Reclaiming the Wheel: My Relationship with the Inner Critic

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There’s this little voice that shows up sometimes.

“You don’t deserve it.”
“You just got lucky.”
“You’re not as good as you think.”

I’ve heard it for years—especially when something goes well. Like that time I hit a big score in a poker tournament. It was a bounty event, and I pulled $3,200 in mystery bounties. That voice came crawling in, saying, “That was just luck. That doesn’t count.”

But what that voice doesn’t mention is the hand I busted on—where I got my chips in ahead and still lost. Or the other tournaments where I played well, ran deep, and just couldn’t dodge the variance at the final hurdle.

That voice forgets that I’m consistently improving. That I’m showing up, reviewing hands, managing emotion, making smarter choices. The results haven’t caught up yet—but they will. And I can feel that.

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The Role of the Voice

I’ve come to realize that voice isn’t trying to ruin me. It’s trying to protect me. In its own clumsy way, it’s been a survival mechanism—keeping me small, safe, quiet. It’s the voice of the critical parent, or the wounds of a much younger version of me, afraid of getting too confident and being knocked down.

And you know what? I get it. That part of me has done its job well for a long time. But I’m no longer living in the past it was created to protect me from.

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Letting It Speak—But Not Steer

I’m not trying to kill off that voice. It still has a role. It can offer a pause, a moment of skepticism before I leap too far. But it doesn’t get to steer the ship anymore.

Now, I choose which voice takes the wheel.

The one that sees my effort.
The one that recognizes my emotional growth.
The one that values steady improvement over sudden success.

I trust that as I keep walking this path—whether in poker, in life, or in the quiet moments alone—that voice will grow quieter. Not because it’s wrong, but because it’s no longer needed in the same way.

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In Case You’ve Got One Too

If you’ve got a voice like this—whispering doubt or downplaying your wins—just know this:

You don’t have to shut it up.
You just have to stop letting it drive.

Let it ride in the backseat. Smile at it in the rearview. But you’re the one at the wheel now.

That’s how it changes.

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Thanks for reading. If this resonates, feel free to share or reach out. You’re not alone in this.