taming the inner critic

My brain is searching for tigers, but I am just an artist standing in front of a canvas. There is no tiger, no threat to perceive, but my brain has convinced itself that it’s hunting me....Closing in.

When I first learned there are people out there (are you one of them?!) who have no internal monologue…I was fascinated. It felt insane to me. How could this be true? You mean, they don’t have a voice on a constant loop of fear and torture ruminating in their head?! How is it humanely possible to have a life that peaceful *and* why did I get the short end of the stick?

It wasn’t until my mid 20’s that my inner voice started to sound a lot like my biggest hater. As a kid, this inner monologue kept me happy. As isolated as I was for being emotional, weird and curious— my inner monologue was the friend that encouraged play, inventiveness, kept me busy, and eager to see the world. I’d like very much for that voice to come back and be the lead role in the sam’s head never shuts the fuck up play. That’s what we’re currently working on. Exchanging fear for curiosity. Trauma loops for healing.

What does your internal monologue sound like?

This voice does not belong to us, and we’ve heard it elsewhere in order to internalize it. I’ve always wondered why some of my internal monologue was so vicious, and so specific.

“no one will ever love you”

“you really think your work is that important?”

“my god you’re so emotional, stop crying”

“pathetic.”

When I look back on the most influential romantic relationships of my younger years, the abuse sounds a whole hell of a lot like my own inner critic. Some of the worst thoughts I’ve ever had about myself, now that I have the awareness of it, have been said to me by these abusive people. No one ever deserves that kind of power. No one.

It’s osmosis- our brains take in this information and truly think, it has been said enough times to me, by enough people. It must be true.

But I am not my mind, and my mind is also not those people.

This kind of chatter can sabotage relationships and derail your life. As a young adult, I used this critic almost to my benefit; competing with her to achieve my goals and things I never dreamed possible. I was more inspired by it than I ever actually listened to it. In my mid 20’s, that shifted dramatically in the midst of the breakup with my 7 year fiancé and meltdown of my life. That inner monologue became louder and darker than ever.

When the foundation crumbled and I had no choice but to leave, the narratives in my head were more terrifying than ever before. The fear this voice instilled in me kept me there, in this painful relationship for a year longer than I should have been. But what will you do? No one will ever love you again, you’re damaged goods. What will the world think? and your work?! you’ll never be able to support yourself and you’ll always be poor and terrified and begging for someone to love you. You will live to do nothing other than regret this. You’re always asking for too much.

Every single day, I fought with my inner critic through this decision making process, and long after. I would sit in the closet in the dark, trying to focus on my own breathing just to have some peace. To try and locate my inner knowing, to explain why this terror was so loud. Looking back, I realize it was his voice I was hearing and internalizing. I had adopted it as my own, and believed it to be true. Someone else’s insecurities became the foundation of my life, because I was not aware of the manipulation and how it had been seeping into my self-worth. Of course, other internalized narratives from my childhood also compounded with these new versions… and suddenly my biggest wounds of shame and unworthiness were eating up all of my energy, day in and day out.

Then, I found yoga.

I learned how to sit still and listen to my body, my mind. How it would scream at me, bounce around, become filled with rage, and name-calling, and intense discomfort when I attempted to observe it. After two full years of practicing, nearly seven days a week, I found my inner knowing. She was calm. Patient. Like clear water, steadying on the top of a lake. My life decisions became natural, my inner confidence grew, and work and joy and success began to flow in… as if it had been waiting all of my life.

It’s no coincidence that as I stand here now, so far away from that version of myself….that I haven’t practiced yoga in over a year and a half. My monkey mind is running the show, completely disconnected from my body. My inner critic has been the foundation of my life. But how?

A more scientifically-grounded explanation regarding the inner critic traces its origins to specific regions within our brains. Researchers propose that we possess a primitive "survivor brain," which includes the brain stem—an older part of our brain responsible for physical survival and the fight-or-flight response to threats. Aka, we had to run from lions and tigers or other immediate threats for sheer survival. This portion of our brain is highly sensitive to danger, constantly scanning for potential threats. It persistently evaluates and criticizes, often finding fault within ourselves. Additionally, this process involves the limbic system and the amygdala, which regulate our emotional reactions and can trigger the release of the stress hormone cortisol. This is very real, very scientific stuff. Our trauma compounds it all. Makes the tigers very real, and very life-threatening. And that is not your fault.

Originally, our inner critic served a beneficial, beautiful purpose: safeguarding our survival as cavemen and women. My brain is currently searching for tigers, but I am just an artist standing in front of a canvas, trying to paint a body with color. There is no tiger, no threat to perceive, but my brain has convinced itself that it’s hunting me… closing in just around the corner.

Being in this artist block, my inner critic has taken over my life. She runs the show, constantly telling me how much of a pathetic, unworthy failure I am. She takes my accomplishments and belittles them down to nothing, and makes the safe spaces in my relationships feel like a place of conflict, fear and insecurity. She has me utterly convinced that my life as an artist is a silly fantasy I would never deserve, and that no matter how hard I try to be a good girl, no one will ever love me enough to stay.

