We All Need a Little Self-Criticism, Just Not a Bully

The fine line between being self-critical and self-hating

In The Dyer’s Hand and Other Essays, poet Wystan Hugh Auden offers an interesting perspective on self-criticism:

To keep his errors down to a minimum, the internal Censor to whom a poet submits his work in progress should be a Censorate. It should include, for instance, a sensitive only child, a practical housewife, a logician, a monk, an irreverent buffoon and even, perhaps, hated by all the others and returning their dislike, a brutal, foul-mouthed drill sergeant who considers all poetry rubbish.

Auden’s imagined “Censorate”—like a group of critics or judges—offers a brilliant metaphor for the varied and often contradictory voices within us. Each figure reflects the complexity of our self-criticism. Don’t we all have our own version of this inner council?

Self-criticism can protect or harm us. It can help us grow and stay accountable, but it can also distort how we see ourselves and lead to shame and self-loathing. Listening to a clear and thoughtful inner voice—free from self-righteousness, self-deception, or external influence—is one of life’s hardest challenges. Auden suggests even the harshest critic has a role, but I’m not entirely convinced. Let me explain.

Socrates had a point when he said, “I’m wise not because I know, but because I don’t know.” In a way, he’s describing a sceptical, critical voice that can keep us grounded and honest. We’re often biased, self-deceptive, and prone to overthinking—obsessing, forgetting, or procrastinating. A helpful inner voice can challenge these habits and guide us when we feel stuck.

But that’s rarely where self-criticism stops; it often spirals. We go beyond just correcting our mistakes and end up harshly criticising ourselves for our flaws, almost as if we enjoy putting ourselves down. When this voice gets too loud, it becomes our worst enemy.

That said, I’m also sceptical of the popular notion that we should silence self-criticism altogether. In popular narratives, self-criticism (or the “inner critic,” as it’s often called) is painted as an enemy to be vanquished: the source of our insecurities, the thief of creativity, the killer of joy. It’s blamed for everything from unhappiness to depression.

It’s true that chronic self-judgment can harm mental health. It’s linked to struggles like depression and anxiety, and many psychological models see it as a contributing factor to emotional distress. But the science behind self-criticism is complicated. As a recent review paper demonstrates, definitions and methods vary, and much of the research relies on self-reports, leaving many questions unanswered

To address these complexities, instead of simply labelling self-criticism good or bad, I prefer an approach often used in psychotherapy: for whom, under which circumstances, and in what amount? This shifts the focus from fighting self-criticism to understanding it in different contexts and considering individual differences.

In a paper discussing self-criticism in psychotherapy, researchers Kannan and Levitt describe self-criticism as “a conscious evaluation of oneself that can be a healthy and reflexive behavior, but also can have harmful effects and consequences for an individual.” I like this framing because it places self-criticism on a spectrum and allows us to explore how it can lead to growth as well as harm.

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When I was younger, I had a love-hate relationship with self-criticism. I couldn’t seem to function without it, but at the same time, I found myself letting it consume me.

“You’re so stupid! Why would you say something like that?” or “Why do you always mess things up?” Sometimes it was harsher: “What’s wrong with me? I’m useless,” or “No one will like you if you keep making these stupid decisions.” These are the sorts of constant criticisms I remember.

The tone would vary—sometimes mild, other times downright brutal—but it always felt like a voice lashing out, insisting I wasn’t good enough whenever I made a mistake or fell short. Self-criticism usually takes the form of this relentless inner voice pointing out flaws. But it can also act as a moral judge, much like Freud’s superego or Karen Horney’s “tyranny of should.” This inner judge, often harsh and operating without a jury, enforces rules and dictates what we believe we are allowed—or forbidden—to do. In many ways, it mirrors the voices of parents or authority figures from our past.

Now, I’m all for having an inner critic—we all need one. But not the kind that tears us down or offers no perspective. What we need is a balanced voice that holds us accountable, keeps us aligned with our values, and helps us grow. A healthy critic encourages reflection, guides better choices, and deepens self-understanding. Without it, how would we navigate life’s complexities or hold ourselves to meaningful standards? How would we truly know ourselves?

