those voices inside your head

We live in a noisy world. Between our near-constant phone notifications and the chaotic blare of our music and television, not to mention all the chatter from the people around us (I’m looking at you, my wonderful but extremely loud children), it can be hard to find a moment of stillness. Most of the time it feels like there’s just too much to listen to, too much static to filter through. Most days it’s hard to find a moment to hear yourself think.

But what happens when the noise stops? What does that stillness sound like? I don’t think it’s ever truly quiet because even when we finally find a moment to think, we’re left with the noise of our thoughts.

As a writer and creator of characters, I tend to have a lot of voices inside my head. And they are a chatty bunch, these friends of mine. After spending all this time with each of them, I know what their voices sound like. I can hear the rhythm of their dialogue; I fill pages of my books with their inner monologues. But when I take all that noise away, what’s left? 

It’s just me. 

There are countless versions of Nicole that exist in and outside of my mind. Versions of me that I’ve clung to since childhood and new pieces of me that are just starting to fall into place. But all of these versions of myself can usually be boiled down to two specific voices: my critical voice or my compassionate voice. 

Too often, I let my critical voice have the microphone. And let me tell you, she is mean.

You shouldn’t have said that. 

You’re not doing enough. 

Why can’t you figure this out? 

Also, your house is dirty and your kids don’t listen to you and you never get enough sleep and no one’s going to read your books and 

and 

and—

Sound familiar? Your critical voice might not say the exact same things as mine, but I’m willing to bet they have very similar tones; one that thrives on discouragement and dissatisfaction. This voice is like a ruthless opponent you can’t outwit or escape because she is you and you are her, and she knows all of your insecurities and every weak spot to press on. 

If we’re not careful, if we let those critical voices camp out on our mental stages with all their emotional baggage and an endless supply of insults, we’re always going to feel small and ineffectual. We’re always going to struggle with self-worth and feelings of inadequacy. 

But what happens when we crank up the volume of our compassionate voice? We hear more clearly. We see ourselves in a new light. 

I am learning. 

I am trying. 

I am worth it. 

I am a child of God who is known and seen and loved beyond measure. 

When we let our compassionate voice take over, our problems don’t disappear, nor do our insecurities suddenly vanish. But everything’s a lot easier to deal with when it’s examined under a lens of love, one of understanding and acceptance. Compassion doesn’t deny that there is room to grow, but it clears space for new life while our critical voice wipes out any chance of it. 

So which voice are you going to listen to today? I hope it’s your true voice—your God-given compassionate self—not the critical version of you that only believes the lies. 

Find her in the stillness, this true version of you. She’s there, and she loves you. 

It’s time to hand her the mic.