'Your soul is rooting for you louder than your ego is yelling—listen close.'

Welcome to The Soul Podcast. I'm Stacey Wheeler.

This episode is dedicated to anyone who's ever woken up with that familiar weight in their chest—the kind that whispers, or sometimes shouts, about last night's regrets. Maybe it was a conversation that went sideways, a choice you made in a moment of weakness, or just the quiet accumulation of small missteps that feel like they've piled up into something insurmountable. You wish for a rewind button, a do-over, anything to erase the replay that's looping in your mind. But here's where it gets real: that inner critic isn't just nagging; it's chaining you down, feeding on shame, and making it hard to move forward.

I've been there more times than I care to count. Mornings where I'd stare at the ceiling, replaying my own slip-ups, feeling like I was the only one who couldn't get it right. But over time, through my own journey of self-discovery, I've come to understand this isn't just a personal quirk—it's deeply rooted in our psychology. And blending that understanding with a soulful perspective can be the key to breaking free. Today, let's dive deeper into the psychology behind that relentless inner voice, why it yells so loud, and how tuning into your soul's quieter encouragement can transform shame into growth. Because the truth is, you're not broken—you're in the beautiful, messy process of becoming.

Let's start by unpacking the ego. In psychological terms, the ego is like the gatekeeper of our identity—it's the part of us that Freud described as mediating between our primal impulses and the demands of reality. But in a more modern, everyday sense, it's that protective mechanism that jumps in to defend us from perceived threats, including our own mistakes. When we regret something, the ego yells because it's trying to shield us from vulnerability. It amplifies the judgment: "You messed up again. You're not good enough." This is classic cognitive distortion—things like all-or-nothing thinking, where one error defines your whole self, or catastrophizing, where a small regret balloons into proof of your unworthiness.

Psychologist Carl Jung took it further, suggesting the ego is just the surface layer of our psyche, often at odds with the deeper self—or what he called the Self with a capital S, which aligns closely with what we might call the soul. The ego clings to control, to perfection, because it fears annihilation in imperfection. But the soul? It doesn't operate that way. It's the eternal, compassionate core that sees beyond the ego's noise, rooting for your wholeness no matter what.

Now, enter shame—that sticky emotion that keeps the ego's volume turned up. Researcher Brené Brown, who's done groundbreaking work on vulnerability, defines shame as the intensely painful feeling that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging. Psychologically, shame isn't just about what we did; it's about who we believe we are because of it. It triggers the fight-or-flight response in our nervous system, flooding us with cortisol, that stress hormone that makes everything feel urgent and overwhelming. No wonder it chains us down—our brains are wired to avoid pain, so we replay the regret as a way to "learn" from it, but often it just spirals into self-punishment.

But here's the empowering flip: psychology also shows us that shame isn't inevitable or permanent. It's malleable. Studies on self-compassion, pioneered by Kristin Neff, reveal that treating ourselves with kindness—like we would a dear friend—actually rewires the brain. Through neuroplasticity, our neural pathways can shift. When we practice self-love, we activate the parasympathetic nervous system, the "rest and digest" mode that calms the body and mind. Over time, this reduces the ego's grip, making space for the soul's gentle rooting.

Think about cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) principles here. CBT teaches us to challenge those automatic negative thoughts—the ego's yelling—and replace them with balanced, compassionate ones. It's not about ignoring mistakes; it's about reframing them. Instead of "I'm a failure," it becomes "I made a choice I regret, and that's human. I'm learning." This aligns perfectly with a soulful view: your soul knows every experience, even the regrettable ones, is a step toward growth. It's not judging; it's guiding.

Let me share a bit more from my own story to illustrate this. A few years back, during a particularly tough phase, I found myself in a cycle of regret over a failed relationship. I'd wake up replaying arguments, blaming myself harshly. The ego was in full swing: "You always sabotage good things." It felt like truth. But then I started incorporating psychological tools with soul work. I'd journal the ego's accusations, then counter them with evidence of my growth—small wins, kind acts, moments of resilience. Gradually, I noticed the soul's voice emerging: "You're doing your best. This is part of your path." It wasn't overnight, but the shame started to crack. Research backs this—studies show that self-compassion practices lower depression and anxiety levels, increasing life satisfaction. It's like giving your soul the microphone back.

So, how do we practically bridge this psychology with soulful living? It starts with awareness. Notice when the ego yells— that tightness in your chest, the racing thoughts. Then, interrupt it. Pause, wherever you are. Place a hand on your heart; this simple touch releases oxytocin, the "bonding hormone," which psychologically fosters self-soothing. Breathe deeply—in for four, hold for four, out for four. This activates the vagus nerve, calming the nervous system and quieting the ego's alarm.

Now, speak the words: "I love myself." Say it softly, repeatedly if needed. Psychologically, this is positive affirmation in action, countering negative self-talk and building new neural pathways. From a soul perspective, it's aligning with that deeper truth—that you're worthy, loved, and supported unconditionally. Watch as shame begins to dissolve; it's like sunlight melting fog. The ego quiets, and the soul's encouragement comes through: "Keep going. You're becoming."To make this even more tangible, let's expand on that exercise I mentioned earlier. We'll do it together, step by step, drawing from psychological techniques like mindfulness-based stress reduction (MBSR), which has been shown to reduce rumination—that endless replay of regrets.

First, find a quiet spot if you can, or just pause right where you are. Close your eyes gently. Bring to mind that regrettable moment from yesterday or whenever it last hit. Don't dive too deep—just acknowledge it. Feel where the shame lives in your body: the knot in your stomach, the heat in your cheeks, the weight on your shoulders.

Now, without judgment, label it: "This is shame. This is the ego protecting me." This step, from acceptance and commitment therapy (ACT), creates distance from the emotion, so it doesn't define you.

Next, place your hand on your heart. Breathe into that spot. Whisper: "I love you anyway." Repeat it three times, letting each repetition sink deeper. Feel the shift—psychologically, you're practicing emotional regulation, training your brain to respond with kindness instead of criticism.

Finally, open your eyes and notice: How does the regret feel now? Lighter? More manageable? Do this daily—maybe tie it to a routine, like after brushing your teeth. Over weeks, as neuroplasticity kicks in, shame loses its power. What emerges is resilience, self-trust, and that soulful knowing that you're rooted for, always.

Remember, this isn't about perfection; it's about progress. Psychology tells us change happens in small, consistent steps. Your soul echoes that, patient and unwavering. You're not here to be flawless—you're here to evolve, to become more of who you truly are. As we wrap up, carry this with you: the next time regret knocks, meet it with curiosity instead of chains. Ask: "What can I learn here?" Then listen—not to the yell, but to the root. Your soul's got the wisdom.

Thank you for joining me on this deeper dive today. If you're inspired, try that exercise and share what unfolds—maybe in the comments or on social. Your vulnerability could help someone else break free.

Until next time, be gentle with the becoming. Your soul is cheering louder than you know.