Let’s talk about your inner bitch. We all have one. I named mine Marcy. She pops into my head whenever I’m faced with a dilemma that scares me - presenting me with a myriad of problems to every potential solution.
She’s quick to confirm my greatest fears which include (but are not limited to): You’re not smart enough, you don’t think or speak fast enough, you suck at [insert skillset here].
She’s telepathic. She knows that people’s intentions in my life are usually laden with malintent. She has a crystal ball that tells her things aren’t likely to turn out the way I want.
For decades, Marcy ran the show - the show of how I felt. In the years leading up to my mastering Marcy, I forced myself to take positive action despite her pessimism looping through my head. But Marcy made me fucking miserable. She was like the meanest of mean girls, only worse because I couldn’t get away from her.
Shrinks suggested that I silence her. “Darcy, just press the mute button in your head and you’ll be rid of her.”
What a great idea, as though if such a button were within reach, I wouldn’t have pressed it before spending a hundred thousand dollars on therapy.
I’m not instantly resourceful when it comes to myself, but when it comes to my clients I’m a passionate problem solver. Years after that therapist instructed me to press my non-existent mute button, I discovered the following:
It’s impossible to instruct oneself to not have a thought. The mere suggestion of the subject directs the brain to hunt for the thought non grata.
What we can do is redirect the brain to a preferred thought. Which got me thinking: Who would I want to reside inside my head instead of Marcy?
Ideally, I’d have wanted Dr. Darcy, however, early on, I wasn’t able to tap into the part of me that takes care of my clients.
This is a very common occurrence for people. Initially, we find it easier to channel the voice of a nurturing friend, a coach, or a mentor. So I tapped into my friend Michelina’s voice, who has always been a super supportive force in my life. And I named the voice my Supportive Voice.
Anytime Marcy would rear her hateful head, I’d call up Michelina / my Supportive Voice.
Over time (a few months of real conscious intention), my brain automatically hunted for my Supportive Voice whenever the bitch voice began talking.
So it’s less about taming your inner bitch than it is about developing your supportive voice, but let’s be honest: Who the hell would have clicked on a post entitled, Developing Your Supportive Voice?
PS - Don’t leave without joining my tribe below!