Your Thoughts Are the Paintbrush

Jun 01, 2025

“The soul becomes dyed with the colour of its thoughts.” – Marcus Aurelius

This quote hit me like a truth bomb this morning while I was out walking, listening to Philosophy for Life on audiobook. I’m currently deep into a 100-day personal challenge where I read (or listen to) books outside my comfort zone, and right now—day 82—it’s philosophy’s turn.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve long since believed that we become whatever we repeatedly think. That our internal chatter isn’t just noise—it’s the script that shapes our reality.

And once you start paying attention to the words you use with yourself? Whew. It’s eye-opening.

There was a time in my life when my self-talk was brutal. Relentless. Everything I did was wrong or not good enough. I thought I was being productive, holding myself to high standards. What I didn’t realised was that I was just slowly eroding my self-worth with every “not good enough.”

We tell ourselves it’s “tough love.” That berating ourselves will keep us in line. But let’s run a quick experiment.

Try saying this a few times in your head:

I should work out. I should work out. I should work out.

Feel that? For me, I feel a pinch, like a little vice around my gut, paired with a whisper of guilt.

Now switch it to:

I get to work out. I get to work out. I get to work out.

That? That feels totally different. There’s a lightness to it. An invitation instead of a demand. Even though it’s Friday evening as I’m writing this, I’m wiped from the week, and I already worked out this morning… the idea of a short yoga session suddenly sounds good.

Same desired action. Totally different words and energy.

So why do we default to critic mode?

For a lot of us, it starts in childhood. (Sorry, parents.)

My inner critic sounds exactly like my mum. And I say that with love—she cared about me deeply—but she was also a woman raised to equate her worth with how much she did for others. Stillness wasn’t encouraged. If I sat too long, I’d hear, “What are you doing?” barked around the door frame. Reading was the only safe answer that didn’t earn me a job to do.

And I reckon that’s partly why I still read obsessively. It was my only acceptable form of rest.

Years after she passed, I realised her voice had taken up permanent residency in my head. Still poking. Still nagging.

What finally helped me? Imagining that critical voice speaking to six-year-old me.

Would I talk to her like that?

Never.

Turns out, being cruel to ourselves is just a habit. And like all habits, it can be changed. I learned to swap criticism for curiosity, meanness for kindness. Eventually, that inner drill sergeant lost her job. Turns out, kindness is much more effective—and a lot less exhausting.

4 more Tips for Dealing with a Seriously Loud Inner Critic

1. Name the little shit.

Give your inner critic a name. Something ridiculous helps. Mine was called Brenda for a while (sorry to all the Brendas out there). The point is: when you name it, you separate it from you. Brenda’s just having a bad day. Brenda needs a snack and a lie-down.

2. Talk back. Kindly, but firmly.

You wouldn’t let a stranger walk up to a child and say “you’re crap at everything, try harder,” so why let that voice get away with it inside your own head? Try:

“Thanks for your input, Brenda. But we’re doing things differently now.”

or take RuPaul’s advice:

“When my inner saboteur pops up, I just say ‘Oh, hey girl, hey’, and then I get on with it anyway.”

3. Catch the critic in the act.

Start noticing when the inner critic pipes up. Literally say (out loud if you dare), “Oh look, here comes the ‘Not Good Enough’ greatest hits album again!” Bringing a bit of humour to the moment interrupts the spiral. Awareness kills autopilot.

Or try this tip from the wonderful JVN (Jonathan Van Ness from Queer Eye, to the uninitiated)

4. Try ‘what if I’m wrong?’

This one’s my secret weapon. Your critic thrives on certainty: You’ll mess this up. You’re not cut out for it. Flip it.

“What if I’m wrong about that?”
“What if I’m actually… pretty bloody brilliant?”
“Is that true?”
Turns out, self-doubt isn’t immune to curiosity.

So yes, Descartes was onto something with “I think, therefore I am.”

And so was Marcus Aurelius, almost 1500 years earlier.

Because if our thoughts really do dye the soul, then the question becomes:

What colours are you choosing?

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