Converting the voice in my head

As I reconnect to my emotions more and stay more present in my everyday experiences, I am faced with the cruelty and degradation of the rude, mean, shaming voices in my head. I've always known they were there, and was well aware that I was choosing to quiet them by numbing all of my emotions, but I did not believe there were any alternatives. These mean voices have inspired a great deal of art and activism, which has helped me to quiet them significantly over the years, yet I have continued to experience frequent harassment from these voices of internalized oppression. When I decided to reconnect to my emotions – going toward the discomfort rather than numbing it – I accepted that I would have to confront these voices more directly. In a recent blog post I shared a new technique to address these mean voices - giving them funny accents and oddly pitched voices to help emphasize that these voices in my head are not me, and that I do not have to take them seriously. This has been somewhat helpful, but they are still quite powerful. Next I started singing myself love songs, belting out alternative messages to outshout the mean voices. This is also useful, but only while I am doing it. As soon as I stop, they are just as loud as they were before. Now I am trying something even more absurd - co-opting religious zeal to quiet the mean voices - and having a good laugh at it all as I'm doing it.

My new method for defanging the mean voices is to convert them - sending tiny missionaries to proselytize to them about the inherent worth and dignity of all people. The missionaries in my head are mini-versions of people who love and support me, and believe that I am worthy of love. They wear cute missionary outfits, and have special "holy books" about inherent worth and dignity, and are working hard to convert the mean voices. They are preaching truth to power, and holding a mirror up to the mean voices, calling them out for shaming me. They hold handwritten cardboard signs proclaiming that God is Love and We are all One, and shout into their megaphones that shame is the product of a toxic society, not an indication of my worth as a person. These images amuse me, changing the emotional tone of this difficult work of freeing myself from the tyranny of shame, making those voices ridiculous and laughable. I still recognize the challenge, but it feels less like work/struggle and more like theater/play.