Don’t Believe Everything You Think

A woman walked up to me in the middle of a busy Saturday lunch service and asked, “How long has Vanessa worked here?”

I was confused. We do have a Vanessa, but she only works special events and retreats. She was not scheduled that day.

The woman looked certain.

“I just saw her,” she said. “She came in, saw me, got awkward, walked around the restaurant, and then left. She is my cousin. I haven’t seen her in four years. I was really hoping to talk to her.”

There was no hesitation in her voice. No curiosity.

This was not a question. It was a conclusion.

I told her gently that Vanessa was not there that day and that the person she saw was my sister-in-law, Sarah.

She shook her head.

“No,” she said. “I’m sure it was her.”

I knew exactly who she had seen.

My sister-in-law lives next door to the restaurant. Her children were at home. Her baby was sleeping. Seeing that we were busy, she ran down briefly. She dropped something off, ran a few plates, wiped down a few things, and left.

This is not unusual for her.

She often struggles internally when the restaurant is busy and she is needed at home. Even though no one expects her to pull away from her children, and even though we are deeply grateful for the ways she contributes, she carries her own quiet guilt about not being able to do more.

So yes, she may have seemed rushed.

A little awkward.

A little uncomfortable.

But not for the reason this woman was so certain of.

In my sister-in-law’s reality, she was navigating motherhood, responsibility, and an internal dialogue many women carry.

In the customer’s reality, her cousin walked into the restaurant, recognized her, felt uncomfortable, and left.

Same moment.

Same person.

Two completely different stories.

One was true.

One was imagined.

That interaction stayed with me.

Because how often do we interpret other people’s behavior through the lens of our own unresolved stories?

How often do we assume that discomfort is rejection, distance is avoidance, or silence is judgment?

How often do we take things personally that have nothing to do with us at all?

This does not only happen in small moments. It shows up in much bigger ways.

Years ago, when I owned a restaurant in Culver City, California, a large group came in on a rainy day. There were more than 12 of them. Half the restaurant was patio seating, which meant that we were fully consolidated inside.

Every table was full.

They had just arrived from the airport. They had suitcases and extra bags.

I told them that it would take at least an hour to get a table. I offered to seat them at the bar, store their luggage in the back hallway, bring out appetizers, and let them know when I could move tables together.

That is when one man accused the host and me of being racist.

I came out to defuse the situation.

I looked at him and said: “My business partner is a black American woman. She believed that if we opened this restaurant in this exact location, we would not only serve the Santa Monica crowd that loved green juice and healthy food, but also people from Inglewood. She wanted a place close to that neighborhood where black families could come and enjoy healthy options.”

Then I said: “Sir, you are an expression of my business partner’s dream taking shape. For you to accuse us of racism, when you are actually the reason this restaurant exists, is a misinterpretation of what is happening.”

I suggested that they go to the bar, order appetizers, and let me prepare the tables.

By the end of the meal, we were hugging. They were calling me their sister.

His interpretation was that he was not getting a table because he was black.

My interpretation was that the restaurant was full because it was raining and half the seating was unavailable.

Both realities felt real.

Only one was true.

Racism exists. Sexism exists. Discrimination exists.

But not every uncomfortable moment is proof of it.

When we assume intent without evidence, when we allow past wounds or expectations to fill in the gaps, we risk misreading one another in ways that quietly create division where none was intended.

The lesson in these moments is simple and humbling.

Don’t believe everything you think.

Perceived reality is not truth.

Not every reaction is about you.

Not every awkward moment is rejection.

Not every story your mind constructs is accurate.

The more certain we feel, the more careful we should be.

As someone who has changed nearly all of her core beliefs over the past seven years, I try to remember this daily. I know nothing. What I believe today, I did not believe yesterday. The evidence led me here, and if I am willing to continue seeing the evidence, it will lead me somewhere new.

The danger is not being wrong.

The danger is seeking agreement with what we already believe rather than seeking the truth.

If we are brave enough to do the latter, our conclusions will keep changing. That is not weakness. It is integrity.

Views expressed in this article are opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Epoch Times.