Last Thursday night, I led a free preview teleclass to introduce my NO EXCUSES Coaching™ programs and club. In general, I was really pleased with the way the class went: the agenda I'd set seemed to work well even though there never seems to be quite enough time and the system cut me off in mid-sentence when my 55-minute "hour" was up; the people who attended were fantastic and asked great questions; I did a fabulous live NO EXCUSES Coaching™ demo with a very brave woman; and the conferencing system -- the first time I'd used this particular one -- call quality seemed fine and they delivered my MP3 audio recording of the session within two hours, as promised.

It was when I listened to the audio recording that she showed up to torment me the way she's done my entire life: my Inner Critic.

I've been a musical performer, singer and public speaker for more than two thirds of my life, and when I'm up there in front of an audience, I really love it, although I can still get those pesky stage-fright butterflies at times. But there is one thing that makes me cringe about my public performances: hearing my recorded voice. Ugh! Now, normally, I don't think there is anything particularly bad about the way I speak or the tonal quality of my voice, other than I'm an American and my version of English will never sound posh or cultured the way it would if I had been raised in a certain upper class in England, and whenever Americans attempt to speak more "British" it ends up sounding like an affectation (Madonna, I'm looking at you). In fact, as Americans go, I have frequently been complimented on the neutrality of my accent; despite having grown up in northern "New Joisey", I sound nothing like a character on The Sopranos and bear no trace of a New York/Tri-State Area accent, and people who don't know where I'm from have a hard time placing my origins within the country. Chalk it up to having grown up closer to Pennsylvania than New York City, and I've also consciously worked at neutralizing the vocal impact of being a Jersey Girl. I don't have the big hair and long fake nails, so why should I have the tough "you can just kiss my Jersey ass" accent? I keep my "toughness" on the inside, where it belongs.

Yet when I hear my recorded voice, whether I'm speaking or singing, it absolutely horrifies me to the point of embarrassment. I am aware that our own voices sound much different to us than they do to other people, and that's because we're hearing them from inside our own heads. I'm sure that my speaking voice sounds just fine to everyone else, and my husband loves it when I sometimes sing around the house. But I can't seem to stop my inner critic from shaking her head in pity each time I'm confronted with my own recorded vocals. And it didn't help that on this particular recording, for some reason, I sound like I'm LISPING the entire time. Seriously, I sound like a female Humphrey Bogart. To my knowledge, I am not a lisper, but listening to the recording you'd never know that.

Sure, I suppose I could always take voice-training classes, but that's not really the point. The point is: the Inner Critic is alive and thriving in my head, just waiting for her chance to come out and rip into me like a gorilla with a banana.

We all have an Inner Critic. It might sound like your mother who was never happy with anything you did ("Are you wearing THAT? It makes you look so FAT!"); or that teacher who humiliated you in high school ("You might as well forget about getting into a decent college, with YOUR Geometry grades"; or that playground bully who tormented you ("Hey, look at Clumsy over there! Ha ha ha!"), or even that boss-from-hell who made you feel you'd never be able to do anything right ("Are you normally this dense or is it just when you're working here? Didn't you understand what I wanted you to do?") The Inner Critic knows just what buttons to push with our fragile egos, and she gets her jollies from punching those buttons with every opportunity we give her.

Here's the thing to know about the Inner Critic: she's not real. She's just the accumulation the past criticism of others, coupled with our own fears and misguided perceptions of ourselves (which probably evolved from other people's criticism in the first place). She's like the inner "recording" mechanism that has taken down every unkind word anyone has ever said to us, replaying it over and over wheneverwe're in a situation that requires a certain amount of self-confidence.

But those unkind words? Those past criticisms of others? THEY'RE FALSE. They aren't true. They are simply someone else's opinion, but an opinion doesn't mean it's FACTUAL.

I'm not sure where my Inner Critic got the fodder for her criticism of my vocal talents; maybe it was that time when I had to give my first oral report in English class and I got picked to go first and was the only one in the class that got a "C" for a grade. Maybe it was someone telling me I couldn't sing that well. Maybe it was just the first time that I, as a teenager (a time when we're all hyper-critical of ourselves anyway) heard my recorded speaking voice and thought, "OH MY GOD, is THAT what I SOUND like?" Who knows? It doesn't really matter WHY the Inner Critic likes to torture me about this or where it came from; the point is that none of it is TRUE.

I know, realistically, that no one else cares what my voice sounds like. No one else is judging me about it; or, if they are, then that's more about THEIR issues (maybe it stirs up their own Inner Critics) than it is about me, and if someone is going to judge me harshly because of the sound of my voice then perhaps that's not someone I need to be spending my time with anyway. And when I'm honest, there's nothing "wrong" with my voice. It is what it is, nothing more, nothing less. It may not be perfect and it is probably not the most beautiful voice in the world, but it's just fine and I'm grateful to have the ability to use my voice to communicate with the people I love and to reach out to people.

Whenever I am tempted to let the Inner Critic get the better of me, it helps to remind myself of how grateful I am to have so many GOOD things going on in my life. As far as my voice is concerned, I think of a young friend of mine who, because of a variety of health issues she's had since birth, has only the ability to speak at a whisper, and chances are, this condition will never get any better. My voice may not be all that I'd wish, but it's strong and clear and powerful. And my husband is rather fond of my voice. What more can I really ask or expect?

Another way I fight off the Inner Critic is to laugh at her, to mock her. Critics HATE to be laughed at and made fun of, don't they? I imagine myself facing my Critic and blowing a big raspberry or thumbing my nose at her, and in my mind's eye she gets so angry at my disrespect that she puffs up like Harry Potter's horrible Aunt Marge and floats away. Critics are generally nothing more than big windbags full of hot air anyway, so this imagery works really well for me.

So, once again, I close the door on the Inner Critic. She will no doubt reappear, sooner or later, with some new ways to irritate my ego. And I'll be once again called upon to face her squarely and stare her down. Her arrival gives me an opportunity to work through old, useless, self-critical tapes that are remnants of the past and which today serve no useful purpose. Other than that, I don't need her presence in my life, so the sooner I get rid of her, the better off I am.

Bold Tip of the Week

When your Inner Critic comes out to play with your self-confidence, it's important to nip it in the bud immediately. The longer you allow yourself to engage with that false voice inside of you, the more damage it can do. When you detect the presence of your Inner Critic battering away at your ego, you can put an abrupt end to it by simply saying (or thinking): "STOP!" Literally saying/thinking the word STOP breaks the internal pattern of negative thinking and gives your brain a moment to pause and reflect, and during this pause you have the opportunity to recenter yourself again, with more positive thoughts.