The Lucky Lie Trap

When people reduce your survival to luck and erase the hell it took to get here.

You’re catching up with a friend on the phone, filling them in on the latest.

You mention, almost in passing, how grateful you are to be working from home now — no commute, no scrambling to drop everything for a sick kid, no racing the clock.

There’s a pause on the other end. Then a laugh.
“Must be nice. You’re so lucky.”

And just like that, your chest tightens. Your blood starts to simmer.

Because what they don’t see is the years it took to get here —

the late nights studying until your eyes blurred,
the decades clocking into jobs that gave you no freedom,
the humiliations and setbacks you had to swallow just to qualify for this path.

They see the comfort, but not the climb.
They see the harvest, but not the hell you went through

That’s the Lucky Lie Trap: when people reduce your accomplishments to luck and diminish the fight it took to stand where you are. It’s unfortunate that people love to look at your now and erase your then.

My Life in This Trap

I’ve heard those words more times than I can count. “You’re so lucky… Must be nice.”

People look at my life now — two master’s degrees, a career with the flexibility to work from home, books with my name on the cover and they assume ease.

They assume it just “happened” for me.

But luck didn’t stand with me in the dozen of office cubicles where I worked for scraps, praying my kids wouldn’t get sick because I had no time off.

Luck didn’t swipe my food stamps card at the grocery store while I held back tears of humiliation.

Luck didn’t sit with me at the kitchen table, textbooks open, kids tugging at my sleeve, and exhaustion pressing in while still refusing to quit.

Luck didn’t pay the price of raising four kids alone while their father sat on the sidelines, quick to criticize but never to help.

What I experience today — the peace, stability, and career flexibility isn’t luck.
It’s God’s reward after twelve long years of sowing, survival, and sacrifice.

Why It Hurts So Much

It hurts because when someone calls your harvest a matter of “luck,” they’re not complimenting you — they’re erasing you.

They dismiss the sweat, scars, sleepless nights, and parts of your story that nearly broke you.

They flatten your resilience into chance, as if survival didn’t cost you anything.

It hurts because instead of empathy, you get envy. Instead of someone asking,

“What did it take for you to get here?” they roll their eyes and call it fortune.

They look at the peace you fought to protect and skip past the war it took to win it.

They want to highlight the wins without ever honoring the wounds that claimed it.

And it hurts because it plants lies in other people’s minds, too. They look at your harvest and measure it against their own sowing season. Then they:

• assume they’re behind.

• assume they’ve failed.

• don’t see the long years of sowing, silence, and storms it took before anything sprouted.

All they see is fruit, and they believe it came easy, when nothing about it ever did.

That’s the cruelty of the Lucky Lie: it doesn’t just wound you, it warps how others see themselves, too.

The Reality Check

Don’t fall for the Lucky Lie yourself.

When you see someone else in their harvest season, don’t assume it came easy.

You don’t know the dirt they had to dig through.
You don’t know the storms they had to survive.
You don’t know what it cost them to stand where they are now.

So the next time you catch yourself thinking someone had it easier, pause.

Ask yourself:

• What did they survive to get here?

• What storms did they endure that I’ll never see?

• And what seeds am I planting right now that will one day be my harvest?

Don’t resent the fruit. Respect the roots.

And when somebody tries that “You’re so lucky” or “Must be nice” BS, here’s a simple way to set the record straight:

“It’s not luck. I worked hard for this.”

Say it with your chest. Because your story deserves credit, not reduction.

Want to Go Deeper?

If this post struck a nerve, you’re on the path to transformation. Seeing the trap is the first step, but learning how to break free is next.

That’s why I created the paid tier of Get Untrapped™. Inside, you’ll get:

• Weekly deep-dive lessons that show you how to dismantle traps like comparison, burnout, and self-doubt.

• Exclusive reflection prompts and tools to help you rewrite your story in real time.

• Mini-courses and video sessions where I walk you through the practices that pulled me out of survival mode.

• Behind-the-scenes truths I don’t share publicly — the raw lessons I save for my inner circle.

If the free posts resonate, imagine what happens when you lean all the way in. Upgrade today and let’s break the Lucky Lie and other traps that keep you small.