I’ve always struggled with shaping my own inner voice into something less critical because I worry that it’ll reinforce the reassurance I often need to make sure any decisions I make are not catastrophic; in other words that it’ll convince me to be more passive and less willing to take control of my life since I’ll talk to myself kindly. I equate kindness with weakness and discipline with harshness. What is a way out of this dialectical dilemma?
I remember feeling the same when I was younger—believing that being harsh on myself was the key to achieving more and doing better. And while it did push me, the long-term cost to my mental and physical health was far too high. These days, I still push myself and do the hard things, but I approach my mistakes with a more neutral and compassionate perspective. It’s definitely a kinder way to grow.
I still work hard and achieve a lot, but now it's driven by a mix of compassion and challenge. The science supports this approach too—it’s about giving yourself room to try something different while staying motivated, not complacent. Over time, practicing this mindset makes it feel more natural. At least, that’s been my experience. Of course, I have to give credit to therapy for helping me get here—it made such a difference.
Wow, am I sure glad I found this blog. Right up my alley!
I find talk of self-criticism really interesting. In part, I think, because there is this ever-present analogy to a good friend. I think it's present at the end of this essay, too. The ideal form of self-criticism is the internal voice that is stern and fair but at the same time understanding and loving.
But it's also worth noting that self-criticism is essentially different than talk with a therapist or a friend. (For what its worth, I'm borrowing some ideas from certain philosophers here). After all: you can *disagree* with a friend or a therapist. You might not like their interpretation or advice. Maybe they think you made a mistake, but you are quite sure you acted well within your rights.
The same is not true for the criticial voice. There is not much space to imagine us *disagreeing* with our inner critic (apart from the pathological case -- the case where we are trying to work through hyper-critical internal voice).
If our critical voice were the understanding one you described, it is quite unlikely we would ever find ourselves disagreeing with it. Rather, it would be expressing what we truly believe about ourselves. It would be a sort of honesty. And if *this* is our internal critic, then it seems we can't disagree with it. But, if we can't disagree with it, then it isn't really much of a critic or a friend at all.
Thanks fro sharing your thoughts. I still think that we can disagree with our thoughts. I can hold space for them without agreeing with them. They are still critical but they can also do it in a non-brutal way.
Thanks for your response! I've been trying to get my head around this all morning. I wonder if you might be able to give an example just to give me some help?
Specifically, I'm having trouble understanding the sense in which thoughts could be ours and we still disagree with them. The thing that immediately comes to mind is how someone with OCD (by the way: I am not trained in psychology, so I apologize in advance for the inaccuracy that is sure to follow) often relates to their 'intrusive thoughts.' As thoughts that are entirely irrational and ones we would be better off without but nonetheless to be acted upon.
I don't think this is the model you're suggesting here, though. So I'm still left curious what it means for me to disagree with a thought but still hold space for it.
A thought might be saying that I'm not a competent parent, but I don't have to agree with it. I can say, ok thanks for letting me know, but I don't think I'm incompetent. I might not be perfect but I'm doing my best. I don't have to push that thought away. It can have a seat at the table but I don't have to agree with it or act on it if it's not useful.
How about something like this: “You are not a thief. You’re a person who has strengths and weaknesses, and you gave in to temptation and opportunity, and took something that didn’t belong to you. This isn’t who you are, it’s one thing that you did, and next time you’re tempted you can use your strength and do the thing that you know is right.” Thanks for sharing your experience and your thoughts, Good Doctor.
That’s a nice perspective. I might add attitudes to that as well. I get what you mean – we often find ourselves criticising our entire selves, which is a dark territory.
Selda this is an outstanding description of what it’s like to have an overbearing inner critic, and the value of honest internal feedback. Also, thanks for doing such sterling research!
Through the first half of my life, I lived with a “chorus of internal disapproval”, my Demons - The Judge, Wimp, Mr Hypervigilant and Pleaser. In my mid-twenties they brought me to the edge of suicide.
No thanks to them I survived, and over many years discovered they meant well but lacked purpose and insight into what I needed to thrive. Through unconditional love for them, and hence me, they first became my Allies, and finally my Champions.
Today, aged 68, we live in harmony, though not always in agreement. Consequently, I’m the happiest I’ever been and have found my life’s purpose.
I documented this journey in my recent memoir, “Demons to Champions - How I fell in love with my neurodivergent maverick mind.”
Soon I will be serialising this here on Substack (Audio and written versions).
I hope that you post kicks off a meaningful and positive conversation about our inner critics, the good and the bad. For example, how we help children understand them and how to use their advice.
Thank you for sharing your experience, Gary.I used to call my self-criticism Darth Vader—it seems we both like giving catchy names to our inner critics!
I appreciate that you mentioned children—it’s so important to teach them how to build a healthy relationship with their inner critics.
This is really helpful. I've done years of therapy and self-healing in order to not have that inner critic. Yesterday I dropped something and I noticed that I picked it up without any negative self-talk about being clumsy. That's huge progress when you grow up in a critical environment!
Thank you, Elizabeth. I’m glad you have a better relationship with your critic now! I agree that growing up in a critical environment is one of the main reasons we might develop a fairly harsh self-criticism.
