Unravelling the voice of my Inner Critique

Of late, I’ve been keenly watching over this one particular voice in my head, almost like a parent. It’s called “Ms Know It All” AKA the inner critique. Sometimes, she’s been successful in making me feel miserable about certain things but the others I’ve heard it ramble on aimlessly. I thought to myself “If my experience of life depends upon how I narrate life to myself then I better start working on parenting Ms Know It All” so this is my new pet project for this year, one of many.

One of my friends recently came over for dinner. She teaches kids of age 10 and under. She was telling us about how she conducted an exercise in school where she asked kids of her grade what their inner voice said to them. To her surprise, many didn’t even have one so looked perplexed by this question & when she probed into it, she found out that those kids didn’t understand the concept at all because they didn’t have any voice in their head. She was led to this interesting conclusion thereafter that the inner voice that we take as a given as adults is not developed wholly until the age of 10 or so.

That seemed very interesting to me. Then, I caught “Ms Know It All” blabber about how I wasn’t being the person I’m supposed to be (when you act in a way that’s not aligning with expectations that Ms Know It All has set upon you) or doing things I was supposed to do, basically killing the joy of my presence time and again. I decided to pause and look into it. Here’s what I found on one of the websites on Google on where this voice comes from -

These inner voices usually come from early life experiences that are internalized and taken in as ways we think about ourselves. Often, many of these negative voices come from our parents or primary care takers, as children we pick up on the negative attitudes that parents not only have towards their children but also toward themselves. Our voices can also come from interactions with peers and siblings, or influential adults.

This was starting to make more sense now. Instead of leaving my critical inner voice unchecked, I was uncovering its mysteries by understanding its roots. Given that this inner voice magically has a tone, a voice, a particular vocabulary by the time it starts speaking to us, it makes sense that it picked all of this up from early childhood experiences, likely before the age of 10. Until that time, it’s forming its character in the womb, keenly converting idiosyncrasies of our environment to her characteristics. Until one day, she speaks to us. In fully fledged words & coherent sentences. It takes us by surprise but we can’t help but feel mesmerized by the knowledge she holds. She starts waving her wand and we can’t help but jump around on her commands.

Then one day, we become aware of her futile patterns. They yield little to no result in the form of self-improvement but always leave a bitter taste in the mouth. You look back at everything she’s told you and can rationally see how negative self-enforcement has had such little longevity. All she’s successfully managed to do is leave a tsunami of critical thoughts, which pour down at you sporadically. As you become aware of her sabotaging patterns, you loosen the grip she has over your emotions & reactions. Once you loosen it enough, you shine a light on her, almost like a mother. You’ve outgrown her. You realize that she had a role to play and everything you’ve learned to identify her with is all she knew. She was birthed from the circumstances that surrounded you as a child and didn’t know any better than that. She hasn’t evolved but you have. So maybe you can show her a little love & care as a way of empathizing with her story. May you can shoot for it straight….

“I’m thankful for all those years of companionship but we can’t evolve together anymore. My environment, values & everything about me has changed so it doesn’t serve you right to cling to the idea of who I was in my early days. I needed you then but I don’t need you now.”

As we part ways, her place is taken over (or maybe she has evolved after our confrontation) by a compassionate, sassy, loving, wise & kind woman who oscillates between an absolute nuisance, making a joke out of the most serious situations you encounter to the wisest one when needed. She’s a black woman for me, beautiful & fierce. I can hear her laughing OUT LOUD when I say I wouldn’t drink and I reach out for a glass of wine, saying “Oh I thought we weren’t drinking but maybe I heard wrong?”

I can see her laughing face transform into a mythological goddess, when I question my self worth.

I can see her pout & signalling me to be quiet when I think to myself “I’ve got so much to do” to tell me to be present & wholly involved in whatever I’m doing.

I can see her cheer for me, so loudly that it’s deafening, saying “YOU GO GIRL” when I go into meetings I’ve been preparing for, for days. I can feel her when I dance by myself, in the kitchen, while cooking food or run after my cat, Cersei, aimlessly to annoy her. She’s with me, evolving with me. She, just like me, loves Clarissa Pinkola Estés, so here’s leaving you with a quote from her.

“Be wild; that is how to clear the river. The river does not flow in polluted, we manage that. The river does not dry up, we block it. If we want to allow it its freedom, we have to allow our ideational lives to be let loose, to stream, letting anything come, initially censoring nothing. That is creative life. It is made up of divine paradox. To create one must be willing to be stone stupid, to sit upon a throne on top of a jackass and spill rubies from one’s mouth. Then the river will flow, then we can stand in the stream of it raining down.”