Negative self talk is sneaky. It slips in quietly, almost unnoticeable, until suddenly it’s running the show. You’re about to try something new and there it is, whispering: “You’re not good enough,” or “People are going to judge you.” And the thing is, it doesn’t just appear out of thin air. It’s built over years. Through little comments, constant comparisons, subtle conditioning, and moments where you were told you weren’t enough.
Slowly, those voices stop sounding like other people and start sounding like you. And that’s when it gets dangerous, when you start believing them.
I’ve felt this deeply in my own life.
As a kid, I was bold. I’d speak up without hesitation, jump into things without overthinking. But as I grew older, I started noticing what teachers, peers, and people around me seemed to value. I noticed what got praised, what got criticized, and what got quietly judged. And little by little, that carefree boldness shrank. I became cautious. I became overly self-aware. And instead of leaning into my voice, I began second-guessing it. Unlearning that habit, and finding my way back to that boldness, has been a battle.
One of the recent tests of that battle was starting my YouTube channel. Honestly, it wasn’t the camera or the content that scared me. It was the voice in my own head. “People will think I’m acting like a know-it-all.” “They’ll laugh at the way I speak.” “They’ll judge my content, notice how basic my video production is.” Hitting publish felt like stepping under a spotlight where every insecurity was exposed. But here’s the truth: the only way I moved forward was by showing up anyway. Every video became less about looking perfect and more about proving to myself that I could do it.
And it doesn’t stop there. The same voice creeps into work too. I’ll be in a discussion with an idea on my mind, but then the spiral begins: “What if this sounds stupid? What if people are silently judging me? What if I look like I’m trying too hard?” In those moments, I shrink. I stay quiet, even when I know my perspective might actually help. It’s wild how the noise in our heads can feel louder than reality.
That’s the trap of self judgment. It convinces us that our imagined fears are real. That everyone sees us the way we see ourselves, through a harsh, unforgiving lens. But most of the time, it’s just not true. Unless someone openly says, “This isn’t good enough,” the rest is just us replaying old tapes.
So what’s the way out? It’s not about silencing the voice. (if you’ve tried that, you know it’s impossible!) For me, it’s been about catching it in the act and pausing. Asking myself: “Is this real, or am I just scared?” “Is this fact, or just a story I’m spinning in my head?”
And here’s the part that’s still a work in progress. The voice doesn’t disappear. It still shows up, sometimes louder than ever. But now, I’m learning to notice it. To speak to myself the way I would to a close friend, with kindness instead of criticism. And to take the step anyway, even if my hands are shaking.
Because more than anything else, it’s action that chips away at the voice. Every time I choose to show up, every time I take a step forward, every time I move in spite of the fear, the voice loses just a little bit of its power.
And as cliché as it sounds, I’ve learned this: growth doesn’t happen when you finally feel “ready.” It happens when you decide to move forward right in the middle of the discomfort.
Akkshaya Varkhedi 