Why are we so self critical? I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently and have come to the conclusion that it’s honestly the most bizarre thing. At a logical level, I can understand, ‘hey, I’m not the most untalented waste of space on the face of the earth.’ But then why do I sometimes truly feel that way?
Maybe it's based on the cultural expectations we as a society create for ourselves? There’s the constant craving of success, the beauty standards we construct, and the inbuilt competitive systems that define every decision we make- to name a few. But then what’s even more bizarre is the double standards I create for myself. On multiple occasions, if I’ve had a friend going through something difficult, or facing some obstacle, I’ll wish the best for them. I will think to myself, “Wow, what a swell person, look at the way they are trying so hard, and being so strong despite the hardships they are going through”. I will think these things, and genuinely mean them with every fibre of my being. But the second I wear their shoes, or go through those same difficulties, I become so harsh on myself. “Pull it together, do better, you simply aren’t trying enough.”
Have you noticed that there exists an adaptive kind of reflection process we go through every single day. If you’re an IB student, I’m sure you are well familiar with it every time you have to reflect on an action or topic. This could literally be a Vision Board you tack up to your wall filled with glittery stickers and neon post-its. But it’s also the involuntary way in which you adapt and learn every day by understanding the consequences of an action, and then depending on the outcome, deciding whether to repeat those actions or not.
For example, let’s say you don’t study as hard as you should have for your Calculus test. And man is Calculus hard! The outcome of this is you don’t do so well on that test, which is clearly an undesirable outcome. The next time you sit down to study maths, your frustrating algorithm of a brain wants you to study more, so that you don’t repeat this outcome. But how does it ensure this happens? A blaring warning sharply cuts through every thought, reminding you how much you failed and will continue to fail. You want that voice to die. You want it to shrivel up and disappear, leaving your mind and thoughts alone and at peace. But there is another part of us that knows how much we need that critic. We become reliant on that voice to be more efficient, better decision makers.
Does your critic hate you? Imagine what it would be like to have a conversation with your critic. I lay out a lace tablecloth and make some scones with strawberry jam. I pull out a chair for that inner voice and hand it a cup of tea. I ask it, “Do you hate me?” It sits tall and coy, eyes wide. It does not loathe me. The truth is, initially your critic has good intentions. That’s a neat word, ‘intentions’. What are a self-critic’s intentions? So I ask it, “What are your intentions?” Self criticism takes a bite of its scone. “To protect you,” it replies, “to make you smarter and prettier and better.” This actually seems quite true. Each time I think badly of myself, it is always with the intent of changing some fault, or becoming objectively better. The Critic and I are not enemies then, it is just more of an unhelpful helper. Like a toddler throwing a tantrum, knowing deep in its heart that it is right, but not having the means of self expression to justify its actions. Behind that violent child with snot-fuls of balled up fists and tears are fears and values important to us.
“You are not my enemy.” I speak sharply. The Critic narrows its eyes peculiarly. “I now understand you don’t wish for my demise, but having you so loud and prominent in my mind all the time is exhausting. Maybe we just need some distance from each other.” Self criticism nods thoughtfully. One way to tame your self criticism is stepping away. By understanding that it doesn’t hold that much power over you, it becomes easier to ignore during day to day activities. Like a phone call from a nagging relative, who can continue their useless prattle in the background while you tune them out. But ignoring isn’t enough, we must also train ourselves to substitute criticism with coaching.
That’s when the doorbell rings. Self criticism looks uncomfortable as I get up to pull out a chair for our new guest and answer the door. Self compassion takes its place at the table. As cheesy as it sounds there are many ways in which we can begin training ourselves to introspect in a kind and non-judgemental way. Most of the time that voice that starts to chip away at our esteem is a panicked, exaggerated character, spitting out volatile and uncontrollable irrational ideas and insults. But if you really take a second to logically evaluate these thoughts, they all end up seeming pretty ludicrous. The Critic looks distraught now, voice rising in alarm, “You can’t motivate yourself without me, you cannot change without me, you NEED me!” Alas, for too long have we motivated ourselves with negativity, ultimatums, and shame. Does your Critic drive you to change because you love yourself, or because you’re running away from something, be it external judgement, fear of failure, or to avoid letting people down? Self Criticism is desperate now, screeching about in a flap, trying one last time to hurt me. “You are incapable of being loved without me.”
Ouch. Is that really what I think? Because it honestly sounds completely and entirely absurd. And staring this belief in the face starts to make me feel very silly, because nobody is undeserving of love because they make mistakes. Shifting an entire mindset won’t be instantaneous, because transforming self-criticism will take time. And being truly happy and completely loving myself does not mean I am free of expectations and burdens, but simply that I have learned to carry those problems in a more constructive way. These stark realisations are empowering and comforting in an unexplainable way.
I take one last glance backward. The Critic looks a bit pathetic now, small and whiny like an annoying child. Clearly, this get-together is over, and I stand up to leave. All in all, less drama than an average dinner with my relatives so that's a win? And at least the pastries were tasty.
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