She has kept me out of the studio for a year.

I know that it is my job alone to end this block, to remember what it feels like to show up for myself with compassion and patience.

I keep thinking I have to rid this voice before I can be the person I dream of being. Overpower her, drown her, find a way to eliminate her in order to get back into flow. She perpetuates feelings of deep inner shame, an emotion so powerful it feels impossible to wade through.

During my first 15 days of being back in the studio, the voice grew louder… telling me all of the ways I was a shit painter, would never be relevant, could never make honest work worthy of an impact… that I was better off going home and packing it all in.

So instead of giving it all up, I gave my inner critic a name.

I’ve been told this by prior therapists, books such as The Artist Way, etc.— that distancing yourself from the voice by naming it— will teach you how to better observe the thoughts rather than embody them.

I always thought that sounded a bit silly. But here I am, grasping for anything that will keep me afloat or change my current mental state. And so I named it. For this article’s sake, let’s name her MARTHA.

It has made a difference, especially in the way I can observe and even speak back to it. By giving a name to your inner critic, you create distance from its negative influence, recognizing that you are not inherently flawed, but rather the critic is an external force with its own motivations. This distinction weakens the grip of your inner critic, enabling you to gradually assert control over it. Oh yes, this isn’t actually me speaking. I am not my thoughts. The original yoga.

I’m also working on utulizing another skill- that my mom would argue has always been one of my strong suits: talking back.

When your inner critic chimes in next, consider how you can respond. Normally, I don’t respond. Instead, all I’m doing is listening and embodying the fear it cultivates. Oh shit, you’re right… I am pathetic. Let me stop painting for the day and never show anyone this work.

Instead, I’m embodying my inner angsty teen and saying, HOLD UP MARTHA.

Talking back takes your power back. What reassuring words does this insecurity and fear need to ease its anxieties? For instance, during my studio day when it whispers, "Your color theory is absolute shit," reply with empathy, saying, "I appreciate your input, Martha. However, I'm feeling committed and inspired by my authentic flow right now. Thanks for your concern." Alternatively, when my body begins to panic during conflict resolution in my relationship, I might acknowledge my past trauma and say, "You make a valid point, Martha. This is insanely vulnerable and scary for you. I'll pause, take a deep breath, and trust the safety of my partner right now."

It might feel insane. But by doing this, I’m shifting the power dynamic and the relationship with my inner Martha. Rather than doing all of the listening, I become the one talking.

In so many of my most influential relationships, I have sat there, patiently listening. I have picked my cuticles down to the bone, drawn blood from my fingers and my lips, nervously listening with intention as to why they have done what they’ve done, why I am not measuring up, all that they expect and the ways I am surely forgiving.

I have been the listener for my entire life, stemming from the idea of needing to be pure, and good, and worthy. I have listened more than I have spoken in these rooms, filled with insecurity and manipulation and hurt….ones where my voice didn't even shake. Simply because there was no voice at all.

And so when the inner critic speaks up and wants to have its way with me, I am the natural listener. I am in my role, being a good, quiet girl.

I am 8 again. Crying alone in my room because I’m lonely and scared and I’m being punished for feeling so.

I am 15 again. Walking the hallways past the boy who wears the jersey and drapes his arm around his girlfriends neck, knowing no one would ever believe what had been done to be the weekend before; the rage and entitlement that live at ends of his fingertips.

I am 18 again. Watching my boyfriend text her over my shoulder, turning a blind eye to all of it, walking myself home.

I am 25 again. Begging for the truth, for someone to help me, for enough inner strength to get myself out of the situation at hand. For fear of consequence, fear of my own self.

But I get to do the talking now. My mind will not be the exception.

The roles are reversing, and I am taking my power back. Because you do not get to be the voice inside of my head, ruling my every thought or life decision. You never deserved that much power, much less a space in my life filled with compassion or love. You no longer get the privilege of stepping into the studio with me every day as I build my dream life. You do not have the privilege of budding into my friendships and building fear and competition to keep me isolated. And you will no longer, not ever again, step into my relationship as I heal my heart and build the home you could never give me, with someone who truly deserves my tenderness.

In this moment, I feel a shift. Maybe it won’t be as self-assured tomorrow, maybe it will take nurturing and patience to continue feeling it, or maybe it will happen overnight. I realize now, in this moment, that I am the most influential person in my life. Because I will never hear another person’s voice more than I will hear my own. That voice deserves to be one of compassion, of patience.

All of that compassion and patience and forgiveness is reserved for me now, for the girl who deserves to do the talking. For the woman who gets her voice back.

x

Those tigers are ghosts, attempting to keep you running and running for your entire life. It’s only when we stop and turn to face them head on, that they finally disappear.

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