Do you dissect what you said after social gatherings?

Last week I went out to dinner with four of my dearest girlfriends.

Women I deeply admire.
Women whose sense of humor shakes my body and lights up my heart.
Women who are sensitive and smart — where conversation flows from soul-level truths to skincare hacks in one breath.

I love these women.

And yet, as I drove home, a quiet voice emerged from the shadows — dissecting the things I had said.

I know this voice. The voice of self-doubt scanning for possible embarrassment. This voice used to be really loud in my teens and 20s. But now and then, it still pops today, in my 40s.

It's as if, if you can pinpoint where you “messed up” first — if you call yourself out before anyone else does — you can brace for impact and protect yourself.

In over 12 years of coaching, I've seen this pattern again and again in my clients as well. They are in a social setting –often even enjoying themselves very much– and then later, once things quiet down, the self-doubt kicks in:

Was I talking too much?
Laughing too loud?
Did I sound complain-y? Need-y? 
Why did I say ______?
Was that dumb?

Here's what I know: 

Women don't suddenly develop this habit in their 30s or 40s out of nowhere. They learned this harsh overly-cautious self-scanning, the constant reviewing, the urge to avoid rejection much earlier.

Women who do this are often intimately familiar with having once felt deeply exposed, embarrassed, or judged as young girls. They were often the girls who felt responsible for other people's emotions at a young age. They are often the peace-keepers and sensitive souls of the family.

Here is what happened the morning after our girls dinner: I spoke to my closest friend from dinner on the phone and before I could confess what my inner critic had been whispering on my drive home, she brought up something she had been self-doubting from that night.

Ahhh… right. The reason my bond with this friend is so strong is because not only do we have incredibly rich conversations and a shared sense of humor, but we're also witnesses to each other in the holding — and healing — of our early wounds around visibility and worthiness.

And you know what happened next? We laughed about how silly it is that we –grown women– still do this. And in that laughter, we remembered our humanity. And by allowing the quiet inner voice of shame to have a voice in our shared space out loud —  it evaporated.

If you recognize yourself here, please know that you are not alone.

You having an inner voice that doubts yourself and makes you question how you came across is not proof that you are flawed. It's proof that a younger version of you once felt doubtful about being fully seen and still wants to protect you. 

Healing that part of you takes time, patience, love and repetition.

If you feel called, I invite you to sit down with your journal and gently explore:

• When did I first learn to scan myself for “mistakes” after being visible? What memory surfaces?

• What do I fear would happen if I stopped monitoring myself so closely?

• If I trusted that I am safe to be seen as I am — laughter, opinions, awkward moments and all — how would I show up differently?

Here is the truth:

Some situations are, in fact, embarrassing.

(I still cringe remembering a family lunch years ago when my then two-year-old calmly spat a piece of meat into his hand and hurled it across the restaurant with shocking velocity — landing straight on our waiter's cheek . That one? Fully justified embarrassment. It will likely live in my bones forever haha)

But most situations where we spiral into overthinking and self-doubt aren't nearly as catastrophic as we make them out to be.

And here's the thing: 

Embarrassment and shame thrive in secrecy.

The moment you shine light on them, their grip weakens. You begin rewriting the story of what happened and more importantly, you shift how you see yourself.

And then, however slowly, you surrender the overthinking, the scanning, the replaying of what you said and how it might have landed with others. And maybe —maybe — you even stop caring about what others think a little less altogether ;)

With love as always!

Caroline