That’s what she said. Not a stranger. Not a bully.
Jessica.
She lives in my head.
If you’ve never had an unexpected roast session from your own reflection, try this:
Stand in front of a mirror. Or take a selfie. Stare at it for just a beat longer than usual.
Then listen.
Who shows up?
For me, it’s Jessica.
She’s the voice in my head who thinks she’s helping by pointing out everything that might be “wrong.”
She’s sharp. Sarcastic. Sounds like she’s in her early 20s and just finished a Communications degree with a minor in Passive Aggression.
In IFS (Internal Family Systems), we’d call her a “part”, a protector.
But I call her Jessica. It just… fits.
For a long time, Jessica was exhausting. She commented on everything:
My body. My choices. My relationships. My awkwardness. My posture. My grocery cart.
She was relentless.
So I did what any adult might do with an annoying inner voice:
I ignored her.
You ever try to ignore a determined toddler?
Or a moody teenager?
Or a 22-year-old with a big iced coffee and an even bigger opinion?
Yeah. It doesn’t work.
Jessica got louder. Meaner. More persistent. Because beneath the sass and scorn… she was afraid.
Afraid of being ignored.
Afraid of me messing up.
Afraid of being hurt again.
See, Jessica was frozen in time—stuck at an age when criticism kept me safe. When being sharp and self-deprecating was a defense strategy, not just a personality quirk.
She thought she was helping.
She didn’t know I was 41 now. That I had survived. That I was doing okay.
So I stopped fighting her. I listened. And then… I talked back.
“Yes, Jessica. My hair is thinning. It’s part of getting older. It’s okay. We are okay.”
She still chimes in from time to time. But now it’s more of a collaboration than a clash.
Less “You’re disgusting,” more “Hey, maybe a deep conditioner wouldn’t hurt.”
In the words of Richard Schwartz, creator of IFS:
“There are no bad parts.”
Jessica isn’t bad.
She’s just a scared, clever, overworked trauma response that didn’t realize she could retire.
So now I invite her in. I show her my calm. I show her we’re safe.
And slowly, she’s learning how to speak to me like someone who cares.
