Couverture de Episode 258: “All the Voices But Mine”

Episode 258: “All the Voices But Mine”

Episode 258: “All the Voices But Mine”

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 Welcome back to Infinite Threads. I’m your host, Bob.There’s a strange moment many of us experience, often quietly, often without language for it.It’s the moment when you realize your life sounds crowded on the inside.Not with people who are physically present—but with voices.Opinions. Expectations. Warnings. Praise you’re still chasing. Disappointments you’re still trying to avoid. Rules you never agreed to but somehow obey.You might hear a parent’s concern long after they’re gone from the room.A teacher’s judgment echoing decades later.A partner’s preference shaping choices they never asked you to make.A culture whispering what success is supposed to look like.A faith, a job, a role, a title—each leaving behind instructions.And somewhere beneath all that noise…there’s you.Still breathing. Still sensing. Still knowing.But quiet.This episode is about that quiet.Not because it’s weak—but because it’s been crowded out.Most of us don’t lose our voice all at once.We trade it away in pieces.The first trade often looks like love.We learn early that belonging sometimes requires adjustment.That approval is conditional.That harmony is rewarded more than honesty.So we soften.We agree.We nod when something inside us hesitates.Not because we’re dishonest—but because we’re human.Children are especially good at this. They are experts at survival.They read the room.They sense tension before language forms.They learn quickly which parts of themselves are welcome—and which aren’t.And so the editing begins.A question swallowed.A preference dismissed.A reaction toned down.A curiosity set aside.Each one seems small. Reasonable. Even loving.But over time, the edits accumulate.And one day, you realize something unsettling:You’re fluent in everyone else’s expectations…but unsure how to hear yourself.That’s not a failure of character.It’s a consequence of adaptation.We live in a world that rewards fitting in more than listening inward.From an early age, we’re taught to look outward for guidance.Grades. Feedback. Performance. Metrics. Comparison.Even morality is often handed down as a checklist instead of a conversation.So when faced with a decision, many of us don’t ask,“What feels true to me?”We ask:“What’s expected?”“What will keep the peace?”“What will make me acceptable?”“What will avoid conflict?”“What will keep me safe?”And slowly, subtly, our inner voice becomes optional.Not silenced by force—but by habit.The most haunting part is that this often happens without pain.Or rather, the pain becomes background noise.You don’t notice the loss because the crowd is loud.You’re busy being responsible.Being kind.Being dependable.Being the version of yourself that seems to work.Until something cracks.Sometimes it’s exhaustion.Sometimes resentment.Sometimes a quiet sadness you can’t name.Sometimes the feeling that you’re living a life that looks right—but feels hollow.That’s usually when people say things like:“I don’t know what I want anymore.”“I don’t even know who I am.”“I feel disconnected from myself.”What they often mean is:“I’ve been listening outward for so long that I forgot how to listen inward.”The tragedy isn’t that we listened to others.The tragedy is that we never learned how to listen to ourselves alongside them.Because here’s the truth most of us were never taught:Listening to your own voice is not selfish.It’s foundational.Your inner voice isn’t the loudest one.It doesn’t interrupt.It doesn’t rush.It doesn’t demand.It waits.And because it waits, it’s often mistaken for absence.But it’s not absent.It’s patient.It speaks in sensations.In quiet discomfort.In subtle resistance.In a feeling that something is off—even when you can’t explain why.In a sense of alignment when something fits—even if it scares you.This voice doesn’t shout because it doesn’t need to convince.It knows.And the longer it’s ignored, the softer it becomes—not out of weakness, but because it’s learned it won’t be heard.Many people fear that if they listened to their own voice, they’d become reckless or unkind.The opposite is usually true.People who reconnect with their inner voice often become calmer, clearer, and more compassionate—not just toward themselves, but toward others.Because when you’re no longer trying to meet everyone else’s expectations, you stop projecting them outward.You stop needing others to agree with you to feel secure.You stop resenting people for not being who you hoped they’d be.You stop confusing control with care.When you live from borrowed voices, you’re constantly bracing.When you live from your own, you’re grounded.But reconnecting doesn’t happen through rebellion.It happens through noticing.This week’s practice is intentionally small:Notice one moment today when you adjusted yourself out of habit.That’s it.Not to judge it.Not to undo it.Not ...
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