How Your Inner Critic Defines Your Legacy
By: Sondra Rose Marie
Tags: Legacy, Self Improvement, Inner Critic, Therapy, Growth

How Your Inner Critic Defines Your Legacy

Your influence on the future might be bigger than you think

Photo by Darius Bashar on Unsplash

I didn’t go on my first date until I was 24. I wanted to — I dreamt about cute dates and love letters, suffered through crushes, and lamented my loneliness — but there was this small voice in my head that would pop up daily and tell me, “No one will want to date you.” In the mirror, I’d look at my body and think, “No one wants that.” In class, I’d trip over a concept and thing, “You’re so stupid. No one wants to be with you.” Even while writing, that voice would break through, “You’re not that creative. You’re not even really interesting. Why would anyone want to be with you?” Logically, I knew that voice couldn’t always be right, but it wasn’t until now — in my 30s — that I’ve learned the importance of confronting it.

We all have this meanness within ourselves. It’s that voice inside that seems to exist for the sole reason of tearing you down. I’ve heard it called an “inner critic,” and “the voice inside your head.” Drag superstar RuPaul refers to it as the “inner saboteur.” Learning to silence it can be one of our biggest life accomplishments.

For years, I silenced my inner saboteur with distractions. In my mid-20s, I drank like Bukowski, sometimes to the point of getting sick at work the next day. I hung out with a wild crowd, which was constantly embroiled in unnecessary drama. I spent money on ridiculous things and struggled to pay rent. I knew I didn’t have my life together, but there were so many things I could blame that on. My lifestyle wasn’t healthy, but it kept my my inner critic relatively silent. Then, on my 27th birthday, I decided I was done taking shots. By 30, I’d almost completely stopped drinking. I started paying down my debt, eliminating one account at a time. Today, at 32, my friendship circle is small, but loyal. Without the distractions of partying and drama, that cruel little inner voice speaks louder.

Telling my therapist about all of the cruel things my inner saboteur says to me feels horrible. Even now, writing about them makes my stomach churn. But last week I had a really profound moment with these thoughts that I want to share that with others fighting a war with an inner critic.

I started therapy because I was struggling with my emotions. I struggle to feel them, identify them, and honor them. So after a therapy session focused on unearthing all of the negative things I say to and believe about myself, I completely disconnected from my feelings. In the place where sadness, anger, joy, surprise, and disgust usually reveal themselves, I was blank. I tried to dig in and find them, but I felt like I was knocking on a closet door and the person inside refused answer.

Thanks to therapy, I’ve learned how to unlock the door myself. The key is to move my body. In my 20s, I spent hours each week dancing my way to my feelings at an overpriced studio in LA. On my hardest days, I took classes back-to-back. At the time, I didn’t know that what I was doing was a form of self-care, all I knew was that moving my body helped me dig down into the muck of my feelings and clear them out.

Today, my therapist has me engage in a similar, albeit more mindful, exercise. When I’m locked out of my feelings, the first thing I do is clear an hour on my schedule. Then I write. I set a timer for 10–15 minutes and I don’t think — I just let my hand go. When the timer goes off, I cap my pen and I find a way to move: I jog my neighborhood. I do yoga. I go on a cleaning rampage, scrubbing surfaces until I’m drenched in sweat.

This is how I’ve come to see what’s going on in that deep part of myself that’s so unreachable, even to me. When untangling my feelings towards my inner saboteur I first felt embarrassment for ever talking to myself in such a negative way. Then I felt an overwhelming wave of sadness. I realized that I learned some of those thoughts from my mom. Her negative self speak — “I just don’t understand how to use computers,” “I can’t learn that stuff” —provided a blueprint for how I speak to myself.

But someone else’s self-speak made a blueprint for her. When I sit down and really think about it, I realize that there might be a long line of people, likely women, who came before me and, because of this generational blueprint, every single one of them missed out on understanding how beautifully smart and badass they are.

I know I'm not the only person who engages in negative self-talk. Way too many of us do. If you’re part of this heartbreaking club, maybe one of your parents did this. Maybe it was a beloved teacher. It could have been an older sister or the aunt you looked up to. Think of how wonderful this person is. Now realize how completely devastating it is to know that somewhere they learned that they weren’t everything amazing you know they are. Now think of the person who gave them that blueprint.

Part of me wants to hold the child that person used to be. I wish I could hug the young, boundless six-year-old versions of everyone who learns negative self-talk — my mom, your mom, even myself — and tell them they can grow to be whatever they want to be. They can master math, science, politics, business, art. They are beautiful no matter how they cut their hair or the size of their bodies. They can do anything.

As I think about the power of words — they can manifest joy, but they can also cause immense pain — I realize that I have to continue working on my issues because that six-year-old I used to be deserves to grow to her full potential. I deserve to reach my full potential. By doing so, I honor myself and every woman who came before me and didn’t realize she could reach her full potential too.

I refuse to pass this dangerous trait on to the next generation. The thought of my beautiful nieces and nephews listening to an inner saboteur breaks my heart. No one should doubt their ability to do anything simply because they’ve talked themselves into believing they’re less than. Breaking that chain starts with me and the way I talk to myself. I have to be kind. I have loving. I have to do better. Will you make an effort to do better too? By moving from cruelty to kindness, our words can literally change the future. 🖤