The Story That Shattered and Set Me Free
JUNE 2026
When I was invited to speak at the English edition of Fuckup Nights Florence, my first reaction was hesitation. Daria Dall’Igna, our WIN member, had given my name to the organizers.
I did not hesitate because I am uncomfortable speaking in public, but because the event asks speakers to revisit experiences of failure, vulnerability, and lessons learned the hard way. I wasn’t sure I wanted to reopen one of the most painful chapters of my life. Yet once I accepted the invitation, the story came to me almost immediately. It was clear, coherent, and surprisingly easy to prepare because it was a story I had spent years trying to understand.
I had the privilege of speaking last, following two wonderful bloggers, Catalin Varela and Georgette Jupe. Listening to their honest and engaging talks helped me relax and settle into the spirit of the evening. By the time my turn arrived, I felt ready to share my own experience.
My talk, The Story I Chose to Believe—Until it Broke Me Free, was not really about losing a job. It was about the stories we tell ourselves and the powerful role they play in shaping our perception of reality.
For nearly ten years, I worked for a small company whose ambitions became my own. I helped organize international events, open new markets, and build a global network of relationships. I believed deeply in the company’s vision and in the people behind it. More importantly, I believed in a story: a story of friendship, integrity, shared values, and mutual respect.
Looking back, I realized that I wasn’t only helping to build the company’s narrative. I was building a story that allowed me to justify my dedication, my sacrifices, and the countless hours I invested in my work.
That story became a lens through which I interpreted everything.
As long as it remained intact, I could explain away the warning signs. I could overlook behaviors that troubled me, dismiss contradictions, and continue believing that everything would work out in the end.
What I came to understand is that this form of self-deception is often self-protection, not weakness.
When we are vulnerable, emotionally invested, or afraid of what the truth might mean, we instinctively seek coherence. Psychologists call the discomfort created by conflicting realities cognitive dissonance. To avoid that discomfort, we often adjust the story rather than confront the facts. In many ways, the narrative I had created helped me survive. It allowed me to keep functioning, keep believing, and keep moving forward when the alternative might have felt overwhelming.
Eventually, however, reality became impossible to ignore. A conflict over my employment contract triggered a series of events that led to my dismissal, followed by a period of illness, unemployment, depression, and profound self-questioning.
For a long time, I believed my greatest mistake had been misjudging other people. But with time, I realized something more nuanced. I had seen many of the warning signs. I simply chose to believe they would never apply to me. I believed I was the exception.
The real turning point came when I stopped asking why others had behaved as they did and started examining the story I had created for myself.
That was when clarity emerged.
And with clarity came freedom. Once I took responsibility for the story I had created: a marketing fiction!
The audience response was deeply moving. The support from WIN members was amazing. Many people shared with me privately stories of jobs, relationships, and situations they had remained in because the story they believed felt safer than the truth they were avoiding.
If there was one message I hoped people carried home that evening, it was this: failure does not define us. Neither do our mistakes in judging people. But the stories we choose to believe can deeply shape our lives. Sometimes they protect us. Sometimes they trap us. And sometimes, when they finally break apart, they reveal the freedom waiting on the other side.