Working With The Voices In My Head

For most of my life, I would sit down in front of a white screen with a blinking cursor and just start writing. The words would flow and in the back of my brain, a small, but persistent, voice would cheer me on.

A year ago or so, that voice was replaced with a louder voice reminding me of how little anyone wanted to read what I wrote. That my skills as a writer were lost, and the best I could ever hope for was a few likes on 280 characters.

So I stopped writing.

For most of my life, I have wanted to be a writer. Not just a writer, but an author. More than once, people have asked me if I would ever write a book, to which my reply was always the same, “maybe.” It wasn’t that I didn’t want to write a book, honestly, there are few things I would rather do, but that voice in my head continually reminded me that my dream was too large. And I listened to those words. The voice, you see, is mine.

So I stopped dreaming.

A year ago or so, I committed to putting myself first. I made changes. I went to doctors. I even started therapy again. But I couldn’t write. The very thought of writing caused my heart to beat in overdrive. The voice no longer had to scream. Just a simple, “tsk,” and I turned on the tv instead.

So I write this with my heart beating rapidly.

Over that year, I learned a lot about my health, both physical and mental. That’s not right. I didn’t learn. I unlearned and explored.

When we are children, we build defense mechanisms to handle the world. Some are good (don’t cross the street without looking both ways), and some are bad (never leave your house, but only bad things happen outside your house). Those defense mechanisms, over time, define who we are as adults.

The world we create as children defines the life we live as adults.

For me, dealing with a mind made unstable by bipolar, bipolar depression and anxiety, the defense mechanisms I built protected me against mania, deep depression and a debilitating sense of dread and overwhelmed.

I couldn’t describe how I was feeling to my parents or friends, shoot, I didn’t understand how I was feeling. While I knew something was wrong, I did get properly diagnosed until I was in my 30’s. And the anxiety and bipolar depression? Not until a year ago.

How did my defense mechanisms manifest themselves? As voices in my head. Many voices in my head.

At this point, if you have read this far, you are probably thinking that you don’t suffer from the same disability I do, and therefore this doesn’t apply.

I bet a voice told you that.

We all have voices that we use to manage our lives. For me, I have many, and I am still exploring their use and trying to eliminate the ones that I don’t need and control the ones that I do.

The voices we all have: The Critic, The Cheerleader, The Grandmother

The Critic

Everyone has that voice in the back of our heads that tells us we are not good enough and that no matter how hard we try, we will fail.

Everyone has that voice in the back of our heads that points out all of our mistakes and why we will never amount to anything.

We believe it motivational, yet it makes us feel bad.

We accept it as truth.

But it’s a liar.

It is impossible to suck as bad as the Critic believes we do.

Have you ever stopped to think of whose voice the Critic is yelling at us with? Is it a parent? An old teacher? A coach? Our significant other?

Ourselves?

Mine is me. I have said many times: “There is no one harder on me than me.”

And my Critic screams.

The Cheerleader

My Cheerleader is quiet, I can barely hear her (I am pretty sure it’s my mom). I can barely hear her because I have gotten so used to listening to the Critic.

After all, the Critic is always right, right?

My Cheerleader is Truth. The support she provides is reminding me of what I can accomplish, what I have accomplished and what I will accomplish.

She gives me the receipts. The Critic never has the evidence.

I struggle to remind myself of that fact. The Cheerleader is Truth.

The Cheerleader is Truth.

The Cheerleader is Truth.

Mostly because the Critic is such a good liar. (And he is me.)

But the Cheerleader is always there for me when I need her most.

I just need to remember to listen.

The Grandmother

Sometimes, I need to be reminded to give myself a break.

It’s ok to miss a goal. Or to eat that cake.

Sometimes, I just need to be told I can just relax and that everyone that I love loves me back.

The Grandmother tells me so.

Sometimes, the Grandmother tells me that I should be immediately gratified, even if it’s better for me to delay a bit. I have to trust that the Grandmother means well but is not always the best arbiter of what’s best for me.

But I do love my Grandmother.

Managing the Voices

We each have these three voices:

The Critic — tells us when we are doing wrong even when we are doing right.

The Cheerleader — reminds us that we are good, do good and will be good.

The Grandmother — lets us slip gently and sometimes just have the cookie.

It’s important to remember that the volume of the voice is not directly connected to its value. That Critic screams. We listen to it because we believe that the best motivator is critical. That we will get better if we can only spend time on what we did wrong.

The Critic is a liar. Its job is not to speak truth to power, but to make you feel bad. That’s it.

The Cheerleader is not the opposite of the Critic. It is not always positive; it is always truthful. Its job is to show you reality, even when it is positive.

And we all need The Grandmother but in small doses. It is easy to live in a world of immediate gratification. Success needs long-term goals. Listen to your Grandmother, don’t listen to only your Grandmother.

I am exploring my voices to understand the ones that exist for my benefit and those that exist to protect me from a life I no longer lead. We all have defense mechanisms we created as children.

So I started writing about mine.