Voices Inside Our Heads - The Sequel

When I wrote my previous blog post on this topic, I was aware of how deep this subject goes and was only able to scratch the surface. I’m writing this blog post to go a little further, while acknowledging that this rabbit hole goes very deep!

I offer a free discovery call, during which I listen to the caller and try to offer some guidance as to the next steps they can take in dealing with their problem—usually, but not exclusively, drinking more than they want to. Some of these become clients, and some don’t. Either is fine—I’m just happy to be able to offer some hope and a framework for them to think differently about their issues.

On one of these calls, I was talking to a lady from Detroit. She had suffered from a great deal of trauma in her early life and had been to some dark places and pulled herself out, but she still found herself drinking too much. I started talking about the voices in our heads and how dealing with them is an important step to tackling our drinking problems. She started to cry, and at first, I thought something was upsetting her, but after a moment, she thanked me as she had been really concerned that hearing voices was a symptom of some kind of mental illness, and she felt tremendous relief to hear that others hear voices.

Now, of course, in an hour’s call, I could not tell whether she had a mental illness or not, and indeed, I am not qualified to make such a judgment, but my overall impression was that all she was experiencing was the kind of voices that many of us experience. In my previous blog post, I explained that there is a great deal of diversity in how people experience these voices and how difficult it is to explain what we are ‘hearing’ or otherwise experiencing. However, experiencing some kind of mental dialogue seems to be almost universal.

The confusion has arisen because there are some pathological conditions where hearing voices goes beyond the scope of usual experience, but that should not scare us off exploring how to harness our internal dialogue best and avoid the worst of its pitfalls.

I’m going to make a confession here—I am prone to carrying out ridiculous arguments in my head. Some of these will be topics of the day that I feel strongly about, and I am defending my position to an anonymous interlocutor. I am guessing that many of us do that (at least, I hope so!). What is particularly bonkers is when I make a case to someone I will never meet, for example, explaining to Beyonce why I don’t like her latest song. In great detail. I even find myself thinking about how I would put it diplomatically. You don’t know me well, dear reader, and don’t know the circles in which I move, but I can tell you that the chances of me meeting Beyonce are slim, to say the least, and in the unlikely event of us hanging out together, I am not sure that this is a topic of conversation that I would comfortably advance anyway.

When I catch myself doing this, I am amused and mildly berate myself for my idiocy, so it is harmless enough, I guess.

However, excessive rumination can be really harmful and anxiety-promoting and stop us from being in the present moment. So, when we find ourselves having excessive internal dialogues about future events where we obsessively consider all the horrible things that might happen, this is not helpful. Clearly, there is a balance to be struck—going through life without ever doing any planning is a lifestyle choice, but one that most of us would probably not feel comfortable with, but worrying about everything that might go wrong is not good for us. As Mark Twain said, "I've had a lot of worries in my life, most of which never happened.".

So what can help us find that balance?

I mentioned Ethan Kross’s book, Chatter: The Voice in Our Head and How to Harness It[i], in my last blog post, and I would urge anyone interested in this topic to read this excellent book. In my last blog post, I mentioned the tactic of distancing, which I think is very important, but Kross discusses other tactics, some of which I will summarise below.

Broaden your perspective.

A former colleague of mine told me a story about when he was, as a young man, working for a Nordic company. Some seemingly catastrophic event occurred, and my colleague rushed breathless into the office of the senior leader to tell him about it. The leader told him to sit down and calm down, and nonchalantly filled his pipe. “John, it will all be the same in a hundred years”, he said, once he had lit his pipe and issued a billow of smoke.

This is a perfect example of putting the problem you are ruminating about into a broader context—that might be problems you’ve solved in the past or issues others have faced.

Reframe your experience as a challenge.

Famously, the Chinese word for crisis is Wei Ji. Wei means crisis, while Ji means opportunity or a pivotal moment and turning point. Now, I don’t want to minimise the intense challenges that people sometimes face, but it is remarkable how some people can face even terminal diagnoses as opportunities to live the remainder of their lives to the full and explore their spirituality, as Simon Boas did, about whom I have written before.

Engage in mental time travel.

Imagine how you will feel about this problem in a week, a month, a year or five years. This is another way to gain perspective on your problems.

Increase your time spent in green spaces.

Time spent in nature helps to quiet the mind and replenish your resources. However, try to be present and notice your environment—it’s quite possible to go for a walk in nature and be completely oblivious to it. I know because I’ve done it!

This is just a small sample of the tools and tactics discussed in Ethan Kross’s book—there’s a lot more in there and, as I said earlier, I do recommend reading the book if this is an issue for you.

So, across these two blog posts, I have discussed some of the forms of internal dialogue we experience and where they come from. The negative self-talk we experience when we are trying and failing to give up an addiction causes cognitive dissonance and stress. If this is happening to you, I recommend that you give yourself a break and stop beating yourself up. This won’t solve your addiction by itself, but it’s a strong precursor to taking action. Some of our internal voices come from our various ‘parts’ or sub-personalities that have formed during our development as humans. We all have these, and it’s important to recognise that they are not the core of us. If these voices are very intrusive and difficult to deal with, then doing some form of therapy, such as Internal Family Systems Therapy, may be beneficial. Finally, I discussed the voices debating future actions for looming problems and mentioned some tactics for putting these problems in perspective and getting some relief.

When we are listening to the voices in our heads, we are not being present in the moment. I don’t want to make this blog post too long, but it would be remiss of me not to mention such an important antidote to chatter. I first came across the concept of mindfulness about 35 years ago when I first tried to meditate. I am committed to full transparency in these blogs, so I will admit that my efforts to become more mindful have been fitful and, at times, frustrating. I have meditated on and off for years, and I will confess that there are times in my life when I have found it hard to make the time for it and even wondered whether it is worth the time. That being said, I am sure that I have benefited from meditation, not least because it has helped me to understand that I am not my thoughts. I doubt if even the most committed Zen monk can be mindful all the time, but the way I see it is that if we can just become a little more mindful, then that’s a win. There are, of course, many books on the subject, but I will say that the two that have helped me most are The Miracle of Mindfulness by Thich Nhat Hanh and Coming to Our Senses: Healing Ourselves and the World Through Mindfulness by Jon Kabat Zinn.

[i] Ethan Cross, Chatter: The Voice in Our Head and How to Harness It. Penguin/Ebury Digital 2001