Reflection: Why you don't trust yourself even when you should

Why do you feel like there are two voices in your head?

One that just knows, and one that questions everything.

In this episode, we go into why you don't trust yourself even when something in you is already clear.

And to know how to listen to the right voice.

Transcript

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SPEAKER_00 0:08

Welcome to the Nellegner Stadius Podcast. Here we will explore fear, patterns, and what is meant to lead yourself through life. Have you ever experienced that you feel a version of you that already exists, but you don't really trust that version of you? And I don't mean that in some big, dramatic life way. I mean in those quiet everyday moments that no one else really sees. It's like you step into something that feels real, you say something honest or you act in a way that actually feels like you. And for a moment everything is just clear. You don't overthink. You're not trying. You're just there. And if someone would have passed you in that exact moment and asked Is this you? Would you have said yes without hesitation? But then time passes, and it's almost like something catches up with you. You start thinking about what you said. You replay how you acted in that situation. You feel into it again, but now from a distance, and suddenly it doesn't feel as clear anymore. Now you're asking yourself questions. There's a small doubt. There's a subtle feeling of was that too much? Was that really me? Or did I do that right? And it's not loud, it's not chaotic, it's actually very quiet. But it slowly pulls you away from that moment where you were just yourself. And if you would zoom out and look at it over time, it starts to feel like you're not consistent. Like you sometimes feel like yourself and sometimes you don't. Like you're almost there but not fully. And you interpret that as I still need to become more confident or I'm not fully there yet. But what if that's not true? What if that version of you that you think you need to grow into is actually already showing up, but just not being recognized? Because that gap isn't between who you are and who you could be. The gap is between who you already are in certain moments and how you see yourself after those moments. So how do you define this gap? If I could describe it in a very simple way, it's like you have two versions of yourself running at the same time. There's the version of you that exists in the moment, and there's the version of you that exists after the moment, the one who looks back, analyzes, adjusts, and questions. And the strange thing is the version of you in the moment is usually the one that's most real. That's where you speak naturally, move without overthinking, you say what's actually feels true for you, and you take space without asking for permission. It's not perfect, but it's still alive. It's like your body just knows what to do. It's like you step out of that version of yourself and start observing yourself from the outside. And instead of just letting it be, you start adjusting it. It's almost like watching a recording of yourself and thinking, hmm, I could have done that better. That wasn't exactly right. Maybe I should have just been a little bit different. And slowly you start editing something that was never meant to be edited. So the gap becomes not between who you are and who you want to be, but between the version of you that acts and the version of you that judge the action. And over time you start trusting the judging voice more than the acting voice. And that means that the more you actually show up for yourself, the more you also question it afterwards. And that creates this strange loop. Because you can have moments where you feel completely grounded and you can still walk away from it feeling unsure. Not because their moment was wrong, but because you didn't stay with it. You stepped out of it. And if you really look at your own life, you'll probably see this everywhere. You open up to something, then you close again. You take space, then you feel guilty. You feel powerful then you minimize it. It's like you constantly taking a step forward and then softly pulling yourself back. Not in a dramatic way, but just enough to not fully land in who you are. So why does this happen? The reason this happened is not because something is wrong with you. It's actually because something is very familiar in you. You're used to a certain version of yourself. Not necessarily the truest one, but the one you spent the most time being around. And that version has patterns. It can be holding back a little, adjusting to other people, questioning your own impulses, or not fully trusting your own instinct. And even if you outgrown that version, your system still recognizes it as home. So when you start showing up in a way that is more direct, more grounded, more honest, and more open, it doesn't automatically feel safe. It actually feels unfamiliar. And here's the thing, your mind don't organize your life based on what is true. It organizes your life based on what it's known. So when you step into that version of yourself that is more aligned, your system don't go Yes, this is right, stay here. It goes this is new, are you sure? And that question alone is enough to pull you slightly out of it. Not completely, just enough. Just enough for you to start thinking instead of just being. And that's where the doubt comes in. But it's important to understand this. The doubt is not proof that something is wrong. It's just a signal that something is unfamiliar. So what's actually happening is you are already showing up differently, but you don't recognize that version of you as stable yet. So instead of standing in it, you question it. And every time you question it, you slowly disconnect from it again, not because it wasn't real, but because you didn't let it be enough. And this is something that I've also noticed in myself. It took me a long time to actually see it clearly, because when I was younger, using my voice never felt natural to me. Not because I didn't have anything to say, but because somewhere along the way I learned that when I did speak it was too much. It was too strong, it was too direct, it was too revealing. And when you hear that enough, even subtle, your system starts to adapt. So what I started doing wasn't expressing myself. It was monitoring myself. Every time I spoke, it was like I had a second version of me in the background, listening, judging, and correcting. Did that sound okay? Was that too much? Should I have said something differently? And the thing is in that moment I could feel clear. Like I finally gathered my thoughts and I could speak clearly, and I thought now everyone will understand me. I could feel I speak my truth and I'm honest. But afterwards I would try to replay it, shrink it, question it, and try to adjust it even more. It's almost like imagine you're walking forward and every step you take, you turn around to check if you're allowed to take it. That's what it feels like. Not that I didn't trust how to walk, but I didn't trust that I was allowed to. And this is where it connects to what we talked earlier about. Because the gap wasn't that I didn't know who I was. The gap was that my system was more familiar with not being enough than actually standing in what was true for me. So even when I showed up in a way that was aligned for me, my mind would pull me back into something that felt more familiar. Not better and not more true, just more known to my system. And for me it wasn't about becoming anything. It was about realizing that the voice questioning me was never actually mine. It was built from other people's discomfort, other people's limitations, other people's projections. And I had just gotten used to carrying that. So the shift didn't happen in a big moment. It was much quieter than that. It was more like I stopped treating every reaction around me as proof of who I am, and starting seeing it as information about them. And slowly I didn't stop overthinking overnight, but I stopped believing everything I thought of. And that changed everything, because now I can say something. And instead of immediately turning it around to question it, I let it land, I let it exist, I let it be enough. And know that I am a human, I will make mistakes, I will do wrong, but I will always try to speak from a version of me that is true. And that's the difference, not because I became a different person, but that I stopped abandoning the one that was already there. So if you will put all of this into something very simple, it's not about who you are, and it's not about that you need to become more confident. It's that there's a version of you that already shows up in small moments where you're clear, you're grounded, and you're honest in your truth. And then there's a part of you that comes after and starts questioning it. That's the only thing that's happening. So the shift is not to fix yourself, it's to start noticing which voice you are actually listening to. Because one of them is actually you, and the other one is just something you learned to repeat. And the more you can stay with that first version without immediately going back and adjusting it, the more you will start feeling like yourself. Not because you changed, but because you stopped leaving yourself.