I read this article in The Guardian about a woman who’s inner voice is ruining her life I found myself relating completely. (I’ve actually mentioned this before in Adjusting My Inner Narrator.)

What you have is a particularly vicious inner critic and that is what we need to work with. This inner critic isn’t you, it’s just a voice, one that has been given far too much authority over your experience. So, here’s what I suggest: give it a silly name. Really. Make it ridiculous. Call it something like “Madam Misery” or “Naggy Noreen”. Sketch it out if you like, what does it look like? A tiny, shrivelled gremlin? A pompous, over-dramatic theatre villain? However you picture it, externalise it.

This is such good advice, and maybe if I actually go to therapy this would be a technique discussed, but framing the inner voice in this way is a bit of a revelation. My voice always refers to me by name. I took that to assume I just talk to myself in the third person, but it’s just a goblin giving me shit.

When it speaks up, imagine it sitting on a chair opposite you. Say to it, “Ah, there you are again. I hear you, but I’m not taking you seriously today.” You don’t have to battle it or silence it, just distance yourself from it, don’t engage. If it interrupts your thoughts, acknowledge it with a casual, “Not now” and turn your attention elsewhere. This is something to practise daily.

This voice is something that would frequently occur post drinking, and I guess drink would be a way to silence it and the feelings that lay underneath. My attempt at controlling my drinking is an act of self care, which will help with the inner critic. in the long run, but now I have to learn new tools when he reappears.

The article also links to Self-Compassion Practices which looks really useful. Somethings I’ve seen there to help are:

  • How would I treat a friend?
  • What do I need to hear right now to express kindness to myself?

This isn’t about flipping a switch and suddenly feeling radiant and self-assured. It’s about chipping away at old beliefs, noticing the critic without becoming it, and learning, slowly and gently, to see yourself with softer eyes.

I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does.