I was in a team meeting a few years ago, listening to a junior colleague present an idea.
He was smart and capable, and I knew from one-on-one conversations that he had great, original insights.
But in this formal setting, something was different.
He used all the specific, slightly jargony corporate phrases our senior director used.
His tone, his cadence, was an almost perfect echo. He was delivering a solid presentation, but it felt... hollow.
A performance.
After the meeting, I met up with him, and he was a bit deflated.
I told him his points were good, and he just shrugged. "I don't know," he said, "I don't even feel like I was really there. I was just trying to sound like I belonged in the room."
We can find ourselves in situations that feel high-stakes, a job interview, a meeting with someone we admire, a conversation with a new group of friends, and we unconsciously slip into a different voice like a costume.
We borrow phrases, adopt opinions, and mimic tones because it feels SAFE.
It feels like what we're "supposed" to do to fit in, taken seriously, to be approved of.
The Comfort of Camouflage (And Its Hidden Cost)
This isn't a character flaw; it's a deeply human instinct.
We are social creatures, wired for connection and belonging.
Adopting the "voice of the tribe," whether that tribe is our family, workplace, or chosen social circle, is a form of camouflage.
It helps us blend in and minimizes our risk of being singled out or rejected for having a different or undeveloped point of view.
For years, I didn't even realize I was doing it.
I had a mentor I deeply admired; he was brilliant, incisive, and had a very specific, world-weary way of looking at things.
I started unconsciously mimicking his perspective in my own conversations. It worked, in a way.
People told me I sounded sharp and insightful.
But inside, it didn’t sit right. I was getting validation, but for the wrong reasons.
While this "borrowed voice" can feel like a protective shield, it comes with a significant hidden cost.
When we constantly speak in someone else's voice, we never develop our own.
We're so busy repeating what we think is the "right" thing to say that we forget to listen to what we think.
That inner voice, the one we own, gets quieter and harder to hear.
It’s the very definition of a "cognitive distortion." We start to believe the performed story so much that we lose touch with the authentic one.
How to Start Hearing Your Own Voice Again
So, how do we begin to distinguish our own voice from the echoes of others we’ve collected along the way?
It’s not about a sudden transformation.
For me, it has been a practice of tuning in and asking better questions. It's a process of self-awareness.
Here are a few things that I have found genuinely helpful, framed as invitations for you to consider:
The "Is This Mine?" Check-In:
Seems simple, but it works.
The next time you state a strong opinion or use a particular turn of phrase, especially one that feels very polished or authoritative, pause and ask yourself: "Where did that come from? Is that my boss talking? My parents?
That podcast I listened to this morning? Or is this thought MINE, is it my experience and reflection?"
There's no judgment in the answer. It’s just about noticing.
Writing as a Space for Truth:
Our brains are a noisy place, full of the voices of others.
A blank page, however, is quiet.
Journaling, or even just jotting down unfiltered thoughts, is one of the best ways to hear your voice without the pressure of an audience.
There's no one to impress, no one to agree with.
It's just you and the page.
In that safe space, your real thoughts and feelings will shine through.
The Power of a Purposeful Pause:
To find your voice, you need to quiet the input from others.
If you're constantly consuming podcasts, articles, and social media feeds, you’re saturating your mind with other people's thoughts.
Try taking small "input detoxes."
Give yourself a quiet walk, a commute without headphones, or just five minutes of silence before you start your day.
These pockets of quiet are where YOUR perspectives often have a chance to surface.
Your Real Voice Isn't Always Loud or Certain
Here’s what will happen: you’re looking for a version of your voice that is as polished, certain, and authoritative as the ones you borrow.
That's not what you’ll find.
Your real voice will be quieter.
More questioning and nuanced.
Sometimes it says, "I don't know." Oftentimes, it's still figuring things out. It isn’t always certain, but it is ALWAYS authentic.
Finding it isn't a one-time event. It’s a lifelong practice of tuning out the noise, noticing the echoes, and gently, consistently, choosing to listen to the quiet but persistent truth of what you think and feel.
What is your voice trying to tell you right now, if you give it a moment of quiet to speak?
With so much performance that goes on with social media and people performing for audiences where you can't tell what's real and what isn't, how much of their story is true and how much of it's fabricated? I'm really hoping there's going to be more desire for this kind of real writing.