:“There’s something inside them that’s also inside me…”…you soften. Not because they’re right. Not because you agree.But because you’re seeing clearly.Not with your eyes—but with your soul.We talk a lot in modern life about tolerance.Tolerance is… a low bar.Tolerance is “I won’t attack you today.”Tolerance is cold.But when we recognize the shared spark, it’s not about tolerating anymore.It becomes about honoring.It becomes about regard.Respect.Reverence.Not because someone earned it.But because life itself is living in them—no less than in you.Think of someone who believed in you when you didn’t believe in yourself.They saw something in you that maybe you couldn’t see.Now ask: what were they seeing?Were they seeing your résumé? Your behavior that day? Your bank account?No.They were seeing your spark.The same one that still glows in you now.You can learn to see that spark in others too.And when you do, you won’t have to force compassion.It will arise on its own.Now let’s ground this, not just in thought—but in practice.Practice for today:In a tense moment, silently say:“Same spark. Different story.”That’s it.You don’t have to say it aloud.Just breathe it. Think it. Let it settle.It won’t fix everything overnight.But it shifts you out of reaction… and into recognition.This is the beginning of the kind of love that transforms the world.Not the easy love.Not the sweet, Valentine’s Day kind of love.But the deep, grounded, unshakable love that sees through the surface.That kind of love doesn’t mean you let people walk all over you.It doesn’t mean you excuse harm or forget boundaries.It means you remember that even those who hurt… are hurting.It means you stay human, even when the world feels inhuman.Because that’s what the spark is.It’s your humanity shining through the mask.So let’s take a breath together.Let the noise fall away for just a moment.And remember:You’ve never been as separate as you felt.The spark in you is older than your name, your role, your opinions.It’s what you were before the world told you who to be.And it’s ...
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    10 min
  • Episode 255: "The Illusion of ‘Other’"

    Episode 255: "The Illusion of ‘Other’"
    Jan 7 2026
    Welcome to Infinite Threads. I’m your host, Bob.Somewhere along the way, we were taught to divide.Not just to sort or categorize for understanding—but to define.To decide who belongs and who doesn’t. Who is safe. Who is not.Who is “like us”… and who is “other.”And once that line is drawn…it becomes easier to step away from compassion.Easier to justify harm.Easier to become blind.Today, I want to talk about that line.And how real it feels, even when it’s not.The truth is: our minds evolved to divide for survival.In a dangerous world, being able to quickly distinguish friend from threat helped keep our ancestors alive.That wiring still lives in us.But here’s the problem—When the world changes and grows more complex,those ancient reflexes start misfiring.They scan for threat even when there isn’t one.They oversimplify.They say, “That person is not like me,”when the truth might be, “That person just sees the world from a different angle.”And still—we feel the tug.Even kind, self-aware people do this.We do it in traffic.We do it online.We do it when someone says something that offends us or scares us or simply doesn’t align with how we see the world.The moment our brain says,“Oh, they’re one of those,”we stop looking.We stop listening.And we forget something essential:That there is no such thing as “those people.”There is only us.Now, that may sound poetic—but it’s not meant to be.It’s meant to be practical.Because when you forget the “us” in someone else,you lose access to your own depth.Let me explain.When we create an “other,”what we’re really doing is projecting—pushing the parts of ourselves we don’t want to deal with onto someone else.It’s a defense mechanism.A mirror turned backward.Because to see the “other” clearlywould mean seeing the part of ourselves we’ve hidden, buried, or never questioned.Think about this:Have you ever judged someone for being controlling—only to later realize you were trying to control your own environment in subtle ways?Have you ever rolled your eyes at someone’s stubbornness—only to notice the quiet ways you dig in when challenged?That’s what projection does.It lets us spot flaws in others that we haven’t yet made peace with in ourselves.And so we label, reject, or diminish the “other,”because facing them fully would mean facing ourselves, too.But here’s the pivot:What if we leaned in instead of away?What if we began to see the “other” as an invitation?Not to agree.Not to approve.But to understand.To say—“There is something in that person’s story I don’t know yet.”“There is a thread in their pain that might resemble something in mine.”