About the Voice in Our Heads That Turns Out Not to Be Our Own

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Have you ever heard a voice in your head saying things like this:

“You’re a failure.”

“You’re ugly.”

“Don’t dream too big.”

“People don’t really care.”

And we just believe it. Without asking, “Whose voice is this?”

People often say it’s the voice of the heart. But honestly, I don’t think it is.

The voice of the heart is never cruel.

The voice of the heart never belittles us.

What we hear every day is more like an old recording—the result of experiences, traumas, others’ words, and all the comments that have passed through but we’ve never deleted.

The problem is, we live with that voice, and eventually we think, “Oh, this is my voice.”

But it’s not.

There was a phase in my life when I realized the voice in my head wasn’t me.

At the time, I had just failed a project and lost a lot of money. I was sitting on the floor, in front of the window, and the voice came:

“You’re just good for nothing.”

“You’ve always been like this.”

“You’re nobody.”

And I just nodded along, accepting all those accusations.

But strangely, in that silence, there was another voice—so small, so soft:

“But I’m still learning.”

“I’m not hurting anyone.”

“I’m just human.”

And for the first time in my life, I realized: the voices in our heads are like a boarding house.

Not all the residents are the owners.

Many voices are just staying there. Some are from elementary school teachers. Some are from friends who made casual remarks. Some are from exes. Some are from toxic bosses. Some are even from people who have passed away.

We just never clean them out.

Since then, I started asking each voice one by one:

“Who are you?”

“Where are you from?”

“Are you really part of me, or have you just been staying here all along?”

And slowly, the house in my head started to get a little quieter. Not as crowded as before.

The ones left are my true voice.

The ones that don’t tell me to be great, but tell me to be honest.

The one that doesn’t force success, but invites growth.

The one that, when I fall, sits beside me and says, “It’s okay, come here first.”

We need to train our inner ears, not just to hear the outside world, but to distinguish: which voices are truly ours, and which are just ghosts from the past.

Because sometimes, our lives aren’t ruined by reality, but by the narrative in our heads that keeps playing like a broken radio—and unfortunately, we never turn it off.