Who’s Speaking?
You’re not one voice. You’re a room full of them.
“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” —Carl Jung
Say you’re on the edge of a decision.
Big or small, it doesn’t matter.
Something in you says: “Do it.”
Another voice cuts in: “Don’t be reckless.”
Then:
“But what if it works?”
“What if it doesn’t, and you look like an idiot?”
Then a cooler voice: “You’ve done harder things.”
Followed by a sharper one: “Yeah, and remember how that ended?”
A quieter voice chimes in: “You’ve survived worse.”
It’s fast.
It’s layered.
It feels like thinking, but it’s not just one thought.
It’s a room full of voices.
Arguing. Advising. Accusing. Protecting. Pushing.
And all of them sound like you.
But they’re not the same you.
One is bold.
One is scared.
One is tired.
One is wise.
One wants to keep you safe.
Another wants to see you rise.
One guards you fiercely.
Another dares you to soar.
Last week, I was offered a lucrative consulting gig that clashed with my startup’s vision.
One voice urged, “Take the cash, think of the twins.”
Another whispered, “You’ve said no before and built something bigger.”
I turned it down.
Not because I was certain.
But because I knew which voice I wanted to follow.
And still, I felt torn.
I had to decide who to hear.
So when you say, “I’m torn,”
Who’s speaking right now?
And who’s missing from the conversation?
You Are a Mosaic
You are not one voice.
Not one story.
Not one mood.
Not one belief system on repeat.
You’re a mosaic of inner perspectives, some loud, some buried, some still rehearsing their lines.
There’s the part of you that wants to protect.
The part that wants to run.
The one that still hopes.
The one that’s given up.
The one who cracks jokes to avoid feeling anything too deeply.
These aren’t just moods.
They’re characters.
Not invented, but inherited.
Formed by experience.
Shaped by memory.
Often based on someone you once needed to be.
Or someone you wish had been there for you.
Psychologists refer to them as parts, subpersonalities, or archetypes.
Carl Jung named them the shadow, the wise old man, the eternal child.
IFS therapy talks about managers, exiles, and protectors.
Some spiritual teachers refer to them as ego patterns or energy forms.
But you don’t need a label to know what it feels like when your inner critic grabs the mic.
Or when your inner child takes the wheel.
Or when your inner warrior finally stands up.
Once you start noticing, you’ll hear them everywhere.
That’s probably why ancient people (and some modern ones too) thought these voices were gods.
Or spirits.
Or daemons whispering into your ear from another realm.
You’d hear something in your head and say, “Ah, yes, that must be Athena.”
Not: “That’s my fear of disappointing my dad dressed up in metaphysical armor.”
And they weren’t entirely wrong.
Because when a voice changes your actions, your tone, your posture, your fate, what else would you call it?
Choose Who Speaks
The goal isn’t to silence them.
It’s to recognize them, so you can choose who gets to speak and when.
Most people live at the mercy of the loudest voice.
They don’t realize it’s a voice.
They call it “gut feeling.”
Or “that little voice in my head.”
Or worse: me.
But when you don’t know who’s speaking, you can’t know if you should trust them.
Sometimes fear disguises itself as reason.
Sometimes ambition forgets to bring compassion.
Sometimes your past answers questions you haven’t even been asked yet.
And when that happens, you react.
You ghost the person you wanted to confront.
You say yes when you meant no.
You blow up (or shrink down) without knowing why.
Self-awareness isn’t just about having voices.
It’s about hearing them.
Knowing who’s who.
And if you're wondering:
Wait… if all these voices aren’t me, then who am I?
There’s the voice that pushes.
The one that panics.
The one that pleads.
And then there’s you, the one who hears them.
You’re not the pusher, the panicker, or the pleader.
You’re the one with the option to pause.
To ask: “Do I agree with this voice?”
To choose.
That pause, that gap between voice and action.
Might be the closest thing we have to a self.
Not a single identity.
But the space that holds them all without being swallowed.
The Meeting Room
Imagine your mind as a meeting room.
A long table. Many chairs.
Each one filled by a part of you with something to say:
The planner, plotting every step.
The child, tugging at your sleeve.
The critic, arms crossed.
The rebel, itching to break free.
The cautious one, checking the exits.
The ambitious one.
The one who still thinks you’re fifteen.
And (if you’re lucky)
A wise one who doesn’t need to speak loudly to be heard.
They all show up.
Some uninvited.
Some long overdue.
Some wearing disguises, hoping you won’t recognize them.
This isn’t dysfunction.
It’s not pathology.
It’s how we’re built, layered, dynamic, conflicting, and authentic.
The goal isn’t to make them agree.
It’s to recognize who’s speaking… and decide who to listen to.
Because you’re not any one of them.
You’re the one who calls the meeting.
The one who hears them all.
The one who decides what happens next.
And if you don’t take that role?
The loudest voice will.
The angriest one.
The oldest wound.
Which is why this work matters.
Not to flatten your inner world into some tidy “authentic self.”
But to learn how to lead it.
What’s Next
In this Voices Within series, we’ll explore your inner voices, not to fix them, but to understand them.
We’ll ask:
– Which voices shape me most?
– Which ones shout the loudest, and why?
– And how do I know which voice deserves the mic?
Because not all inner voices are created equal.
Some are echoes of experience.
Some are hand-me-downs.
Some are still forming.
And some we’ve been imitating for so long, we’ve forgotten we don’t believe them anymore.
Before we meet your inner mentor, warrior, or child.
We’ll begin with a more fundamental question:
What gives a voice weight?
And how do you know which ones to trust?
Next week, in You Can’t Just Make It Up, we’ll explore why some voices are forged in memory and experience (while others are just noise), setting the stage for meeting your inner archetypes.
Until then, pause, and choose who leads your inner boardroom.
Book Recommendation
No Bad Parts by Richard C. Schwartz
It’s a flashlight for your inner world. It shows you that your critic, your scared kid, your controller, they aren’t flaws. They’re parts trying to help, even when they stumble. Read it to meet your voices with curiosity, not shame.