Am I My Own Abuser? Learning to Speak with Grace to Yourself

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“Be careful with the stories you tell about yourself. They will shape you.” — Glennon Doyle

If anyone else talked to me the way I talk to myself, I’d call it abuse. But when it’s my own voice? I pretend it’s “motivation.”

When the Loudest Critic Lives in My Head

Sometimes the harshest voice in the room is the one living inside my own skull. You’d think after a few decades on this planet, I’d have learned how to talk to myself like someone I actually love.

But no. Some days I treat myself like the emotional equivalent of an overworked employee with a bad manager — piling on expectations, demanding impossible productivity, and acting shocked when I’m exhausted.

And here’s the truth: if anyone else talked to me the way I talk to myself, I’d block their number so fast my phone would smoke.

Calling Abuse What It Actually Is

But when it’s me? I let it slide. I even call it “being realistic,” as if tearing myself down is somehow mature or responsible.

If a friend came to me weighed down with fear or shame, I’d offer compassion, a gentle word, a reminder that growth doesn’t come from being punched in the soul.

But myself? I reach for the metaphorical baseball bat.

So sometimes I have to ask the uncomfortable question: Am I my own abuser?

Not to heap more shame on myself, but to finally notice what’s been going on.

Learning a Kinder Way Forward

It hits me that love never demanded perfection. God never demanded it either. Grace isn’t impressed by self-punishment. Freedom doesn’t bloom in soil soaked with shame.

So I’m learning — slowly — to speak to myself the way Jesus speaks to me: gently, honestly, without the cruelty. To correct without crushing. To guide without gripping my own throat.

Because I can’t carry hope into the world if I’m still beating myself up on the inside.

“Talk to yourself like you would to someone you love.” — Brene Brown

© Gary L Ellis