No one’s gonna read your post

Mean things my parts say to me and what I say back.

I’ve got these voices in my head. Not those kind of voices, although I assume they must be cousins. Voices that seemingly got installed or evolved through the course of my upbringing. Where they came from is a whole other rabbit hole. I’ve mostly learned to make friends with them but they say what seems like kinda mean things to me.

“No one wants to hear what you’ve got to say.”

Thoughts like this still flash in my mind but I’ve learned to give them the side-eye and step around them. They used to be more cruel. Occasionally, they are cutting — attacking the most delicate or still healing sections of me. I can usually recognize those because they don’t always make sense. They have a forever feelings, like an echo in a canyon. There’s no arguing with them because they always figure out a way to win. When I pin them down and interrogate their words, they generally fall apart.

“You’re too fat to want that.”

As if being fat would preclude me from wanting anything? What seems likie criticizing is actually a warning. Whatever you want, you won’t get so let me save you the disappointment. On the surface, these voices send a message of warning - an arresting full stop. Stay away. If I were to assume the voice came from outside of me, that would be pretty harsh. But it doesn’t — it’s internal. It might have an origin story from childhood but somewhere along the line, I adopted it. It must have made sense and served me at some point. Now it just seems like nonsense.

“They don’t want to be friends with you.”

I can appreciate this warning not to trust too easily. Not everyone is nice, earnest or honest like I am. Some people will take advantage of my trusting nature. But not everyone! By paying attention to your thought patterns, you can recognize these voices inside you. You weren’t born with them — babies don’t critisize pooping themselves. They give no fucks when their needs aren’t met. Critical parts have pet phrases. The words come easily and ‘roll off the tongue’ so to speak. They’re familiar putdowns that bubble up in the form of complete sentences, partial phrases or muttered one-word insults.

“You should stop while you’re ahead.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that one before. You’re a cranky old part, aren’t you? I’ll sometimes picture the part as one of the Muppets. The critical ones are the two old men in the balcony. The secret to making friends with these parts is to understand them. They have needs but the way they go about expressing themselves is immature and kid-like. Deep down, they just want to protect you from harm. Malformed, fucked up, old school, give-it-to-you-rough, sibling or childhood best friend kind of protection.

Parts use the past to predict and ward off future heartache. Kids are open, naive, earnest little creatures. When you were little, you were open. That means anyone could just walk in the door to your heart. Over time, enough people much up the place and you get hurt. I used to think everyone was like me until enough painful experiences closed the doors. These voices form out of necessity —  bandaids over wounds.

“Is this really the smartest thing to do right now?”

As an adult, I’ve cultivated newer voices that serve me better. It’s a matter of habit - quiet the older, outdated voices and practice voices that are nicer or who steer me in the better direction. Luckily, I had good parents who installed a decent array of functional voices in my head. My toolbox didn’t start out empty. I’ve taken it upon myself to pick up where my parents left off in regards to parenting. No matter what point you start from, once you’re an adult, it’s up to you to wrangle the chorus inside you.

We all end up doing this no matter the quality of parenting or the life experiences. One place to begin is to stop avoiding the critical voices. Instead, turn towards them and challenge their logic. It was almost as if I shocked them and they’ve since shifted into kinder versions of themselves. These days, they alert me when something is awry. Most of their alarms are nothing. Sometimes, I think they just want some comforting.

“It’s going to be okay. We’ve got this.”

I have a few favorite ones now - the practical, mentor voice, the cheerleader, the soothing bestie. I really enjoy the inside of my head. The more I invest on redecorating and tidying up in there, the easier new ones come to me. I’m the one I charge now. I set the rules and I say, “No meanies allowed!” They might grumble but they all listen to me.