For years I could tell you about my “editor.”

This was the voice that instantaneously jumped in to critique and criticize whatever I had just done or said.

I’d talk about the trauma in my childhood, and I could hear my editor voice shouting over all else. “It wasn’t that bad,” the voice would say. “So many people had it so much worse. Don’t make such a big deal about it.”

I’d say something seemingly innocuous to someone. “Don’t be such an idiot!” my editor would comment. “I can’t believe you said that!” my editor would interject. “What were you thinking???”

Now, I know there are many people who had much more trauma in their childhoods than I did. And I know that I sometimes say (at least somewhat) idiotic things. But my editor was relentless.

I’m happy to say that, over the years and through the healing work I’ve done, my editor’s voice has quieted and the criticism has lessened. I learned, over time, that my editor thought I needed protection. That, in fact, this voice protected me when I was younger. In my childhood, I needed pretty much constant surveillance to manage the upheaval and to keep myself safe. Or so it definitely felt at the time. My editor stepped in to keep me out of harm’s way by not allowing me to say or do the “wrong” thing.

My editor was and is just one of the many “parts” within me that overcompensated to keep me out of harm’s way…and that can still sometimes step in now when they think I’m in danger or that life is still unsafe.

Over the years, I learned to thank my parts for all the hard work they’ve done to take care of me, to reassure them that I am, not only, an adult who can take care of myself, but also, that I am safe. I’ve learned to reassign them to new and more helpful tasks.

I’ve learned to love, appreciate, and value my parts, and with that, I don’t really hear from my editor anymore. Not in the same way.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, and please share this post with others if it resonates with you!

Photo by Ante Gudelj on unsplash

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