I'm a transformational coach and yoga teacher, and the founder of Verisage — a coaching practice for women rebuilding identity after life's biggest transitions. This piece opens a four-part October series called The Voice That Isn't You, about the inner critic: where it comes from, what it's protecting, and how to stop obeying it. This first one is personal.
I want to tell you about a morning.
When I go through a low stretch, the kind that usually lasts two or three days, mornings are the hardest part. Before my feet even touch the floor, my mind is already awake and already talking. It doesn't ask permission. It takes my thoughts, and then it takes my mood right along with them.
For a long time, I believed that voice was just me being honest with myself. Surely the harshest thing in the room was also the truest.
The last time it happened, something was different.
One thought
I woke up and felt my mind reach for a thought. Just one:
Not enough to be chosen.
And I watched it latch on.
Then I watched it start building. That one thought became a story. The story went looking for evidence. The evidence turned into a verdict about who I am and where my life is headed. While all of that was happening in my head, I could feel my body getting heavier: my chest, my arms, the actual weight of getting out of bed.
But this time, I wasn't inside it. I was watching it.
I keep coming back to that part. I was the one noticing the thought, noticing the story, noticing my body respond to it. And because I was watching instead of drowning, I could do something I had never been able to do in that state before. I could ask questions.
One by one, the thoughts that had been stacking on top of each other started to come apart. I didn't argue with them or force myself to think positive. They simply didn't hold up. Looked at clearly, they didn't make logical sense. They had felt like facts. They were fears dressed up as facts.
How I got there
I want to be honest. I didn't get there by accident, and I didn't get there overnight. That morning was the fruit of practice: years of sitting in meditation, learning to notice my thoughts without immediately becoming them. And reading, especially a book called Don't Believe Everything You Think, which gave me language for something I had felt but couldn't name.
That's what I want for you this month.
Not a quiet mind overnight. Not a life where the critic never speaks again. Just enough space between you and that voice that you can turn around and look at it. Because once you can see it, it stops being the truth and becomes something you can question.
Especially first thing in the morning. Say quietly, "There's that thought." Then watch what it tries to build.
You might be surprised how much of it falls apart once someone is finally watching.
If this landed somewhere real for you, The Voice That Isn't You is a free, write-in guide to your inner critic — where it came from, what it's protecting, the Acknowledge · Question · Choose practice, and a seven-day plan for a kinder voice.
Get the free guide →If your low seasons ever feel heavier than a practice and a good book can hold, please reach out to a therapist or doctor. That's not weakness. It's part of the practice too. 🤍