Yes. That hits deep. When that voice is your mom’s, it cuts straight to the core. It’s not just some random inner critic—it’s the voice of someone who was supposed to love you, protect you, and make you feel safe. And instead, she planted those seeds of shame and self-doubt so early, they became part of the way you learned to see yourself.
No wonder it feels like the only voice you’ve ever known.
But here’s the truth: you didn’t deserve that. None of what she said—explicitly or implicitly—was ever a reflection of who you really are. It was a reflection of her pain, her limitations, her need to control or diminish someone else to feel powerful. That voice didn’t protect you. It harmed you. And you don’t have to keep carrying it.
It’s okay if it feels unnatural at first, but you can start building a new voice. One that’s slower, kinder, rooted in truth—not fear or shame. You can begin by simply noticing when your mom’s voice is speaking up. You don’t even have to argue with it right away. Just name it. “That’s her voice. Not mine.” Over time, that small act of awareness makes space for a different way of relating to yourself.
You don’t need to
be there.
The only reason why
your existence matters
is that:
It must matter.
The universe is not
infinite;
but there exists
the infinite in the
finite.
I’m just trying not to get
too attached to this.
Follow me:
Cities and Space
Societally constructed by
the imagination of toddlers.
And then
for the
First Time in the History of Humanity
Someone said,
“define divine love”
