I came across this recently in some training I was undertaking, and it really resonated with me.

“If the voice in your head is not speaking to you with compassion, don’t believe it.”

I’ve been sitting with it ever since.

Because in my work with clients, and in my own life, I know how loud that unkind voice can be. And how easily we mistake it for the truth.

Compassion is a value that sits at the very heart of everything I do as a therapist. It shapes how I try to be with the people I work with. And it’s something I gently, consistently encourage people to turn towards themselves.

Because for most of us, that’s the harder direction.

What Does That Voice Say to You?

Take a moment to think about the voice in your head. The one that shows up when you make a mistake. When you look in the mirror. When you compare yourself to someone else. When you feel like you’ve let someone down.

What does it say?

For many people, it says things they would never dream of saying to someone they love. It’s critical. Relentless. It calls them stupid, weak, too much, not enough.

It replays their worst moments. And then it presents those moments as evidence of who they fundamentally are.

And we believe it. Because it’s familiar. Because it’s been there so long, it sounds like our own voice.

But familiarity isn’t the same as truth.

Where the Voice Comes From

That critical inner voice didn’t arrive from nowhere. It was learned.

Most of the time, it’s a collection of messages absorbed over years — from parents, teachers, siblings, peers, and culture. The things we were told, directly or indirectly, about our worth, our capability, our lovability.

Some of those messages were well-intentioned. Some weren’t. But over time, they became internalised. They stopped being someone else’s words and began to feel like our own beliefs.

The voice that says “you’re not good enough” isn’t the voice of truth. It’s the voice of someone who once made you feel that way. And it got stuck.

In Transactional Analysis, one of the approaches I use in my work, we call these internalised voices “injunctions”: the messages we took on in childhood about who we are and what we’re allowed to be. They can be incredibly powerful. But they can also be examined. Understood. And, gradually, changed.

Why Self-Compassion Is Not the Same as Letting Yourself Off the Hook

I want to address this directly, because it comes up a lot.

When I talk about self-compassion, people sometimes worry it means making excuses. Going easy on yourself. Lowering your standards.

It doesn’t.

Think about how you’d respond if a good friend came to you having made a mistake. You wouldn’t berate them. You wouldn’t tell them they were hopeless. You’d be honest, yes, but you’d be kind. You’d help them understand what happened, learn from it, and move forward.

That’s what self-compassion looks like. Not excusing. Not avoiding accountability. Just treating yourself with the same basic decency you’d extend to someone you care about.

Professor Kristin Neff, a leading UK-recognised researcher on self-compassion, has found that people who treat themselves with more kindness tend to show higher levels of motivation and resilience, not lower. When we’re not spending all our energy fighting our own inner critic, we have so much more capacity to grow and change.

The Real Cost of the Unkind Voice

Living with a harsh inner critic is exhausting.

It drives anxiety. It fuels shame. It keeps us small.

It can stop us from trying new things, because the voice has already told us we’ll fail. It can keep us stuck in situations that don’t serve us, because we’ve come to believe, somewhere deep down, that we don’t deserve better.

It can make it very hard to receive love or care from others, because what they’re offering contradicts what the voice has said about who we are.

This is why self-compassion isn’t just a nice idea. It has real consequences for how we live.

What Does the Compassionate Voice Sound Like?

If you’re not sure, here’s a way in.

Think about someone in your life who has truly believed in you. A friend, a teacher, a grandparent, a mentor. Someone who saw you clearly, your struggles and your strengths, and was in your corner anyway.

How did they speak to you? How did it feel to be on the receiving end of that?

That’s the quality of voice you deserve to speak to yourself with. Not endlessly positive, compassionate voices can name hard truths. But always, always kind.

If nobody like that comes to mind, that matters too. Sometimes the work in therapy is partly about experiencing, perhaps for the first time, what it feels like to be held with warmth and without judgment. That experience can start to fill a gap.

A Small Practice to Try

The next time you notice your inner critic speaking — and once you start noticing, you’ll notice it a lot — try pausing and asking yourself one question.

“Would I say this to someone I love?”

If the answer is no, and it usually will be, then ask yourself what you would say instead.

You don’t have to believe the kinder version straight away. That takes time. But speaking it, even quietly, even to yourself, is a beginning.

Because here’s what I know to be true, after years of this work.

The critical voice is not telling you who you are. It’s telling you what you were once made to believe about yourself.

And that is something that can change.

You Don’t Have to Do This Alone

Learning to treat yourself with compassion is one of the most transformative things I see happen in therapy. It’s rarely quick. It asks something of us. But it is possible.

And the difference it makes, to how you feel, how you relate to others, how you move through the world, is profound.

If the voice in your head is unkind to you, you don’t have to keep believing it. And you don’t have to work out how to change it on your own.

I offer therapy online and face-to-face in Wilmslow, as well as walking therapy sessions outdoors. If any of this has resonated with you, I’d love to hear from you.

 

 

Eileen Fisher

Eileen Fisher

Hello, I’m Eileen Fisher. I’m an indoor and outdoor therapist and nutritionist. I offer counselling and psychotherapy for both individuals and couples, as well as nutrition advice and support around disordered eating.