“There is a way they’ve learned to survive that makes sense in their world,even if it doesn’t in mine.”That doesn’t make them right.It makes them real.And seeing people as real is where love begins.So, today, I invite you to notice.Not to fix.Not to argue.Just… notice.When someone irritates you,or offends you,or disagrees in a way that feels like nails on a chalkboard—pause.And instead of saying, “They’re one of those people,”try saying this:“They’re responding to something.”Let that be the beginning of understanding.Because behind every sharp opinion is usually a deeper fear.Behind every wall is usually a wound.And beneath every mask is a human face, just trying to figure out what this life is all about.The illusion of “other” is powerful.But so is presence.So is compassion.So is the steady refusal to dehumanize,even when it would feel easier to do so.Because if we fall into the trap of division,we don’t just lose them—we lose ourselves.We lose our own softness.Our own clarity.Our own thread of love.And in a time when the world feels increasingly hardened and fast to judge—what we need most is not sharper arguments.What we need is people who stay soft.People who stay open.People who remember that there is no “them.”Only us.Thank you for listening.I know this one isn’t easy.But it matters.Every time you choose to pause instead of react—you make a different kind of world possible.One thread at a time.I’m with you.Infinite Threads is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Infinite Threads at bobs618464.substack.com/subscribe
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    8 min
  • Episode 254: “When Labels Replace Seeing”

    Episode 254: “When Labels Replace Seeing”
    Jan 6 2026
    Welcome back to Infinite Threads. I’m your host, Bob.Let’s talk about the moment we stop seeing.Not because our eyes are closed—but because our minds are already made up.It happens in a split second.You hear a word… see a hat… read a post… catch a tone…and your brain files that person into a drawer.Liberal. Conservative.Woke. Closed-minded.Religious. Atheist.Toxic. Abuser. Victim. Liar. Hero.Narcissist. Ally. Lost cause.The drawers are endless.We do it to strangers online.We do it to coworkers.We do it to family.We do it to ourselves.And maybe most dangerously—we do it so fast,we don’t even know we’re doing it.There’s a reason our brains do this.Labels help us sort.They give us shortcuts.They let us make decisions quickly—who to trust, who to avoid, who to listen to.That part’s natural.It’s survival.It’s how we process a world that’s too big, too complex, too fast.But what starts as a tool…can become a trap.Because labels don’t just sort.They shrink.Once someone is labeled,you stop being curious.You stop asking questions.You stop noticing nuance.You stop listening.And suddenly, you’re no longer in a relationship with a human being.You’re reacting to a concept.A caricature.A keyword.A phantom version of them that only exists inside your mind.And this isn’t just about “them.”It’s about what this reaction does to you.It makes your world smaller.Your empathy thinner.Your heart more guarded.Here’s a hard truth:The moment we stop seeing the person,harm becomes easier.Not just dramatic harm.Not just screaming or hate or violence.I’m talking about the soft, everyday harm of withdrawal.The way we tune out when someone talks.The way we assume bad intent.The way we refuse to believe they could grow.We don’t mean to hurt anyone.But when we reduce someone to a label,we close the door on the possibility of change—and that is one of the deepest wounds we can inflict.Because everyone is more than their worst moment.Everyone is more than one opinion, one post, one story.But labels freeze them in time.They make the moment permanent.And they rob people of the right to evolve.That includes you.How many times have you been labeled by others—and felt unseen, misunderstood, flattened?How many times have you been the labeler?There’s no shame in the answer.We all do it.But now is the time to see it—so we can stop doing it so reflexively.Let me offer you something different.Seeing someone doesn’t mean agreeing with them.It doesn’t mean justifying their choices or tolerating harm.It means acknowledging their humanity.It means knowing there’s a thread in them that’s been shaped by experiences you don’t have.It means realizing that no one came out of the womb trying to be cruel, broken, or hateful.Something happened.And something else could still happen—if we stop feeding the divisions that keep them stuck.Seeing doesn’t require ideology.It doesn’t require belief.It doesn’t require a script.It just requires presence.It asks you to look without flinching.To stay open a second longer than usual.To ask yourself: “What don’t I know yet?”Because there’s always something you don’t know yet.Always.So what do we do?Start small. Start real.Today—just once—when your mind goes to a label… pause.Pause and ask:“What might this person be carrying?”“What might they be afraid of?”“What are they trying to protect?”“What story did I just tell myself about them?”And then… try seeing without the story.You don’t have to like them.You don’t have to agree.But you do have to remember:This is a human being.That’s enough.And that seeing, that pause,is one of the most radical things you can do.Because in a world that keeps shouting “us vs. them,”choosing to see instead of sortis an act of love.And love—not judgment—is how real change begins.