If I Would Not Say It to My Younger Self
If I would not speak it to the child I once was, why would I speak it to the soul I am now?
Our words either plant gardens or scatter thorns.
Choose what you want to grow.
There is a quiet cruelty we have learned to live with, the way we speak to ourselves.
It does not shout. It whispers.
Sharp, precise, and timed for the moments we are most defenseless.
We tell ourselves we are unworthy because someone once walked away.
We call ourselves failures because a dream died before it could take its first breath.
We stamp labels on our hearts, too much, not enough, forgetting those words were never ours to begin with.
Most of the time, those voices are not even ours.
They belong to people who never knew how to love us well, but we have carried their echoes as though they were true.
But what if we stopped long enough to picture the child we once were?
The one with untarnished hope, who still believed the world was wide and welcoming.
Would we tell that child they were unworthy?
Would we look into those eyes and declare them a failure?
Would we bury them under shame and call it motivation?
Every word we speak to ourselves is either a seed or a scar.
I have started measuring mine with one question:
Would I say this to my younger self?
If the answer is no, then I have no business saying it to the soul I carry now.
The truth is, we are still that child.
Only taller.
Only older.
Only better at hiding.
Our hearts still flinch at the same wounds.
Our hopes still crave the same kindness.
We are still trying to grow in the soil planted years ago, some of it rich with love, some of it poisoned by lies.
When we speak harshly to ourselves, we are not “toughening up.”
We are fortifying the roots of shame.
When we choose gentleness, we are not “going soft.”
We are teaching the child within us what love sounds like.
So today, I am choosing to plant gardens with my words.
I am choosing to water what is good, give shade where the heat has been relentless, and pull up the weeds of old lies by their roots.
Because if I did not speak it to the child I once was, I will not speak it to the person I am now.
Truth be known, this is how we begin to heal the past, by tending to it in the present.
And to those who lead, hear this:
Leadership is not just casting vision outward.
It is stewarding the voice within.
The real war is not always fought in boardrooms, pulpits, or public arenas.
It is fought in the silent corridors of your mind.
If you surrender there, you will lead from wounds instead of wisdom.
So fight for the voice that speaks life over you.
Confront the critic who has camped too long in your head.
Lead yourself with the same courage, clarity, and compassion you offer others.
Because if you cannot silence the lies within, you will eventually believe them, and a leader who believes a lie will inevitably lead others into it.
Your inner voice is the foundation of your outer influence.
Guard it. Shape it.
And speak to yourself as you would to those entrusted to your care, with truth, dignity, and hope.
Because the voice you speak to yourself with will set the tone for every team you lead and every life you influence. If your inner language is laced with truth, dignity, and hope, your leadership will carry those same qualities into the spaces you touch. But if your voice is poisoned with doubt or shame, you risk passing that burden on to others. Lead from a place where your soul is well-led, and you will multiply that strength in everyone entrusted to your care.
Dr. Steve Hudgins, “Piece by Piece, We Heal, We Lead, We Grow”