I sometimes hate this metaphor because we are not computers. Yet because of the complexity of neuroscience the metaphor is a useful way to picture something that is easy to miss.
For a moment, imagine the mind has something like RAM and storage. RAM is what you are actively holding right now: the conversation you just had, three decisions that need to be made before lunch, the email you still need to answer, the problem one of your employees brought into your office.
A colleague tells you the numbers in yesterday’s report were wrong. You adjust. A customer gives you information you did not have. You rethink the decision. A strategy stops working. You change the strategy.
The harder problem is information that seems so solid we stop checking whether it's outdated.
Some information becomes a locked file in storage.
You do not wake up each morning and reason from scratch about your name, your route home, or a thousand ordinary assumptions. That efficiency is necessary. We could not function if every experience had to be evaluated as though we were encountering it for the first time.
But there is a cost. Some files we treat with the same confidence as our name but they have two problems. One, they were written under duress or to survive. Two, we were young enough we didn't realize we were making life-long core beliefs about ourselves, others or the world.