There are moments when something from the past resurfaces out of nowhere. There is no clear trigger or obvious reason for it; nevertheless, it’s a memory that is vivid enough to pull you back in time and make you feel something you thought you had moved past. That happened to me this past week. At first, I noticed how differently I responded to it. There was less sting and no heaviness. I could soothe myself in a way I didn’t know how to back then. Then, another thought followed that this is what generational conditioning looks like in real time. I even found myself laughing a little at the absurdity of what was said to me, but I assure you that when it happened, it didn’t feel absurd. On the contrary, it felt deeply personal, painful and defining. In this week’s blog, I’m sharing this memory with you because I want you to understand that even the most well-meaning people in your life, such as your family, your well-wishers, close friends, can unknowingly shape how you see yourself in ways that aren’t true. Over time, their repeated voices and opinions become your inner voice.
My memory is from when I was around eight years old, maybe younger. I was at the American Embassy in Bombay with my parents and extended family. I believe we were there for a green card interview, though the details are a little hazy. What I do remember clearly is how nervous I felt. Even though my father had told me to just be myself, I felt immense pressure not to mess up. Somewhere along the way, I had already begun to believe that I was someone who messed things up. Consequently, I spend most of childhood and 20s making myself small and even invisible.
Although the immigration officer was kind and warm, I was petrified of having to answer his questions. One of his questions was about who I knew in New York. When he asked me, my mind froze. He coaxed me gently and encouragingly, but it took me some time to respond. All I could think about was how to say my uncle’s name without adding “kaka,” which means father’s brother. In our home, how we address our elders is taken seriously, which is why I didn’t know how to separate that from what was being asked of me.
I eventually said the name followed by “kaka.” The officer smiled and then asked about other family and cousins. Again, I felt stuck. How could I say my cousin’s name, someone ten years older than me, without adding “bhai” (brother)? It felt like another dilemma and disrespect. This time, when I hesitated, I looked at my dad almost expecting him to read my mind as to why I was stalling. Of course he’s not a mind reader, so he nudged me to answer. I said the name followed by “bhai.”
It felt like the interview had not gone well, and my father was visibly upset. I remember putting my head in my mother’s lap, already feeling disappointed in myself. It was then that my father said something, which stayed with me for years. He ruthlessly stated that I didn’t deserve to go to the well-reputed English medium school I attended at that time. I certainly hadn’t handled myself like someone who went to one of the best schools in Bombay. When I heard his words, I heard that I wasn’t worthy. I believed that I was not smart enough. I told myself that I wasn’t capable enough.
I carried these false beliefs because of my nervous response in an interview that, in hindsight, wasn’t that serious. The officer understood. He saw a child. We got our green cards. All was good. Sadly, I didn’t see it that way for a long time and ended up internalizing the criticism.
I want to pause here and convey clearly that I love my father deeply. This isn’t about blaming parents or critiquing how anyone was raised. I believe unfailingly that my parents did the best they could with what they knew. Plus, I’m not interested in holding onto what they didn’t do to stay stuck in a narrative of victimhood. I don’t hold the incident against my father, because I started realizing some time ago that people, including parents, can only give you what they are capable of giving.
My father once shared a story from his own childhood. He had thrown a wrapper out of a window, and his father caught him. He was called over and slapped hard across the face as a lesson to never litter again. To this day, I have never seen my father litter. If this is how he was taught manners, now how could he be capable of much less brutality?
Thankfully, he never laid a finger on me, but his words have often cut me deep. The instance at the embassy was one of those times. What his father expressed through physical discipline, mine expressed through words. And while the methods were different, the impact still left a mark. There are no excuses for questionable parenting, but holding on to those shortfalls held me back from becoming my whole self. As a result, I decided a long time ago to work through the past.
Until I started healing a few years ago, I struggled with extremely low self-esteem. If you’ve been following my blog, you already know this. My inner dialogue was harsh, critical, and unforgiving. That damn voice was relentless and terribly unkind. Due to this self-talk, I often felt ashamed of what I said, what I did, and who I was.
I didn’t know how to forgive myself. Or accept myself. Or speak to myself with even a little bit of compassion. That kind of conditioning eventually seeps into areas outside of one’s thoughts. It showed up in my body, behaviors, and relationships. It showed up as perfectionism, the need to control, the desire for validation, and chronic dissatisfaction.
Some of what I am sharing might resonate with you if you were frequently told growing up that you’re lazy; not cut out for this; bad at relationships; not disciplined enough; not smart enough; not brave enough; and other such criticisms.
There’s also a good chance that you’ve made those statements your truth. Not because they are facts, but because they were repeated enough times that you stopped questioning them. Thus, you absorbed someone else’s perception and made it your identity.
That said, all is not lost. A shift is possible. The next time that voice in your head says something critical, please pause. Instead of believing it immediately, get curious. Go into what I like to call “Sherlock mode.”
Ask yourself pertinent questions like where the thought came from; who does it sound like; and is it a fact or familiar way of thinking. This line of questioning matters, because most of the time, these are not truths; they are learnt beliefs. And what’s learnt can be questioned. This is about becoming aware, recognizing that not every voice in your head belongs to you, and letting go of beliefs that were never yours to begin with.
The work here isn’t easy, because it’s not. In fact, it’s uncomfortable. It’s layered. And it requires patience. Even after all these years, once in a while, I catch my inner critic roaring its head, but the difference now is that I notice it sooner. More importantly, I know how to ensure it doesn’t stay long. I respond to it with more kindness and awareness, which slowly changes everything.
When you begin challenging your inner critic, you will also challenge others’ harsh criticism of you. There is a difference between constructive and destructive feedback, and you will learn to distinguish between the two. That’s when the need to constantly prove yourself, to be liked, and to feel “enough” will dissipate.
If you take one thing away from this week’s blog, I hope it is that even though your inner critic might be loud, convincing, and sound like you, it’s not always yours. The moment you begin to separate from it is the moment you begin to come back to yourself.
As always, I am here to support you all the way. I hope you keep in touch with your stories, thoughts, and feedback. If you wish to learn more, please stop by www.imperfectbodies.com. Lastly, if you enjoyed this information, then please share it with others.
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All the best,
Chaitni