I’ve always struggled with shaping my own inner voice into something less critical because I worry that it’ll reinforce the reassurance I often need to make sure any decisions I make are not catastrophic; in other words that it’ll convince me to be more passive and less willing to take control of my life since I’ll talk to myself kindly. I equate kindness with weakness and discipline with harshness. What is a way out of this dialectical dilemma?
I remember feeling the same when I was younger—believing that being harsh on myself was the key to achieving more and doing better. And while it did push me, the long-term cost to my mental and physical health was far too high. These days, I still push myself and do the hard things, but I approach my mistakes with a more neutral and compassionate perspective. It’s definitely a kinder way to grow.
I still work hard and achieve a lot, but now it's driven by a mix of compassion and challenge. The science supports this approach too—it’s about giving yourself room to try something different while staying motivated, not complacent. Over time, practicing this mindset makes it feel more natural. At least, that’s been my experience. Of course, I have to give credit to therapy for helping me get here—it made such a difference.
Wow, am I sure glad I found this blog. Right up my alley!
I find talk of self-criticism really interesting. In part, I think, because there is this ever-present analogy to a good friend. I think it's present at the end of this essay, too. The ideal form of self-criticism is the internal voice that is stern and fair but at the same time understanding and loving.
But it's also worth noting that self-criticism is essentially different than talk with a therapist or a friend. (For what its worth, I'm borrowing some ideas from certain philosophers here). After all: you can *disagree* with a friend or a therapist. You might not like their interpretation or advice. Maybe they think you made a mistake, but you are quite sure you acted well within your rights.
The same is not true for the criticial voice. There is not much space to imagine us *disagreeing* with our inner critic (apart from the pathological case -- the case where we are trying to work through hyper-critical internal voice).
If our critical voice were the understanding one you described, it is quite unlikely we would ever find ourselves disagreeing with it. Rather, it would be expressing what we truly believe about ourselves. It would be a sort of honesty. And if *this* is our internal critic, then it seems we can't disagree with it. But, if we can't disagree with it, then it isn't really much of a critic or a friend at all.
Thanks fro sharing your thoughts. I still think that we can disagree with our thoughts. I can hold space for them without agreeing with them. They are still critical but they can also do it in a non-brutal way.
Hi Selda,
Thanks for your response! I've been trying to get my head around this all morning. I wonder if you might be able to give an example just to give me some help?
Specifically, I'm having trouble understanding the sense in which thoughts could be ours and we still disagree with them. The thing that immediately comes to mind is how someone with OCD (by the way: I am not trained in psychology, so I apologize in advance for the inaccuracy that is sure to follow) often relates to their 'intrusive thoughts.' As thoughts that are entirely irrational and ones we would be better off without but nonetheless to be acted upon.
I don't think this is the model you're suggesting here, though. So I'm still left curious what it means for me to disagree with a thought but still hold space for it.
Thanks again!
A thought might be saying that I'm not a competent parent, but I don't have to agree with it. I can say, ok thanks for letting me know, but I don't think I'm incompetent. I might not be perfect but I'm doing my best. I don't have to push that thought away. It can have a seat at the table but I don't have to agree with it or act on it if it's not useful.
How about something like this: “You are not a thief. You’re a person who has strengths and weaknesses, and you gave in to temptation and opportunity, and took something that didn’t belong to you. This isn’t who you are, it’s one thing that you did, and next time you’re tempted you can use your strength and do the thing that you know is right.” Thanks for sharing your experience and your thoughts, Good Doctor.
Perhaps the secret is to learn to criticise our actions rather than ourselves.
That’s a nice perspective. I might add attitudes to that as well. I get what you mean – we often find ourselves criticising our entire selves, which is a dark territory.
I also re-stacked this.
Selda this is an outstanding description of what it’s like to have an overbearing inner critic, and the value of honest internal feedback. Also, thanks for doing such sterling research!
Through the first half of my life, I lived with a “chorus of internal disapproval”, my Demons - The Judge, Wimp, Mr Hypervigilant and Pleaser. In my mid-twenties they brought me to the edge of suicide.
No thanks to them I survived, and over many years discovered they meant well but lacked purpose and insight into what I needed to thrive. Through unconditional love for them, and hence me, they first became my Allies, and finally my Champions.
Today, aged 68, we live in harmony, though not always in agreement. Consequently, I’m the happiest I’ever been and have found my life’s purpose.
I documented this journey in my recent memoir, “Demons to Champions - How I fell in love with my neurodivergent maverick mind.”
Soon I will be serialising this here on Substack (Audio and written versions).
I hope that you post kicks off a meaningful and positive conversation about our inner critics, the good and the bad. For example, how we help children understand them and how to use their advice.
Thank you for sharing your experience, Gary.I used to call my self-criticism Darth Vader—it seems we both like giving catchy names to our inner critics!
I appreciate that you mentioned children—it’s so important to teach them how to build a healthy relationship with their inner critics.
This is really helpful. I've done years of therapy and self-healing in order to not have that inner critic. Yesterday I dropped something and I noticed that I picked it up without any negative self-talk about being clumsy. That's huge progress when you grow up in a critical environment!
Thank you, Elizabeth. I’m glad you have a better relationship with your critic now! I agree that growing up in a critical environment is one of the main reasons we might develop a fairly harsh self-criticism.