Firstly, take comfort in the fact that you're not the only one suffering from such a problem.
From this page, I found out that the actor Anthony Hopkins suffered from this too. He purportedly said:
"I’ve always had a little voice in my head, particularly when I was
younger and less assured”, he said. “While onstage, during classical
theatre the voice would suddenly say, “Oh, you think you can do
Shakespeare, do you?” and he added; “Recently, I was being interviewed
on television and the voice inside my head said to me, “Who the hell
do you think you are. You’re just an actor, what the hell do you know
Apparently, hearing voices may or may not be related to mental health conditions, so it's good to get it checked with a medical professional.
Meghan Jisho Caughey, a sufferer of Schizophrenia (which may not be your condition) reported how Zen meditation helped her in this blog entry:
So this is what I have found during the hours on the cushion. First
of all, let me say, Zen practice, for me, is hardly ever relaxing. I
don’t do it because it feels good. Just in the last few years, due to
a better medication, it does occasionally feel somewhat peaceful. But
much of the time, it is simply uncomfortable to sit there, and stay on
I sit, and the internal voices often get louder. It‘s challenging.
I want to stop; I want to pay attention to the voices. They are
I try to count my breaths, if I can count to four, it is unusual.
I switch to listening to sounds meditation. External sounds---the bird
in the tree outside, a car, the wind in a tree, my dog’s snoring. This
actually works quite well fairly often when I am hearing voices
because it competes with the voice; it changes the focus if I can do
it for a little while.
Sometimes the voices or a body distortion will be really stubborn. I
am just stuck with it.
There I am, on the cushion, no escape.
So what I have learned to do is just to be there.
I learned this in sesshin.
Just to be there. Moment by moment. With all the Stuff. Whatever.
I found out that it wasn’t going to kill me. And then I found out that
I could choose my attitude toward the Stuff. Chose the feeling–tone.
So now, the practice goes something like this:
I’m sitting doing zazen and the scary perceptual stuff comes up, And I
recognize it, and I say to it, “Oh, so it’s you again!” And I lovingly
tell it,” Well, I’m putting the welcome mat out for you, just come
right on in!” And the scary stuff gets kind of smaller and not so
scary, and sort of shuffles off into a corner, not so bad, after all.
Still, there are times when I just have to sit and it is like I am
sitting in a snowstorm, or a war, except the energy is inside. So,
one might ask, why do I sit—if it is not peaceful—and there are not
more moments of bliss?
Sometimes I ask myself this question, and what I get in touch with is
that by sitting that I somehow connect with my True Nature. For me
this is especially meaningful, because for years I thought that my
True Nature was my disease, schizophrenia. But deep down, I could hear
something else: Buddha Nature.
When I was in my early forties—I am now fifty-one—I took the Precepts
and Refuge in the ceremony called Jukai. I was given two Dharma names
by my teacher. One name, Jisho, means compassion for all life. My
teacher made a point to say that I must have compassion for myself.
The other name is Ahimsa: nonharming. This meant to me that I could no
longer act out self destructively, regardless of what the voices told
me to do. I had to change my life.
I owe my life to this practice. My gratitude is beyond words. To sum
it up, I would say that my practice with schizophrenia is just moment
by moment, stay on the cushion with whatever comes up, and it is all
workable, if you just stick it out.