From my inner voice to yours

We all have an inner voice, right? That was the first thing I thought when this topic came to me, and then, while researching, I discovered that some people apparently don't. This condition is called anendophasia, or the absence of inner speech. People who experience it process their thoughts through visuals, imagery, emotions, and abstract concepts. I found it difficult to imagine what that would be like. In one source, I came across an interview with someone who experiences this. They said that when they saw characters talking to themselves in films, something directors often use to show the audience what a character is thinking, they initially assumed it was just a cinematic device, something that only happened in movies. I found that genuinely fascinating.

But setting aside the mystery of its absence, I want to talk about the inner voice itself.

The development of inner speech usually unfolds like this: it begins through the internalisation of external dialogue, gradually transitioning from speaking out loud to silent thought. Psychologists believe that children initially talk to themselves as a way to regulate their behaviour and language. Then, around the ages of 8–11, this becomes fully internalised as an inner monologue, largely driven by the maturation of the brain's dorsal language stream. It functions as a tool for self-reflection, planning, and memory rehearsal. And it is deeply shaped by our environment. The tone of the adults around us, our upbringing, our language, our early interactions with caregivers, and the social expectations we grow up with all play a crucial role. In many ways, the inner voice is an echo of those early social dialogues.

What I find fascinating is that the inner voice changes. It evolves with us.

I have been thinking a lot about my own. Compared to my teenage self, my inner voice is much more at peace now. It knows me better. Writing in a diary every day has helped with that. I feel like I am genuinely best friends with my inner voice. Living alone may have contributed too; my inner voice even says good morning to me.

But I have also realised it could be even better. It does not judge me, but it also does not cheer me on as much as it could. I have been thinking that maybe I could allow myself to feel more excited and happier when I achieve something. Not constant pampering, of course. Self-criticism has its place, too, and finding that balance is important. Maturing helps, I think.

The inner voice is deeply multi-layered (like an onion), especially when you consider everything that shapes it: your family, your country, the places you have been, and the experiences you have lived through. It is as if everything somehow becomes part of us, part of our narrative. And what makes it even more remarkable is that we can shape it back. A more confident, compassionate, and encouraging inner voice can change the way we see ourselves, the choices we make, and the lives we build. To me, that is something worth striving for.