I have always found it interesting how quickly we form an opinion about someone. 

Let’s say someone introduces themselves as a doctor. Almost immediately, we imagine them as knowledgeable, someone we can turn to for advice, and someone who is worthy of respect. 

But when someone is described as an addict, a very different image comes to mind. We may think of that person as unreliable, dangerous, and incapable of contributing to society.

The interesting part is that neither description tells much about the person.

We often use labels for the sake of understanding, especially when we encounter someone or something unfamiliar. Labels give us something familiar to hold on to. They simplify complexity. Instead of figuring out who someone is, we place them into a category and feel that we understand them.

This raises an important question: Can a label become the person themselves?

I remember one of my supervisors describing a case. She was counselling a thirteen-year-old boy who had a mild learning disability. As she began working with him, she noticed that he was not putting in as much effort as he was capable of. When she asked him about it, he responded, “But I am a weak student. That’s what everyone says. What’s the point?”

That response stayed with me.

He was called “weak” so many times that the description became an identity. He was no longer someone who struggled academically. He saw himself as weak. And once that belief became part of his identity, trying harder became almost meaningless. 

Why invest effort into something when you have already decided what the outcome will be?

This phenomenon is much more common than we might realise.

“I am shy.” “I am bad at math.” “I am terrible with people.” “I am not creative.” “I am a failure.” “I am the responsible one.” “I am a difficult child.”

These are sentences we hear all the time, and sometimes we repeat them to ourselves. There may be some truth behind them. Someone might really struggle with mathematics, feel uncomfortable in social situations, or take on more responsibility than others. 

But there is a significant difference between saying, “Math is difficult for me,” and saying, “I am bad at math.”

The first describes an experience, but the second describes a self. And once a description becomes part of our identity, we unconsciously behave in ways that reinforce it.

Consider someone always “labelled” as shy. At a social gathering, they might want to introduce themselves to someone new, but the thought immediately arises: “That’s not who I am. I’m shy.” They remain quiet. Others may then perceive them as reserved, which reinforces the original label. Eventually, the person may stop seeing their behaviour as something they can change and start seeing it as an essential part of who they are.

The same thing can happen in the opposite direction.

Imagine a child who is praised for being “the smart one.” At first, the label feels positive. It becomes a source of pride. But eventually, being smart can become something the child feels they must continuously prove. A difficult assignment is no longer just difficult. It becomes label-threatening. Making a mistake does not mean getting something wrong; it can feel like an evidence that they are not as intelligent as people thought.

The “smart child” can therefore become afraid of failing and so accustomed to meeting everyone else’s expectations that they lose touch with what they want. Even positive labels can become restrictive when we feel that we have to protect them.

This is why labels can be so powerful. They do not just tell us how other people see us. Eventually, they can influence how we see ourselves.

This is one of the reasons why language matters in counselling and human relationships. We are constantly becoming, yet we often speak about ourselves as though we have already been decided.

“I am just an introvert.” “I am not good at this.” “I have always been the responsible one.” “I could never do something like that.” “That is just who I am.” 

There is something comforting about these statements. They provide certainty. If I already know who I am, I do not have to confront the uncertainty of who I might become. But certainty can also become a cage.

Instead of saying, “I am not creative,” we could say, “I have not explored my creativity very much.” Instead of, “I am bad at relationships,” we might say, “I have struggled in some of my relationships.”  Instead of, “I am a shy person,” we might say, “I often feel uncomfortable in unfamiliar social situations.”

The difference may seem small, but it creates room for growth.

The danger is not necessarily in having labels. We need categories and descriptions to make sense of the world. The danger comes when we mistake the label for the entire person. The label may contain some truth, but it rarely contains the whole truth.

A person can be shy and still be courageous. Someone can struggle with addiction and still be compassionate. Someone can fail an exam and still be intelligent. Someone can be responsible and still need help. Someone can be successful and still feel lost.

We can always be a little more careful with the words we use to describe ourselves and others. Not because every label is wrong, but because people are rarely finished products.

Gurung is a counselling psychologist at Happy Minds, a mental health and well-being platform.