I’m realizing that a ceasefire isn’t just about putting down the weapons; it’s about learning an entirely new language.
For years, my internal dialogue was fluent in “Critique.” It was a dialect of not enough, too much, not yet. I spoke to myself in a way I would never dream of speaking to a stranger on the street. I was a master of the “hateful edit”—constantly cutting out my wins and zooming in on my flaws.
Now, I’m learning the vocabulary of the ceasefire. It feels like learning a second language as an adult—you have to think before you speak. When the old script starts—”You look tired, you look like you failed”—I have to manually intervene.
I’m no longer just a passive listener to my own thoughts; I am officially the Editor. I’m noticing which words make me feel small and realizing I don’t have to give them a microphone anymore. I’m not fluent in self-love yet, but I’m officially retired from self-hate. And for now, that is enough.
What is one phrase your inner critic says on repeat? If you were the Editor of your own life, what phrase would you replace it with today?
I still to this very day struggle with this… If I am in a room and the group is talking and I start talking… I will talk happily but then I suddenly feel,”why am I even speaking? I’m a baclground character to fill a seat till a good friend shows up.” And I sink into myself. I just start questioning .y own validity in connection to the I outside world because deep down…I feel like I’ve already died and can’t hope to be important now. Just lift the main cast until the curtain ends the show. Its dark but it makes me a better person to others. I don’t allow myself luxuries that involve others because I have not earned that grace. Your mind has helped me explore my own. On a whim at that!
This is such a raw, honest reflection—thank you for trusting me with it. I want you to know I’ve been right there with you; I still struggle with looking back on a conversation and spiraling, convinced that nothing I said was actually worthy of being spoken.
Most of us were taught—whether through our Mental Inheritance (spoiler: upcoming post!) or past experiences—that our value is tied to our utility. We feel we have to be the funniest, the most helpful, or the most silent to “earn” our spot at the table.
But the truth is, you aren’t just filling a seat for the “main cast.” You are the main character, and you deserve to take up space without feeling the need to “earn” that right. I always try to remind myself I don’t need a justification to exist in a room. My presence is the only “qualification” required.
I’m so glad my words have sparked a journey of your own! I am beyond stoked to have you here. You never have to wait for anyone else to arrive to justify your place at this table.