🧵 Closing ThreadSo let’s not be afraid to step outside our drawers.To loosen the labels—on others and ourselves.Because the deeper truth is this:No label will ever be big enough to hold a soul.You are not your mistakes.You are not your party.You are not your trauma.You are not your job.You are not your worst day.And neither is anyone else.So let us move through this day as if that were true.Let us soften our gaze.Let us stay curious.Let us choose to see.Because love doesn’t require belief.It only requires sight.And today, that sight begins with you.Thanks for being here. I’ll see you tomorrow for Episode 255. Until then—keep choosing love, one thread at a time.Infinite Threads is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Infinite Threads at bobs618464.substack.com/subscribe
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    9 min
  • Episode 253: "You Are Not the Costume"

    Episode 253: "You Are Not the Costume"
    Jan 5 2026
    Welcome back to Infinite Threads. I’m your host, Bob.We all wear costumes.Some we’re born into—our names, our bodies, the places we’re from.Some we’re handed—expectations, labels, rules about what someone “like us” should or shouldn’t do.And some… we stitch together ourselves—trying to belong, to matter, to be loved.But none of those costumes are the real you.They never were.They’re stories, sometimes useful… but always incomplete.And I know this because I’ve lived behind more than a few.I’ve tried to be the strong one, the funny one, the quiet one, the smart one, the fixer, the forgiver, the peacekeeper, the one who has it all together… and sometimes, the one who doesn’t.And still—beneath all of it—there was something watching. Waiting. Whispering.“This isn’t really me.”Have you heard that voice?It’s quieter than the rest. Not demanding. Not dramatic. But it feels like a deep hum, coming from the center of you. The part that notices when your laugh feels forced. When your smile is armor. When your opinions don’t match your gut.That noticing… that’s you.Not the version everyone sees. Not the version you perform. But the one who knows it’s a performance in the first place.You are not the costume.You are the consciousness inside it.And there’s such relief in that—because it means you can stop trying to perfect the performance and start paying attention to the truth.And the truth is: You’ve never been broken. You’ve just been playing roles that didn’t fit.Sometimes you inherited them from parents or teachers or the town you grew up in.Sometimes you tried them on because they got you praise. Or kept you safe. Or made the pain easier to carry.That doesn’t make you fake.It makes you human.We all build masks before we know who we are.But if you’re listening to this, you’re ready to begin taking them off.Not all at once. Not with shame. But gently… patiently… like peeling away something that’s gotten tight and itchy and heavy, and finding that you can still breathe underneath it.Here’s what I mean:Maybe you’re not the angry one—you’re the unheard one.Maybe you’re not the overachiever—you’re the child who learned that love had to be earned.Maybe you’re not the screw-up—you’re the soul who didn’t get the help they needed in time.And maybe… just maybe… you’re not lost.You’re just buried.Buried under other people’s expectations. Buried under the pressure to perform. Buried under the noise of a world that profits from your disconnection.So today, I’m not giving you a solution.I’m offering you a pause.A breath.A place to start again.Ask yourself, just once today: “Who is noticing this moment?”Not who you’re supposed to be. Not who others see. But who’s doing the noticing?That… is you.And that you has never been reduced by your worst mistake.That you has never been made more real by your job title or your income or your weight or your follower count.That you is still whole. Still listening. Still here.And I know it can feel strange, at first, to step outside the roles you’ve worn for years. It might feel like you’re losing yourself. But you’re not.You’re finally meeting yourself.And trust me—what you’ll find is beautiful.There is a kind of peace that comes when you stop trying to be the version of you that gets applause… and start being the version that gets quiet when the sun hits your face and you feel, just for a second, that you’re enough.That’s who you are.That’s always been who you are.Not the costume.Not the mask.Not the echo of someone else’s expectation.You are the awareness that remains when all of that falls away.And if you ever forget, come back to this question:Who is noticing?Who is the one behind the thoughts, the roles, the performance?Who remains?It’s you.You—unlabeled, unmasked, unshaken.And that is a powerful place to begin.We’ll continue this thread tomorrow. But for now…Let yourself breathe.Let yourself arrive.Let yourself feel, even if just for a moment, the truth that doesn’t need to be spoken to be known:You are more than the costume.And you always have beenInfinite Threads is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Infinite Threads at bobs618464.substack.com/subscribe
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    7 min