When self-criticism is constructive, it feels like thoughtful feedback—a voice that corrects, supports growth, and offers perspective. Even a tough critic can be helpful if we’re skilled at managing our emotions and know how we can switch to self-soothing when we need it (perhaps as Auden did).

The problem begins when self-criticism turns harsh, repetitive, or emotionally charged, and we start treating its messages as absolute truths. Worse, we might even act in ways that confirm its accusations. At its worst, self-criticism turns into a tyrant that berates us. When self-criticism turns into a broken record, repeating outdated judgments, it loses its value. Instead of offering clarity, it punishes us and insists we’re fundamentally flawed.

If that voice were a person, would you want them in your life? I lived with mine for years, and it was far from pleasant. At some point, it stops being a truth-teller and starts acting more like a propagandist, distorting your self-perception and making it nearly impossible to see yourself clearly or objectively, let alone kindly.

This kind of voice feels less like a helpful critic and more like a rigid taskmaster. It demands obedience without room for negotiation. It’s not a conversation; it’s a decree. Over time, it becomes a wall, cutting us off from deeper self-understanding and growth.

But we don’t need to turn this into yet another exhausting “healing journey” that pressures us to silence or “fix” our self-criticism completely. That’s an oversimplified way of looking at it. Excessive self-criticism—especially when it leads to self-hatred—can be deeply damaging. Left unchecked, it can become harder to manage over time. Addressing it early is important, but this doesn’t mean chasing a trendy idea of “healing.” It’s about reshaping that inner voice into one that’s constructive, balanced, and compassionate.

Therapy can be a powerful way to reshape our critic. For example, some forms of therapy, like psychodynamic therapy, focus on understanding where that harsh inner critic came from—often from childhood experiences—and gradually replacing it with a kinder, more understanding voice. Other approaches, like emotion-focused therapy, help people connect with the feelings behind the criticism, like shame or fear, and work toward healthier emotions, such as self-compassion or a sense of calm strength.

Harsh self-criticism often comes from fear of rejection or the need to be perfect to feel loved. But the harder we push ourselves, the harsher the inner critic becomes, creating a cycle that’s hard to break. Therapy disrupts this pattern by addressing feelings of unworthiness and the need for approval.

It’s worth noting that deeply ingrained self-criticism usually takes time to work through. While short-term strategies can help in the moment, long-lasting change often requires steady, ongoing effort in therapy.

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The idea of letting go of constant self-criticism may seem unsettling at first. It can leave us feeling confused or skeptical. But it’s worth considering that self-criticism doesn’t have to hold such a tight grip on us. In fact, perhaps we shouldn’t be overly impressed by it.

Self-criticism is a paradox: it promises improvement, yet often undermines our ability to grow. It can sharpen our awareness and keep us accountable, but when unchecked, it becomes a force that distorts, punishes, and paralyses.

This is where the magic of perspective comes in. To truly understand something important, we need to look at it from different angles and appreciate its complexity. Sticking to just one explanation—no matter how convincing—is a trap. The ability to see things from multiple perspectives helps counter the authority of the superego (the moral judge) and loosens its grip on how we perceive ourselves.

The challenge isn’t to silence this voice, but to reshape it—from a tyrant to a trusted adviser. There’s a difference between accountability and self-contempt. Accountability invites reflection and change; self-contempt keeps us stuck in cycles of shame and avoidance. A critic driven by respect, rather than contempt, offers us a steadier hand. It allows us to acknowledge mistakes without reducing ourselves to them, to learn without losing perspective, and to strive without succumbing to perfectionism. It aligns us with our morals and values, while avoiding the harsh tone of authority.

This isn’t superficial kindness or exaggerated self-enhancement, nor excusing mistakes or sugarcoating reality. It’s a shift from being our own worst enemy to being a better ally. And that might be one of the most empowering things we can do for ourselves.

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