Living with My Inner Critic
While I had been determined to keep my mantra, “Just get through the year” for 2022, life seems to have other plans – the primary being to get rid of many of my “unattractive qualities” as much as possible before I enter Season 31, Episode 1. Just to be clear, I’m not consciously going, “I’m 30, this is not cute anymore.” There’s just something in my brain these days that goes, “Stop doing that right now. This is not okay.”
I don’t know where this voice came from. I’m only familiar with the voice I grew up with – my inner critic. We all have one of those, right? A voice that true to its name, is critical of all that we do; moulded by the way we were parented, our childhood, societal expectations, and all the other confetti of life experiences we have.
“Ugly”, “lazy”, “useless” and their synonyms make up the vocabulary of my inner critic. Shame, guilt, and self-disgust are her favourite emotions to feel. Her hobby? To replay embarrassing moments from my past so I can cringe at myself in the middle of the night. She’s the extreme antithesis of my inner child and the child-like curiosity I’m determined to keep alive. My inner child lets me approach and explore tomorrow, next month, next year and the life beyond with love, faith, hope, excitement and optimism; she points out my blessings, she brings up my strength, and she reminds me of what I need to be grateful about. My inner critic, on the other hand, seems hellbent on pointing out my weaknesses, limitations, and telling me exactly why and how I’m going to fail. Honestly, she doesn’t have to be such a party pooper if you ask me.
Once upon a time, my response to my inner critic’s opinions was to simply give in. And then I went through a phase where I largely ignored her, telling her, “You can’t dictate how I should live my life!!” During this phase, I told myself my emotional reaction to something is not a fact. My personal assessment of something is not a fact. My temporary assumption of something before more information comes in is not a fact. For example, when my friend ends her text with an ellipsis, she’s not being passive-aggressive. When someone looks at me in public, there’s nothing wrong with the way I look or the way I’m dressed. If no one shares a comment about my blog post, it does not mean my writing sucks.
This dynamic worked for a while. Where my inner critic would say something, and I would tell her to piss off. And it got the job done, I was starting to get less self-conscious, less nervous about trying things, and was more likely than ever to just put myself out there and experience life.
But then, slowly, cracks started to form in our relationship. I realised when I hit a low, I hit it so hard because my inner critic came out in FULL form during such times. I started picking myself apart TOO much in response to the general lows of life. I was much harsher on myself for relatively small things. I felt like I had to punish myself at times - which is just… what is that?? I’m not my mum! (I’m not right??) Hitting a low became the cue for unleashing the demon my inner critic had become. She had been silenced and banished to the dark, yes, but she hadn’t resigned to her fate, you see. Instead, she had been pacing, stalking, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike with a “SEE. I TOLD YOU, YOU SUCK.” And boy does she cut viciously clean to the bone. Worse yet, the emotional mood swings when I’m on my period became my inner critic’s playground. So, every month, by no choice and almost of no control of my own, I started to experience a period (heh.) where I hated everything I had and everything I was. I do not wish this upon anyone.
Naturally, it became clear this is not a sustainable way of living. It’s not fun to hit the lowest of lows every month. And on the flip side, the smallest highs started to feel euphoric. I was starting to get tired of swinging like a pendulum between the two extremes and my emotions started to feel broken. I reassessed life and came to the conclusion that much like how too much of something can’t be good, too little of something can’t be good either. So, I started listening to my inner critic. I didn’t listen to her all the way like I had in my younger days, and I didn’t completely hush her like I did in recent times. Just a little bit, enough to make her feel seen.
Here and there, I started to realise, she’s not here to make things a 100% worst. Surprisingly, she was almost helpful at times. Turns out, much like how my inner child and I want the best for myself, my inner critic also wants the best for myself. Except, while my inner child motivates me, makes me feel limitless, and capable, my inner critic discourages me, limits me, and restricts me. Because while my inner child is the extreme version of pushing myself towards everything I want due to her naivete and lack of understanding of consequences, my inner critic is the extreme version of protecting me from completely normal fears like rejection and pain.
My inner critic just wants me to make sure I’ve thought things through fairly. That I’m not just looking at how I can succeed, but also how I can fail. That I’m not just looking at the gains, but I’m also looking at my possible losses. That I’m not just seeing possibilities, but also the pitfalls. My inner critic, at times, actually has a point. It’s just it can be so twisted or layered that it takes time to unpack it. Like when my inner critic tells me I’m going to stay single forever. Trying to ask her and trying to find evidence that rationally supports or refutes her claim sent me on a long journey that forced me to look within and examine exactly what makes me truly happy. Or when my inner critic tells me I’m not cute in a dress. I realise it’s just a part of me that’s anxious from the side glances and mocking I’ve received from people I considered loved ones over the years. My inner critic just doesn’t want me to be laughed at again and wants to pick a safer choice. I tell her my worth is not dependent on the opinion of others. I ask her if I want such people in my life anyway.
For some reason, it’s easy to acknowledge when my inner child is pushing me a little too much that I have to tell her to slow down. I can laugh and tell her the story of Icarus to calm her down a little. But I don’t know why I’m so tough on my inner critic and my instinct is to try to shut her up no matter what she says. My brain built her for a reason. She came to be as a result of all that I’ve lived through for a reason. She must have a purpose. At the moment, I think it’s to remind me that no one is above criticism, not even myself. And so, I’m learning to live with her. Things are … a lot better. Significantly. They’re not perfect, but then again, what is? And so, we continue to cohabit. My inner critic tells me no one is going to read this blog post. My inner child tells me maybe this will be the number one search result for posts on inner critics the way my post on turning 28 is for the search term “turning 28”. I force my inner critic to make nice with my inner child and hit “publish”.
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