On Saturday night, I got into an argument with Lola. She was loud, persistent, and almost convincing. The more she spoke, the smaller I felt. My chest tightened. My heart raced. My thoughts spiraled. I could feel myself moving closer and closer to that familiar place where everything feels impossible and giving up seems like the only sensible option. In this week’s blog, I share who Lola is and how she almost convinced me to quit, what happened when one of my biggest fears came true, and how a difficult evening became an unexpected lesson in trusting myself.
The frustrating part about conversations with Lola is that she often sounds reasonable. She knows exactly where my insecurities live and has no problem using them against me. She reminds me of every mistake I’ve ever made, every fear I’ve ever carried, and every reason why staying in my comfort zone is the safer choice.
The truth is, Lola and I have known each other for a very long time. Lola is my inner critic.
There is no deep meaning behind the name. One day, I simply decided she needed one. Giving her a name helps me create some distance between her voice and my own. It reminds me that not every thought I think is a fact and not every fear deserves my trust.
Most days, Lola is manageable, but last Saturday, she was not, and let me tell you why.
This past week, I had the opportunity to host a workshop through a local organization that focuses on overall wellness. Their events range from sound healing and yoga to group runs and other experiences that support mental and physical well-being. Collaborating with this organization was a big deal for me.
I wanted to partner with them for over a year. I knew the founder. We were friendly, and, yet, every time I thought about reaching out, self-doubt found a way to stop me.
What if I wasn’t ready? What if I wasn’t experienced enough? What if no one signed up? What if people didn’t connect with what I had to offer?
The funny thing about fear is that it often disguises itself as practicality. We convince ourselves that we’re being realistic when, in reality, we’re simply avoiding discomfort. Eventually, a few other opportunities didn’t work out, and I decided to stop waiting for confidence to magically appear.
I reached out, and the response was warm, encouraging, and immediate. Within days, my workshop was scheduled. The moment it became real, I threw myself into preparation. I researched, refined, and practiced. I did what I could to work with their marketing team, and I thought through every detail. Since the audience would be a mix of English and Hindi speakers, I adjusted my delivery to make sure everyone felt included.
But this time, I also made a promise to myself: I didn’t want perfectionism to rob me of the experience.
For most of my life, I’ve approached meaningful opportunities with a mindset of proving myself. I’ve wanted everything to go perfectly. I’ve wanted everyone to like it. I’ve wanted validation that I was doing a good job, but this time I was not going to put myself through that ringer. This time, I wanted to enjoy the process.
Whenever I caught myself spiraling while preparing, I reminded myself that my job wasn’t to be perfect. My job was simply to show up fully and do my best.
Then Saturday evening arrived, and so did the message: Registrations had not reached the minimum requirement, so the workshop would likely be cancelled.
I remember staring at my phone, and for a few moments, I couldn’t think. My worst fear had come true. All those insecurities I had been managing suddenly felt justified. Maybe people weren’t interested. Maybe my message wasn’t clear. Maybe my work didn’t resonate with the people in my city. Maybe I wasn’t bringing anything exciting enough.
I wasn’t offering pottery. I wasn’t offering aerial yoga. I wasn’t offering sound baths. All I was offering was myself. My knowledge. My creativity. My way of healing, which embraces slowing down enough to hear yourself again. And none of that felt enough when I read the text message. It’s exactly what Lola wanted me to believe.
She arrived right on schedule. She said:
“I told you this would happen.”
“Nobody wants this.”
“Your work isn’t relevant.”
“You should be embarrassed.”
“Why would you think people would show up?”
For every argument I made, she had another one ready. Soon, I wasn’t just worried about registrations, I was worried about everything. What if people weren’t informed about a venue change? What if nobody showed up? What if everyone showed up and regretted coming? What if I became the cautionary tale of someone who overestimated herself?
I was embarrassed, ashamed, and ready to crawl into bed and disappear, but then something interesting happened. Instead of arguing with Lola, I listened to what she was trying to tell me. Years ago, I would have treated her like the enemy. I would have tried to silence her. I would have fought every thought, but healing has changed the way I view my inner critic.
I no longer believe she’s trying to sabotage me. Instead, I think she’s trying to protect me. Not in a way that necessarily helps me get out of my comfort zone, but she’s doing her part, nevertheless. Her job is to keep me safe and comfortable, and I was miles outside my comfort zone.
For the first time ever, I didn’t tell her to shut up. On the contrary, I thanked her. I acknowledged that she was scared. I acknowledged that I was scared, too. Then I reminded both of us that discomfort isn’t danger.
No matter what happened the next day, I would survive it. The workshop could fail. Nobody could show up. People could dislike it. And, in the grand scheme of things, I would still be okay.
Oddly enough, that’s when her voice began to soften. It wasn’t because I won. It was because I stopped fighting. Once the panic settled, I was finally able to see what was actually happening.
I had received useful feedback that my marketing message wasn’t as clear as it could have been. That’s valuable information for the future. I had a coordinator working hard to communicate updates to the people who had registered. I had a husband who immediately switched into solution mode and offered our family restaurant as an alternative venue. He arranged seating, helped gather supplies, and remembered details I would have forgotten in my stressed state. I had family, friends, clients, and loved ones cheering me on. I had people rooting for me. I was being given a second chance, and I was going to take it however it played out. The more I focused on what was working, the less convincing Lola became.
By the time I went to bed, another voice had returned: My own. The one that reminded me why I wanted to do this in the first place. That night, before falling asleep, I made a decision. Whether one person showed up or twenty, I was going to give it everything I had. And that’s exactly what I did.
I loved every moment of it. I watched people laugh, cry, move, breathe, reflect, and reconnect with themselves. I watched strangers soften. I watched people put down, even temporarily, some of the weight they had been carrying. I watched healing happen in small but meaningful ways. Honestly, I couldn’t have asked for more.
Looking back, the workshop wasn’t the most important part of the story, but the conversation with Lola was. Healing isn’t about eliminating your inner critic, because she won’t fully go away. After all, she is trying to protect you. Healing is more about learning how to respond differently when she shows up. Eventually, she will allow you to take the lead and trust what is to come.
We all have our version of Lola. Maybe yours tells you that you’re not good enough. Maybe yours tells you that it’s too late to make a change. Maybe yours reminds you of every failure and conveniently forgets every success.
No matter what your critic tells you, please know that the goal isn’t to get rid of that voice entirely; however, the goal is to recognize it without handing over the keys. It’s to remember that fear gets a vote, but it doesn’t get the final decision.
One of the participants shared something beautiful during the workshop, and I want to pass along his message to you. He said that sometimes healing begins by simply looking at yourself in the mirror. It starts by seeing yourself clearly and honestly, besides looking at your flaws, mistakes, and all the things you wish were different.
I think that’s where conversations with our inner critics begin to change. It’s not when we finally silence them, but it’s when we stop believing that they are the only voice worth listening to.
This is my small corner where I share what I’m still learning how to hold. Somehow, you might find parts of yourself in it, especially the messy and quiet ones you don’t always show. If you see yourself here, you’re not alone, because we are all working on coming home to ourselves.
My 5-minute guide for when you’re feeling overwhelmed, stuck, or lost. Reset your energy and reconnect with yourself. Bonus audio guide included. Available here: Energy Guide
All the best,
Chaitni